Diane Jackman Lee reads her poem out at the end of the poetry-art workshop at Dragon Hall. Completed work on board.
My talk at St Luke’s on our relationship with Creation went well after a slow start: the group of 8-10 were eventually persuaded to be responsive, and actually got very enthusiastic about my paraphrase of the Lord’s Prayer from the Aramaic, which made a good ending. Came away feeling quite pleased after not knowing quite what to expect.
Other things that turned out well: Roger came round to deliver a birthday present for Dot, and I had a brief chat with him about the dodgy radiators. As a result tried a couple of things that didn’t work but then had a determined go at bleeding them (I had tried before without success). After quite a bit of spillage one worked; the other didn’t. Not to be thwarted, I then had a go at removing and refixing the valve cover that adjusts the heat and managed to get it back on properly. Result: two working radiators, and I’ve now cancelled the engineer’s visit.
And I was relieved to find only two people on the Paston walk this morning – a couple of western Australians who knew nothing at all about the Pastons and not much about Norwich. So it was easy for me, and even St Peter Hungate opened for our visit as promised. Not sure about the Paston Week as a whole: attendance has been sparse and the organisation a little inaccurate at times. I expected far more to be on Rob’s walk, which started two hours after mine today, but he only had one person!
Yesterday before helping the re-enactors to set up at Dragon Hall I managed about 90 minutes in the city, paying in cheques, booking theatre tickets and dropping in a poetry book for Keiron in the hope of getting a little publicity. I also managed to buy a birthday card and something else for Dot. After the Dragon Hall set up I met Dot at the supermarket to stock up for the Evetts’ visit next week.
This afternoon I arrived home to find Phyllis Seaman visiting with a birthday card. Afterwards (and after Norwich lost 1-2 to Arsenal) Dot and I had a game of table tennis and then cleared the garage so that we could get Dot’s car in next week. So a few toys made the return journey to the loft.
Roger, Dot and Barbara on the Caledon Trail near Pattison
The children left after lunch yesterday, and a strange quiet settled on Palmer Circle. The weather was slightly cooler, and so in the evening we went for a walk along part of the Caledon Trail, starting at Palgrave. We did about four miles, mainly at a brisk rate, and Dot and I narrowly avoided seeing a (harmless) garter snake that crossed the trail as we approached. Of course, we have only the Murrays’ word for it that there was a snake, but they’re usually quite reliable.
On the way back to the house we passed the rail crossing on Mount Hope Road, but failed to intercept a train. I had earlier written a poem called Looking for Heaven, in which a Canadian train appeared, along with Nebraska and various other features familiar to certain Ontarians. After supper we watched Easy Virtue, a film of the Noel Coward play that turned out to be unsatisfying despite a promising cast list. Twenty Characters in Search of a Plot would have been a better title. No pace, poor direction and, to tell the truth, not a very good play.
This morning we slept in and had a late breakfast. Continued heat is forecast, and tonight we head into Toronto for a meal. I’ve read three of the Ishiguro stories: he really is an excellent writer.
Dot retreating from the rocks at Sea Palling as the tide comes in
Spring broke through at the weekend, and on Sea Palling beach on Saturday afternoon it was not only sunny but warm. We had driven there via the delightful Thurne staithe (a spur-of-the-moment decision) and then Hempstead, past the house where Dot’s mum was born. A narrow road snaked down under the dunes towards Sea Palling: we stopped at the side of the road and took the narrow track over the dunes (taking note of numerous warnings). At the top we were greeted by a truly idyllic scene. The tide was far out, and the coast-protection rocks provided a lovely backdrop to the huge flat beach, populated by only a few walkers. The sky was totally blue.
We walked out to one of the islands of rocks, and Dot climbed up while I kept an eye on the tide, which was on the turn. In the few brief minutes while she climbed to the top it had almost surrounded the rocks, and she had to tread a precarious path to dry sand. We then walked round to one of the other islands and stood watching the speed of the advancing tide. I took a series of pictures over only about five minutes, during which a large patch of sand became an island and then quickly vanished.
Afterwards we returned to Thurne as the sun was getting low in the sky and walked out again from the staithe to the restored windmill, which was casting its huge shadow on to the meadow.
Yesterday was not so delightful, but while Dot visited Ethel I walked over three miles from Hethersett across some fields to Great Melton church, and back by the road. The field section was particularly pleasant, as it was dry underfoot and easy walking.
The previous week was not so strenuous, and not such fine weather. When I walked up to the dentist on Thursday there was a lot of dampness in the air, and it was pretty cold too. Given that I was also told I needed a crown (projected cost over £1000), I was not a particularly happy bunny. Dot was on a NafPHT day out at Mildenhall, for which I had had to rise early and deposit her at Thickthorn to get the last seat on the minibus. I managed to reorganise my Paston stuff, and in the evening we had a DCC meeting for which Howard provided Guinness, as it was St Patrick’s Day. Unfortunately, I don’t like Guinness. The DCC meeting wasn’t too bad.
Earlier in the week we had the bookcase men round to recut the shelves on one side, because they protruded a fraction. Took them quite a long time, but they did a good job. The previous day (I record this for the sake of completion) I played a dull chess game and drew.
Friday was almost entirely taken up by the visit of Joy and Phil, who came round for coffee at 11 and ended up staying for lunch and afternoon tea. Much discussion about their situation: Joy very upbeat.
Julia, Dot and Dave on a bridge over the Macclesfield Canal, coming towards the end of our walk. We are headed for the ridge top right.
The best kind of wintry day: cold, but with sunshine and a certain stillness in the air. The weekend was much the same, and our longish walk at Lyme Park on Saturday was superb. We covered just under five miles, with a fair bit of ascent, and happily Dot and I were relatively untroubled by our recent ailments. I felt pretty well throughout. She had a slight ache in her back, but had no problem completing the walk, which left the car park at Lyme Park (which is in Cheshire and was used by the BBC in the filming of Pride and Prejudice) before heading over a low ridge and down to the Macclesfield Canal. We walked along the canal for about a mile and half and spent some time watching geese skating on the ice and eventually plunging through it. Then we headed back up over the hill to our start point.
We were actually staying in Derbyshire – at the Lee Wood Hotel in Buxton – with Dave and Julia Evetts. Unfortunately the excellent food there negated the slimming work achieved by the walk, and at the end of the weekend I found my weight had worsened rather than improved. So this morning I did another couple of miles. I am really too heavy now and am determined to take off about half a stone. Dot is quite keen to assist me in this.
Didn’t feel 100 per cent in Derbyshire and had to go to bed earlyish both nights, but we still had a very good time. However an ambulance was called for someone else and I think it must have hit our car, because there is a dent in the back wing. Rather irritating.
On the way north on Friday we called in at Coventry with Andrew’s new TV/DVD combi, which I managed to set up in his room after walking to the shops with Andrew to purchase an aerial lead. Bitterly cold, and at that point quite windy. The set-up was very easy, and Andrew seemed to get the hang of it. The Langleys staff, who seem to be taking a closer interest in Andrew than the previous owners did, have said they’ll make sure he can operate it. They also took him into the city so that he could buy some clothes last week.
Before Coventry we had called in on A Ethel to give her her birthday present and stayed for a while. She seems very frail, but looked better than she had a couple of weeks ago. Rosemary is out of hospital and recovering from pancreatitis.
Clear drive back from Derbyshire via Chesterfield and the M1 on Sunday. Stopped at Cambridge Services for a snack, and both felt very tired. Nevertheless I took Rupert to Lowestoft in the evening for another poetry reading event at the Seagull Theatre, while Dot relaxed at home in readiness for an early school visit today. The reading went quite well, though it was a mixed bag as usual. Host Ian Fosten in good form, except when he omitted me from part two by mistake, and I had to point it out to get my second three poems in. Quite a good reception: did a couple of light-hearted ones (Directions and At the Chemist’s) which provoked some laughter. Also did Careless Rain, Mother of a Year Six Boy, Denver Sluice and In Love with the Second Cello.
Dave, Julia and Dot look back towards the sea during our walk near Brancaster
Very warm and quite busy few days, especially for Dot, who has completed a church school inspection at East Rudham, looked round a vicar’s garden at West Raynham and actually completed the report in time for us to leave for Blakeney early on Friday afternoon. This was for our annual reunion session with the Evetts and with Alan and Rosemary – the remaining six of an initial 13 of us, back at the turn of the century. It turned out to be probably the best weather so far, if measured in terms of heat. Shortly after our arrival we went for a walk along the river, but soon headed back to the Blakeney Hotel for our traditional tea and scones in the upstairs lounge, with a nice view across the estuary. We were in fact staying at the Manor Hotel as usual, which is about half as expensive and much more than half as good. Our room had been refurbished, and the food was of a pretty high standard as always. I had a lamb shank on the first night (Murray, eat your heart out) and a sirloin steak on the second.
On the Saturday Dave, Julia, Dot and I drove to Brancaster Ship Hotel, which has been beautifully refurbished. We had tea and coffee there before heading out on our walk, which I took from Ralph (Will) Martin’s Pub Strolls book. He suggested it was 3½ miles, but this is a typical RM underestimate: we measured 4½, and we missed out a short section at the beginning. True, we did walk round an additional field, but it certainly wasn’t a mile in circumference. We were trying to find Branodunum, the Roman settlement, at the time, but it appears to be invisible (if that’s not an oxymoron). On the plus side, it was an excellent walk, though we were pretty warm by the time we got back to the Ship for our Light Bite lunch, which was exotic and delicious. I had a fried duck egg with some shrimps and mustard. We called in at Big Blue Sky on the way back and discovered they had sold four of the ten poetry books of mine they bought a couple of years ago. Yippee!
On the Sunday we went to Cookie’s for lunch, but not before Dot and I had taken another stroll by the river and called in on Godfrey Sayers, a rather good landscape artist who has a regular caravan display slot on the carnser. He used to be fan of my EDP column (no accounting for taste) and we had been corresponding by e-mail recently. Dot introduced me to him, and we had a pleasant chat. At Cookie’s I nearly took Julia’s leg off when I drove off while she was still getting out of the car, but she not only survived but stopped the door hitting anything too. What a hero! Yes, very clumsy on my part: I thought I’d heard three doors slam, but clearly I hadn’t.
We drove the Evetts back to their car at the Manor Hotel, and this time let them get out completely before driving off back to Norwich, in plenty of time for the World Cup match between a team purporting to represent England and what my late mother-in-law would have called “some foreign team”. Yes, it was England v Germany again, and I have rarely seen England play so badly. Whatever you say about the manager or the system, you have to question why the players can’t keep the ball, can’t ever beat an opposition player, can’t tackle and can’t shoot. In the end I was hoping Germany would win 6-1. They only managed four, and admittedly England were laughably deprived of a goal because the referee and linesman didn’t notice the ball was about a metre over the line (that is not hyperbole). But then again in the next match Mexico laughably conceded a goal against Argentina which was so obviously offside that you wondered if the officials were at the same game. That’s sport for you. The good thing about the English result was that the fans could not even be outraged, we were so bad.
Gondoliers wait with offers for unsuspecting passers-by: view from our Venice hotel window
We are well and truly back from Italy. Arrived on Saturday night to a brisk gale that made the low temperature seem even lower, and plenty of rain too. Yes, it was an English midsummer. The journey had not been the smoothest. We left our rented villa at Lamole, in Chianti, about 9.45am (8.45 UK time), and arrived back in Norwich shortly before 9.30pm, so the whole journey took more than 12 hours. We have done Toronto-Norwich more quickly.
After a smart piece of navigation we managed to enter Florence on the right side (or left, going up), and although we went slightly astray, we ended up pretty soon at the car rental place. It was raining, and the usual suspects were all selling umbrellas instead of handbags. We dragged our luggage to the station, where we dithered about what to do. It soon transpired there was nothing worth doing because the station was overcrowded and underprovided, and so we thought we might as well get to the airport while Roger and Barbara waited for the Rome train. We got a taxi to the airport, where we arrived around noon. This in itself was a bit of a relief, as the usual Italian penchant for sloppy naming and signposting meant that I had thought there were two airports when there was only one. If you’re going to Florence, don’t be confused. Florence Airport, Amerigo Vespucci, Peretola or indeed Aeroporto di Firenze are all the same thing. Only one of them is a translation of another. No prizes. This did not increase my love of Florence, which was pretty low anyway following a 90-minute wait for our rental car when we arrived the previous Saturday.
At the airport we faced a two-hour wait before we could even check in. The Italians had apparently thought this could never happen, because there were practically no facilities until you had checked in – not even seats. We did eventually locate one row of seats upstairs and grabbed two, plus a bite to eat at the very small cafe. Just after 2pm I thought I would see if we could check in and found that we could. I also found that our flight had been delayed for nearly three hours because the aircraft would not get there until then. This is an example of what has been described as Italian time. It bears almost no relation to any other time. We attempted to check in anyway, but were told that we had to go the ticket office because we would miss our connection. This meant another queue, but with an unexpected bonus at the end. The excellent ticket office guy found a way to get us to Amsterdam in time.
We had to board a flight to Paris almost immediately (sitting separately), then at Charles de Gaulle airport find a new terminal for the flight to Amsterdam. All airports contrive to make transfers ridiculously difficult with poor signposting and the pointless requirement to go through security again, but we eventually made it to the boarding gate, and Dot was delighted because our names were called. We had to show them our paperwork from Florence. At this point Dot began to get very impressed. This time we did sit together – the plane was not full – but further concern materialised because the flight left nearly half an hour late. Somehow it caught up, and we were only about ten minutes late when we arrived at an almost deserted Schiphol. Again difficult to find where to go, but we asked a customs official and eventually found the KLM desk, who were extremely helpful, and we reached the boarding gate with enough time for Dot to buy a coffee, but not to drink it. This time the plane was more than half empty, and we again had a row of three seats to ourselves. Sheer joy. What could go wrong now? Nothing. Phil, alerted by my phone call, picked us up and transported us home, and we were so tired, we didn’t unpack at all. I trotted down to Budgens to get bread and milk, passing through the nightclub girls shivering in their all-season miniskirts, and after a fried egg or two I went to bed. So did Dot, but without the eggs.
The usual suspects inside the Ca d'Oro, beside the Grand Canal in Venice
Having failed completely to narrate clearly and chronologically, I guess I should return to the beginning, but in rather less detail. We left home by taxi at 8.20am on the 10th and had no trouble reaching Amsterdam via Norwich Airport, putting our watches an hour forward in the process. Found a delightful Cafe Chocolat at Schiphol and indulged a little, then took off for Venice at 3pm. Barb had recklessly booked a restaurant for 7pm, so we were under pressure after landing at 5pm. If I’d known how far the airport was from our hotel, I would have been even more worried. Our bags took a while; when they arrived we braved the heat to walk to the Alligula boats about 500-600 yards away. Fortunately we made the right choice, taking the more expensive (£25 each) fast gold boat which gave us time to reach our hotel – following a pretty tricky piece of map-reading – by about 6.30pm. This gave us just about time to get to the restaurant (after a rendezvous with the Murrays), and the meal was excellent – probably the second-best of the entire trip, but very expensive, as are most things in Venice. Afterwards we took a circuitous route home via the waterfront.
The next day was epic. According to my pedometer, which is pretty accurate, we walked over ten miles, covering some key sites in Venice, including the Ca d’Oro, the Rialto Bridge, the Accademia Bridge and St Mark’s Square, as well as numerous lesser known alleys and open spaces. Venice was not really as I expected: a real warren of streets and narrow canals. At one point we got separated. I was a few steps ahead, looked round, and the other three had vanished. I waited and nothing happened. I went back to where I had last seen them (only a few steps): nothing. I waited again, then was forced to assume they had taken an alternative route. Fortunately I had a map and knew where we were going: the Accademia Bridge. So I went there and waited – for over half an hour. Eventually, as I was trying to get through on the mobile, they turned up. Apparently they had paused to look in a shop window, then bizarrely crossed the Rialto bridge instead of of going straight past it to where I was waiting. Then they waited on the wrong side of the river. Once Roger twigged they were on the wrong side of the river, Dot persuaded them to head for the Accademia Bridge, because she knew what I’d do. With the help of a Venetian lady who spoke no English, they eventually made it.
I got to know the Accademia Bridge quite well, and after lunch nearby we booked for a concert in the evening, in a church right by the bridge. We then went back to our hotel, which was a delightful building with very pleasant staff. It was called the Liassidi Palace Hotel, and it would have been perfect, except that the air conditioning in our room wasn’t working, and then one of the strip lights started flickering and making a noise, even when it was turned off. The staff did their best to sort this, but it wasn’t ideal, though we slept better the second night.
But we are not up to the second night yet. After a rest in the hotel we went on another walk organised by Barbara, ending with an elaborate ice cream each. Then back to the hotel for a Bellini, followed by a return to the church (San Vitale) near the Accademia Bridge for the concert, by the all-male Interpreti Veneziani, a brilliant string group (about ten of them) who majored on Vivaldi but did a superb version of Bartok’s Danze Rumene. Really compelling stuff. And still the day wasn’t over: our way back went through St Mark’s Square, which was flooded! We could have taken our shoes off, but Dot had a bad blister which had burst, and I didn’t want to risk it, so we looked for another way, which was surprisingly difficult to find. It was literally like a maze, with many dead ends, but we eventually got to an area we knew and reached the hotel safely just after 11pm.
Norwich City players tour the city centre by bus to celebrate the championship
Weather is still chilly, but the forecast is warmer air moving in over the weekend. About time. Still, it’s not bad walking weather – when it doesn’t rain. Yesterday I did about 4 miles, starting through the Rosary, down Ketts Hill and up to St James’ Hill, then walking across the other side of Mousehold to Sprowston Road, then a bit further round the “inner link” before getting a bus to Tombland and walking home. Hard going at first, but easier the further I went.
Later on Dot and I did some additional walking when we went up to Castle Meadow to witness the open-top bus tour by Norwich City players, champions of League One. Got a reasonably good view and some excellent pictures, considering the crowds. Sun was shining brightly: atmosphere enthusiastic in that slightly self-deprecating way that is typical of Norfolk people. Of course there are also the wild enthusiasts, to whom football is a religion. Lot of slightly bemused little children in scarves, wearing face paint and waving flags. Also salesmen selling expensive cheap memorabilia. Helicopter and motorbikes, ambulance and bus: how could it not be fascinating?
Managed to finish editing the book yesterday and have sent off a few queries to the author before letting her have the final version. A strange book, skating over what appear to be serious events and going into great detail about trivia. the subject of the book herself is undoubtedly interesting, though to tell the truth a bit irritating at times. But you have to admire her perseverance and positive attitude to all kinds of problems.
On Wednesday evening we went to the Theatre Royal to hear John McLaughlin and band (the 4th Dimension) as part of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival. The technique of the musicians was stunning: some of McLaughlin’s guitar-playing was almost unbelievable, and keyboardist Gary Husband was also exceptional, as were the bass guitar player, Etienne M’Bappe, and drummer Mark Mondesir. Hard to pin down the type of music – sort of progressive and jazzy – but it is the kind that becomes very samey after a while. You are amazed at the virtuosity of the musicians but yearn for a tune or, more particularly, a singer. For the connoisseurs, certainly, and there were times, especially in the first hour, when I was spellbound. But… We actually left early, not because we we were bored but because Dot had a very early start for a school inspection the next day. The audience was also a bit odd: there was a lot of coming and going to the loo, starting as early as about a quarter of an hour in, and the woman sitting in front of me was exceptionally irritating because she would not sit still. She sat back, then forward, then put something on, then leaned over on to her partner, then went through the whole cycle again. And none of it in time to the music. All in all, a rather unreal evening.
Over a week since I last posted, which can mean only one of two things: nothing much has happened, or I’ve been extremely busy. Reader, it is the former, although it did seem there was plenty happening at the time. In the last few days I have been getting some exercise in a bid to lose weight before Dot’s food-counting regime goes over the top. Have lost a couple of pounds following walks, mainly in the Mousehold area, and a bit of gardening and clambering around in the loft (where, incidentally, there was no sign of water incursion). Today I walked radically back from Joe’s after a couple of hours’ chess. Brisk wind, but sunny. Dot has been at Barbara’s working on her P4C and should be back shortly. Colin is due to come and survey a couple of garden jobs at around 6pm, and then Dot embarks on a Girls’ Night Out at the Greens, which sadly clashed with our Tuesday Group, and the Tuesday Group lost. A certain member of it suggested that the male members of it should have a Men’s Night Out, but as I can’t imagine anything worse than going out with a crowd of men, I was less than enthusiastic and will be having a Tim’s Night In.
Most of the time I have been catching up with financial matters and e-mails, as well as compiling the rota for St Augustine’s, which is a bit tricky as certain people who shall be nameless forget when they’re going to be away, and then remember just too late. I am in the process of selling some shares to fund our extravagant lifestyle, and I have persuaded KLM to send us our e-tickets, which should have arrived about a month ago. I shall soon have to sort Andrew’s money out.
Our former scanner is no more. It is nailed to the loft. It is a dead scanner. Happily, friend Vicky M had given us a scanner she no longer needs, and I am working out how to make it function properly. It is decidedly promising.I decided to follow some advice I saw online and not load the scanner software but use Image Capture on Snow Leopard. Result! Now I am looking out for someone with a VHS player they don’t need. Ours has bitten the dust following an ejection problem. I know how it feels.
Highlight, possibly, of the past week was the visit of Ralph and Lynne Martin, back for a month from the Seychelles and in the process of selling their house in Hingham. I warned them about the space-time distortion, but they went ahead anyway. Dot and I met Bruce at the station and we walked to the Adam and Eve, mainly along the riverside path. There we met the aforesaid Martins, together with a late-arriving Robin L, and had lunch together. The landlady of the Adam and Eve is Rita, who used to be at the EDP social club, and she amazingly remembered me. An altogether pleasant hour or two, and not a bad pie.
Leaving aside our haircuts, other exciting events included Dot’s having her MX5 folding roof cleaned (after we had navigated through a massive hold-up on Aylsham Road caused by a man sitting in a van surrounded by cones and traffic lights), which gave her a lot of satisfaction. And of course the DCC meeting on Thursday, at which we achieved a full house. Because Matt wants to come on the DCC, I am standing down and will be co-opted on. This will give me an excuse to miss a few meetings by saying I can’t vote, so I might as well not come. This is different to the forthcoming General Election, at which I can vote, but might as well not come.
Avoided losing at chess last night by getting a winning position and agreeing a draw. Well, you never know what’s going to happen, do you?
I’ve just realised it’s October 29 and not October 30, which means I have an extra day. Don’t know how that happened. Today has been one of those glorious autumn days that you want to last for ever – warm, but not too warm, absolutely still, blue sky, lovely autumn colours in the trees, everyone smiling. Dot had to get up early and go to the doctor’s, so when she returned we decided to go for a morning walk. I decided on Shotesham, because it had been recommended by Joy, a poet who I correspond with. We parked by the ruined church (St Martin’s) and had a quick look, staying safely clear of possible falling masonry (warning signs abound), then walked over to Shotesham St Mary Church and had a look inside. Amazing how all churches smell the same. This church is away from the main village but next to Shotesham Hall, which has a moat but is private. We walked along some footpaths along high ground – for Norfolk– saw a heron in flight and some geese around a pond, then emerged on to the Stoke Road. Walked back by quiet roads – a total of about 2-3 miles. Many pheasants around (we took a detour through part of a wood). After picking up the car we drove down to Shotesham Ford and took a few more pictures. Tried to catch a falling leaf, but failed.
Back at the house I finished a story I’ve been writing for Oliver for Christmas. Now have to get it printed in an acceptable form, though I guess he won’t need so many pictures now that he can read really well. Actually have two stories for him – discovered an earlier one not long ago, called Little and the Piece of Cake. Dot is feeling much better during the day, but coughs a lot at night. Needless to say, the doctor didn’t give her anything for it. She and Barbara are going to London on Monday to present their ideas to what sounds like quite a high-powered educational group. They are being fed, and their expenses are being paid. Only problem is that it’s at the end of a day when Dot and Sue will have been deliveriig Philosophy for Children to a school in south Norfolk. She will be feeling a mite tired at the end of it all, so I hope she recovers quickly from her current ailment.
Grandson Oliver watching Norwich v Watford at Carrow Road and looking worried – justifiably, as it turned out, because although Norwich won that one 2-0, they are now in a desperate situation.
Lovely summer weather continues. On Tuesday Lisa came round (with Blossom) to talk about the poetry walks. Since then a message from Lucy seems to indicate that she expects two walks each day, and not one – and that we’re expected to be there the whole day as well. I don’t think either of those things will be possible. Meanwhile I’ve arranged to go out with Lisa to Paston on the 29th to reconnoitre the planned walk(s).
Yesterday Phil drove me to Coventry for a meeting with Dr Saad about the severity and nature of Andrew’s illness. We were able to persuade him that there had been no sudden deterioration, but it was a long-term problem, with the same continuing symptoms. Afterwards we took Andrew out for a drive – first to Corley Rocks (after going completely the wrong way when we asked him to direct us: his “that way if you want to; I don’t mind” wasn’t tremendously helpful), then to Memorial Park and a quick look round where we used to live – Beanfield Avenue and The Chesils. We ended up at TGI Friday’s for a full meal just before 5pm and then dropped him back at The Langleys just after 6pm – checking that his new stereo turntable was working OK. Brief chat with Halina, then an easy drive home across the Fens. I say easy, but Phil must have driven about 350 miles during the day. Arrived home before 9pm, feeling pretty tired. Dot had had a good P4C afternoon at Horsford School and had had a clean-out in my study.
I should mention that the plumber came and fixed the bath drainage pipe. All household fittings and equipment are now working properly, but Dot is at the dentist. I am due there tomorrow. I had a blood test first thing this morning, which has become such a familiar thing to me that I can almost look at the needle going in. But not quite.
