The starting line, with one person hanging back...
Autumn is on its way: chillier times forecast for the rest of this week. But we’ve been fortunate over the last few days, when we’ve had a lot of sun and warmish weather. The Paston poetry book is on its way to being completed. I have got just about everything to David, and I’m pretty excited about the way it’s looking. It’s involved quite a lot of work, but it should be worth it. After delivering early versions on CD to Rob and Lucy, I took one to UEA to give to Caroline on Thursday, had a chat with her about it, and in the evening we were able to duscuss her reactions (and everyone else’s) at the Paston trustees’ meeting.
That set me up nicely for a visit to Coventry on the Friday, with Phil driving. Really easy journey over there in glorious weather, and the meeting went well, all of us agreeing on maintaining the status quo. Andrew again seemed very well; we took him to buy some jeans at Matalan afterwards, and then for a very good meal at Fridays, followed by a trip down Memory Lane – the lane in this case involving Beanfield Avenue, The Chesils and certain parts of north Coventry which I did not know before or during our visit there. Yes, we got lost – but not seriously, and Andrew was actually able to guide us back towards the end. He was in good form.
During the trip we just avoided a nasty accident when a car pulled out in front of us: Phil managed to avoid both the car and a crowd of women on the nearside pavement, which was quite an achievement. Later, as we were about to enter the M6, another car shot round from our left and in front of us. The slower the speed limits, the crazier the drivers. Happily, Joy was praying for us. The journey home was not bad, though we had to detour around Elveden as usual.
On Saturday Dot and I went fieldwalking in Paston as part of the latest project. I suspected this might not be my cup of tea, and it wasn’t – but I’m glad we gave it a go. It was another lovely day, and it would have been nice to spend longer than the ten minutes or so that we devoted to actually finding artefacts. Richard Hoggett, who was in charge, was if anything too thorough in his preparation and said the same things several times. But a lot of it was interesting. On the whole, though, I am not all that enthused by bits of things from a long time ago: there always seems to me to be too many possible explanations for things being what and where they are, and the ones settled on are too random. (Dot managed to listen to the Norwich City game while fieldwalking: we beat Swansea 3-1.)
Sunday was a quieter day after another child-friendly communion service, though we did manage to lock ourselves out of the hall after Elizabeth bolted the kitchen door and the Yale-operated main door slammed shut. Had to fetch the Yale key from the vicarage , but no real problem.
It’s a soggy October midweek, and I’m just back from Paston, having delivered a CD containing the Paston poetry book file to Lucy, and dropping another off at Rob Knee’s house in North Walsham. A third will go to Caroline at the UEA tomorrow. Meanwhile David is having a look at it to see what he can do to improve it. I’ve already mistaken a spread eagle for a griffin, so that was a good catch (Lucy). Bit nervous about how it’s all going to come together, especially as Lucy doesn’t seem to be able to find the ISBN numbers she has lying around somewhere.
Spent most of Monday and part of yesterday putting the book together, which proved a bit easier than I had anticipated. Had time to clear up some leaves yesterday afternoon, and in the evening we nearly went to the cinema, but H predictably turned up for our Tuesday Group, not having picked up the cancellation message: she was going to come to the cinema with us, but she walked so slowly that we put her on a bus instead and went home to watch three episodes of Battlestar Galactica. I know it doesn’t make an awful lot of sense, but it did at the time. Rather like the query to a wire payment via Lloyds to America for one of our church speakers: it took them eight days to realise there was a problem (which I think we’ve just sorted). Taking eight days to spot a problem doesn’t make much sense either.
Sunday was our big day: it marked my out-of-church debut as a singer in a band, all miked up and with spotlights and everything. The band was Dot (violin), Phil (guitar) and myself (vocals and guitar), and we performed three of my songs – Man in the mask; As soon as it stops raining; and The band played on – at the Seagull Theatre in Lowestoft as part of their regular “New Words, Fresh Voices” event. I had taken part in this as a poet, but thought I’d give the singing a go after Ian Fosten, the owner and compere, pleaded for more music. Predictably, there was only one poet on Sunday: the rest was music. I didn’t feel we were outshone: the first two songs went really well, and Dot and Phil were really pleased to have done it. As was I, of course. Our band doesn’t have name, but Phil suggested Normal for Norfolk! He is keen to do more, which has to be good.
I’m now feeling better after getting really tired at the end of last week, when an awful lot seemed to be going on – a lot of it on the computer (poetry book) and preparing songs for Sunday, as well as writing a new song which we didn’t use! On Thursday there was a meeting at Dragon Hall about the November Paston event, as a result of which I now have a fairly clear idea about what’s happening when. Except the children’s art/poetry workshop, but I have connected Annette with Sarah to discuss this between them. I’m not usually that good at delegation, so something of a result.
In the afternoon Hilary and I went to Bridges – which is now on Magdalen Road, and not Charing Cross, as I thought – to pick up a bag of Adrian’s poetry books which were going to be thrown out. I’ve had a look at a few but been rather disappointed so far.
Friday was also busy. Dot and I had lunch with the Kibbles at Prezzos, which was very pleasant, but it overlapped slightly with the visit of Rob Knee to make some decisions about the Paston book. Worked out all right, though, and Rob and I were pretty much of one mind, which was good.
Have arranged to see David and the grandchildren over half-term; so that’s pretty exciting. Now to decide what to get Amy for her birthday.
Andy Martin, of Astral Void, by the Bure at Oxnead Hall
October dawned very warm and sunny, but is now showing signs of slipping into autumn: a cooler feel to the weather, leaves on the ground, a strongish wind, and snow forecast for Scotland. Still quite pleasant, though, and it was very warm for Dot’s Dutch trip, which went well on the whole: it was quite a major event, and their workshops were full. The journey also passed almost without incident, if you overlook their not being able to find the car at Stansted when they got back – a purely temporary aberration.
I have been working hard on a couple of books: finishing off the Norfolk poems book – Words in a Landscape – with David, and getting the material together for Another Country – our next Paston publication. This comes to a head on Friday, when I meet with Rob Knee to decide what it will look like. The artists have suddenly come up with material, so the decisions may be harder than predicted.
Readers will I am sure be delighted and astonished in equal measure to hear that the rogue Humax has been working perfectly for several days. And Dropbox has finished its mammoth uploading of my picture files. Quite a relief.
Went to a concert at St Andrew’s Hall on Saturday. Vicki Ellis was on piccolo in the first two pieces and sat out the third with us. Apparently Dvorak has little use for piccolos. Nice to see her and her parents. Nick and Jan Miller were also there. Aunt E has been proving difficult over the last few days, calling out all and sundry, sometimes several at once. Dot has been out there today and was there yesterday too. E was not strong enough to make the planned visit to North Walsham with Dot yesterday, so I went instead, and had a rather nice meal with Dot’s mother’s cousin Sheila, her daughter Teresa, Teresa’s daughter Anna, and Anna’s son Harry (aged 18 months and very keen on tomatoes). That’s four generations in one room. Teresa (our bridesmaid 43 years ago) made a rather lovely raspberry-flavoured, crispy pastry dessert with almonds to round it all off, the only downside being that I then had to make a meal for the Tuesday Group while Dot went to the Nafpht annual meeting at the Ram, Tivetshall. Didn’t really feel hungry. Don’t know why.
On the way home from North Walsham we stopped to look at the church and hall at Oxnead (Paston connection), and encountered a young musician who was looking for the river so that he could get some songwriting inspiration. We walked down to the Bure with him and had a chat about the Pastons and other things. Turned out he was Andy Martin, guitarist and singer for Norwich-based band Astral Void, who I tracked down on the internet afterwards. Interesting.
On Sunday afternoon I decided to go over to Horsford to catch the end of the Norfolk Chess Championships. Glad I did: always get a warm welcome from chess people, and there were a couple of interesting games and anecdotes. In the end Mike Gough won by boring Mervyn Hughes into making a mistake, thus depriving Charlie Fry of his first overall victory. Watched a fascinating win by Dave Hall over Ron Hughes and was pleased to say I saw the winning moves in advance. Always easier when you’re watching.
The other award-winning den at Bewilderwood, with its makers
Very, very tired. Possibly something to do with the glass of Sauvignon Blanc I’ve just enjoyed; possibly the heat (have just returned from the Rosary, where I removed dead flowers from parents’ grave and caught guilty-looking couple exiting with lilac from a cemetery tree); possibly the fact that Dot has had a cold/cough and I haven’t been sleeping too well; possibly the amount of stuff I’ve been doing over the last few days.
Today I’ve been trying to put together a booklet of my Lent poems. Downloaded some software that seemed promising, but it would only work if you had a printer that printed on both sides (I think), so I have now resorted to juggling the original pages, which will take a bit longer. Why do I get lured into trying something new? The perennial question.
Yes, it is much, much warmer. Summer is with us. I just hope it doesn’t take a good look round, decide it’s had enough and go away just as we head north for our Scottish holiday. No sign of movement yet. Dot was not at all well on Monday, which meant we didn’t go to Alison’s funeral; and to round the day off, Yosif failed to show up for our chess game yet again. Rumour has it that he’s in Bulgaria, east of Hemsby.
I’ve done quite a bit of work for Howard this week but not received any acknowledgement for the last, most complicated piece, which was an EDP-style article on a plan they have to improve orthopaedic pathways. It sounded more exciting in the article, I have to say, which may be why I haven’t heard back.
On Tuesday I spent much of the morning walking around Norwich with Rob Knee, researching the Paston sites. We then met up again in the evening for the Norwich Writers’ Circle prizegiving at the Assembly House. I won the smallest prize for a minimalist poem, which left me unreasonably less than satisfied, as I had nothing else in the anthology. However, I was the only Norwich prizewinner, and the first prizewinner came from Northern Ireland, so I suppose I should be happy. Walked part way home with Rob, his wife Penny and son George. Hilary was also there after a couple of days of being whisked to hospital with suspected heart attacks (probably angina). She wants me to do a workshop on journalism for her handicapped group, but I have nothing against them, so why should I? I suppose I might. Meanwhile the Cracknells’ son Finnan has been in hospital with a muscle infection, which sounds nasty, but he seems to be making a good recovery.
On my way into the city to buy a ball for Oliver, I ran into Joy, who used to clean for us. Mind you, I didn’t work that out until I’d nearly got home. Her daughter Tiffany also “did” for us at one point, but I can’t remember their surname. Vicky M introduced them to us, but she can’t remember either. Frustrating, especially as I said I’d send her a poetry book.
Far back in the mists of time, last Friday,Dot got a spare ticket to go to watch Norwich beat Nottingham Forest 2-1 – an exciting match, but not as exciting as tonight’s derby at Ipswich, which we really need to win, but probably won’t. On the Saturday the Greens came round for a meal, and we had a predictably convivial time, though Anna had to leave early because her shingles was playing up. Howard went with her, which is only right.
By the way, Dot has had her P4C visit to Holland in September confirmed – exciting. She’s spent most of the day in the city with Anne, which must mean she’s feeling better. She has new shoes too.
A notice near an exhibition of children's work at Colney Wood. Perhaps it's just me, but it seems to have an element of 1984 about it. Is it possible to be enthusiastic and not be happy?
Very cold recently, though thankfully dry. Opened the month with a Tuesday Group at which I felt strangely lethargic, though I had been feeling quite inspired earlier. Was revived the following day when I took a walk in a burial ground. Dot dropped me off at the junction of the Watton road and the southern bypass, and I walked over to Colney Wood, which is used for burials rather in the manner of the Rosary, but in a more random way and without headstones. I suppose it’s taking the Rosary idea a stage further, and it works really well. Beautiful hilly setting, and natural-looking memorials. I had hoped to be able to walk through and then across the water meadows to Bowthorpe, but unfortunately the burial ground is fenced in pretty thoroughly. So I returned to the entrance and was about to walk down the road towards the university when I got a phone call from Dot, whose meeting at Diocesan House had been cancelled. I invited her to join me in a further walk round the wood. I think she was equally impressed.
In the evening, while Dot was at a governors’ meeting at Brooke, I went to a poetry event at King’s Centre, which consisted of a talk by Lex Loizides from South Africa, interspersed with readings by actor John Carson from some of my favourite poets, including T S Eliot, Dylan Thomas, W B Yeats and Robert Frost. Surprisingly, it included a complete reading of The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock, which may be my favourite poem. There was also some excellent food, and happily I ran into Mark Ulanowski, who invited me to sit at his table (we took him to Greenbelt a couple of years ago). I didn’t know anyone else there. The idea of poetry as prophecy appeals to me greatly.
Yesterday a visit to the dentist for a filling demonstrated yet again that the advances in dentistry are a strong argument for living in the 21st century. Despite it being a fairly long procedure, I think I can safely say that there was no pain at any point. Of course it could just be that my dentist is highly skilled. On an unrelated topic, we are now on one of Dot’s diet regimes, which I am joining in on a fairly but not completely committed basis in an attempt to shed a few pounds.
Charlotte and Chris with her parents plus bridesmaids Louise and Sophie, and Sophie's husband Richard
After the internet connection worked fine all weekend, with everything relocated to the kitchen table, I moved the computer back into the study this morning, and it immediately stopped working again. I am now in a secure unit – no, wait, I’m back in the kitchen again, and it’s working again. You may think this is a location problem, but I don’t think it is. I managed to reset the wireless channel, and I am more confident now that it will continue to work. No thanks to BT, though, who made me do the pointless resetting in the first place. As a safety precaution I am staying in the kitchen for a while.
The accountant duly came on Friday morning, and immediately after he left we went for lunch with the Higbees at Newton Flotman. Stopped to buy flowers on the way, which was clearly the wrong thing to do because it triggered a huge downpour, which continued all the way to Newton Flotman and into the afternoon. Very nice lunch and subsequent conversation, although I was feeling well below par, as I have been all weekend. I suspect some kind of food poisoning dating back into midweek, but I don’t know where it came from. Occasional diarrhoea, aches and pains in peculiar places, slight headache and so on. All the things you like to read about. But it didn’t prevent us fulfilling our multiplicity of engagements over a very, very wet weekend.
The most prominent of these engagements was Charlotte Robinson’s wedding to Chris Wickham on Saturday. It was the least wet of three wet days, in that there were occasional dry periods, which enabled the photographer to function outside for a while. Quite chilly, though. The wedding service was at Yelverton Church – very familiar ground, yards from our home for 12 years in Church Road. Nice to be back: we met the mother of the bride with the bridesmaids at the gate, all looking stunning. Uplifting service, and a pleasant reception afterwards at King’s Church in Norwich, where the food and everything was provided to an extremely professional level by church members. Lovely meal, and I was able to hear all the speeches before I had to make a rapid exit as one aspect of my below-parness asserted itself. Pity, I would have liked to chat with people, but they you are. What can you do? I’d recovered enough to meet Dot as she walked home about an hour later.
Felt pretty rough and had a less than perfect night, but was well enough to go to church on Sunday morning, which on this occasion was followed by a meal at Vicky and Jared’s. I was a bit worried about this for obvious reasons, but in fact my condition gradually improved and I was able to enjoy more splendid food, including a quince crumble, which you don’t come across every day of the week. Plus some really good conversation with our hosts and with Howard and Anna, David and Bridget and Helen and Rob, who brought delightful little Florence (2). Amy (3) showed prowess at jigsaws and elsewhere and took a motherly interest in Florence.
Got home (after transporting Howard and Anna) just after 5pm and surprisingly felt well enough to drive to Lowestoft with Dot to read some poetry as part of a New Words, Fresh Voices evening hosted by Ian Fosten, an old friend who used to be a governor at Tuckswood School when Dot was deputy there, and later lived on Lindisfarne as the URC minister. He is now remarried and owns the Seagull Theatre. Lovely setting in a very basic way and an unusual evening, opened by a three-strong band of youngsters who could go far. Called Hilltop Mile: remember, you read it here first. Chatted to one of them – a very likeable lad. The rest of the performers were much older: the poets were mainly women of a certain age, plus me and another man of similar age. The cast was completed by an acoustic guitarist who was good in a very straightforward sort of way. To be honest, some of the poetry wasn’t very good, but it all had redeeming features. I read two poems in the first half and three in the second. They seemed to go down well, but everybody was being nice to each other. The audience was about 20-25, many of them quite young.
We got home about 10.40pm, and it was still raining. Today is different only in that the rain is closer to a drizzle. The sky is still grey, and the lights are on. Margaret Malt has just called for one of her pictures, which I brought from Oxburgh Hall for her, and I am expecting Alan Higbee later, to pick up my old computer. I think I’ll have some lunch.
Sudden late decision to go to Cathedral at 10am to hear the Archbishop of Canterbury and Ruth Padel dialoguing on the subject of poetry and prayer. Turned out to be fascinating, and as we were buying tickets we ran into Katherine Venn, who is doing poetry at the UEA, so we sat together. Some really interesting stuff lasting till 12.30 and including a brief service, featuring poetry, at the end. Also ran into Bill Smith, the EDP photographer, with additional glimpses of Rowan Mantell (EDP writer), the Rev Richard Woodhams, and the Kiddles from St Luke’s. Tea / coffee halfway through in the cloisters, and afterwards Katherine came back to ours for lunch (dropped in at Budgens on the way). Had a long chat with her about various things, including her UEA project. Weather cooler than of late, but not as bad as had been predicted.
A very rare coach-and-horses Christmas card: recorded for posterity and especially for Bruce Robinson, who takes a special interest in such matters.
At the last the snow has gone, to be replaced by a really dismal day, with heavy cloud and heavy rain. It may not be as cold, but it feels colder, and inside St Augustine’s Church this morning it was icy indeed for Rosemary’s funeral, despite the warmth generated by a packed church. She had asked for bright-coloured clothes to be worn, so I wore my blue-white jacket, and I was not snug. But as I was representing the church by giving a eulogy for Rosemary, I thought I had better resist putting my windproof jacket on. It went quite well, I think, because no-one came up to me afterwards to remind me of things I had omitted. The music group had a shot at I am a new creation, and that was OK too, but Howard wielded the organ for the other hymns, chosen by Rosemary. Afterwards everyone repaired to the much, much warmer church hall for food and drink provided by the congregation, while clergy and family went up to the crematorium at Horsham St Faith. Altogether I think Rosemary would have approved.
Yesterday, before the rain, we went to see Avatar in 3D at the cinema with Annette and Mike, after they came round for a light meal. Slightly mixed about the film, but technically it was very impressive indeed. I think it worked well: not sure quite what I wasn’t sure about, and I won’t discuss it here in case anyone who reads it hasn’t seen the film. Definitely worth a visit, I’d say. Earlier in the day Dot got a chip in her car windscreen fixed by a mobile unit in Morrison’s car park and picked up some more fuel for the fire. I disposed of some paper and bottles in the recycling area as no recycling truck has been viewed in our vicinity since well before Christmas.
Earlier in the week I lost my fifth chess game in a row, then talked about poetry to some 7-11-year-olds at Costessey Junior School. That went quite well, though I feel I haven’t quite got it right yet. Still, the children produced some interesting stuff. Anne C postponed her visit because of thick snow in Derbyshire, so I’ll have to continue with preparing editorial training material without her input. May have to resort to emailing. I could probably manage that.
On Tuesday had a unique Tuesday Group at Howard’s, during which we read through about half of King David’s life story. This provoked some controversial debate, largely centering on the Amalekites, so I’ve done some research as a kind of follow-up for next week. They seem like a pretty unpleasant bunch. The debate aside, the food and wine from Howard were as always excellent. This was followed by an emergency DCC meeting at the vicarage on Wednesday to discuss matters arising from Rosemary’s death. Basically she did just about everything, and we’ll need about six people to replace her. In the absence of one or two key members I took the minutes, which proved quite challenging, but the atmosphere and co-operation was good. Vicky has put in an awful lot of work sorting out papers and money matters. Everyone’s worked pretty hard and without a word of complaint. Not that I’ve heard, anyway. They may all be complaining about me, of course.
The walk into the city last Thursday turned into a bit of a disaster towards the end when for no apparent reason my ankle turned over on Castle Meadow and I fell headlong. Managed to avoid serious injury by turning it into a forward roll, but my ankle was quite sore for a while, though it ‘s much better now. Food from M&S went flying, but that too avoided serious damage. Got bus home and had worries over the weekend trip to Aldeburgh, but miraculously the ankle was nowhere near as bad as I’d feared and hardly affected what we did.
Gentle journey south on Friday afternoon, interrupted by calling at Marion’s in Alburgh to order a Christmas cake. Arrived at Blaxhall before the light failed and found our cottage – Nelson’s Studio – without difficulty. Very rural setting, out in the wilds, though only about three miles from Snape. It was about the tiniest cottage I’ve been in, but brilliantly organised and surprisingly comfortable. It was approached up a very narrow path of large pebbles that was not too easy to negotiate for someone with a dodgy ankle – or anyone else, for that matter. But you could walk on the adjacent grass. Inside there was a small kitchen, a compact living area and a normal-sized loo and shower. Extremely narrow stairs led up to a sleeping area just big enough for a double bed and small wardrobe. Sounds claustrophobic, but we enjoyed it, though we did wonder how anyone a bit wider or a bit less mobile than us would have coped.
After taking the small amount of luggage in, we drove to Snape and Aldeburgh to work out where the venues were for the Poetry Festival. Aldeburgh is a very attractive small town which has the feeling of being extremely vulnerable to the sea: almost no protection. Lovely old houses, many idiosyncratic, and a relaxed atmosphere. Great place to live if you were sure the sea was going to stay where it was. In the evening we had a meal at the Plough and Sail at Snape. I’ve always loved the setting at Snape, and the meal matched it: really delicious.
The next day we’d set aside for the poetry festival, and I’d bought tickets for three events (total £54 for both of us). The first was at a fairly civilised 10.45am, and we were so on the ball that we were first in the queue at the Jubilee Hall. The tickets did not reserve seats, so I was bit worried about getting a decent spot, but we did well each time. The first and longest session was a reading by three poets: Ciaran Berry, David Morley and Maureen Duffy. Berry was not a good reader, and his poems were a bit too prosey for my taste, though he had some interesting ideas and lots of content; Morley was the best reader of the three and very “poetic”, making fascinating use of the Romany language which, he told us later in the day when we bumped into him, has its origins in Sanskrit, the original Romanies being a Hindu warrior caste; Duffy was quite interesting, but did not make a huge impression – perhaps I was tiring.
After this we returned to the cottage to watch Norwich beat Paulton Rovers 7-0 in the FA Cup (the unintentional timing worked out surprisingly well) while having a snack. That was us having a snack, not Norwich City, though they could probably have managed it. After the first ten minutes or so, it was a bit of a stroll. We returned to Aldeburgh for the highlight of the festival for me – an all-new reading by Geoffrey Hill. He starts with the advantage of an amazingly rich, deep voice, adds to it poetry of huge depth and structural complexity (with obscure Eliot-like references, many of which he explained), and a wonderful sense of humour. An immense figure in the poetic world, and I was delighted to have heard him. I don’t know anyone who can compare with him.
Forgot to mention that we saw Caroline Gilfillan at the first session, and I was surprised she wasn’t at this one, but of course it was sold out. After the 35 minutes we headed into town and found an excellent fish and chip restaurant, the Golden Galleon, on the High Street. Good quality and amazing speed of service, giving us time to call into a couple of exhibitions, which were not exactly compelling (though the quality of the photography in one was first-class) but gave us a chance to see the other two venues: the Peter Pears Gallery and the Cinema Gallery. We then wandered up to the final venue at the White Lion Hotel, where we had trouble attracting the interest, or even presence, of a barperson, but eventually had a quick drink before hearing David Constantine talk compellingly on Brecht as a poet. Good stuff, but I’m never sure that translations of Brecht really work: he relied a lot on the poetic sound of quite ordinary phrases in German, and they don’t make the journey into English too well. The ideas are good, though.
Wandered out into the night (which was when we ran into David Morley and had a brief chat) and then drove home, noticing the startling brightness of the starry sky, first in Aldeburgh but much more so in Blaxhall, where there was practically no other light visible. Eventually went in and watched a film – Sex in the City – before catching a bit of football and then squeezing up to bed.
Dot at Orford: bright and breezyWalberswick
Rained hard in the night, but the next day, like the previous one, dawned bright and pretty much stayed that way, though the occasional cloud drifted across. In the sun it was warm, and we sat outside an Orford cafe for our tea/coffee and cake, served disturbingly by a guy with a bad cold. Took in the ambience of a beautiful little town and walked from the quay along the water’s edge before cutting back up to the castle. Shut, of course, but often they’re better like that, and its outside shape was impressive, like a high rectangular block. Bought some fresh cod from the quayside before heading north, past Leiston Abbey before arriving at Yoxford in a bid to find somewhere Dot and Barbara could have lunch on their way down to Ipswich – well, about now, actually. No luck there (the ideal spot turned out not to serve lunch on Mondays) so we headed north again and finally found the White Hart at Blythburgh, which was so ideal that we stopped there for a drink before heading to Walberswick for a stroll on the beach and around the harbour in perfect autumn weather. Then spent some time reconnoitering the route Dot would take today from Blundeston to Blythburgh to meet Barbara – before heading home via Beccles. Found that our Humax had failed to record anything and stuck itself again, which was a bit irritating. We tried to watch Merlin on BBC iPlayer, but that encountered bandwidth problems and I was invited to download the iPlayer desktop, which I did, successfully. Must have been magic. I blame Merlin.
Later, after I had gone to an excellent Ambient Wonder Remembrance event, we watched Garrow and Match of the Day 2 live to avoid any further problems, but naturally the Humax recorded them OK. And then stuck again at 8am today. Machines – don’t you love ’em? Dot has just rung to say she has arrived at the White Hart, so it was all worthwhile. Brilliant sunshine there, raining here.
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.
