And so the world changes. All of a sudden Dot and I, together with all other over-70s, are supposed to self-isolate to avoid an upsurge of the coronavirus among those least able to survive it. Not quite sure how this is intended to work. Already we have had a guy round to fix the cooker, and Dot has gone off to Jarrolds to get her lip waxed (after checking first that it would go ahead). We have also had newspapers delivered. Does the coronavirus stick to newspapers?

Sporting and entertainment events have been widely cancelled. The Suffolk Poetry Festival, scheduled for May, has gone, and I’m not sure we’ll be able to go to church on Sunday. Yesterday we were the last people to visit Phyllis (91) at her care home before they banned visitors. In the afternoon (pre-announcement) Dot went to a school at Worstead to have a chat with the head teacher. When she returned she joined me at Morrisons to do some food shopping. The shelves were noticeably bare. No paracetamol or toilet rolls, of course, but also not much meat.

There was an item on Facebook suggesting that ibuprofen was particularly useless against coronavirus, but paracetamol was good. This is in line with my preference anyway – my stomach really doesn’t like ibuprofen – but I suspect it may be a scam.

Phil’s birthday last Thursday seems years away. We went round in the morning to take him his card and presents, and they seemed quite cheerful, though Joy didn’t look all that well. He had just done their monthly supermarket shop; so they will be all right for a while. One good thing about all this is that so many people are anxious to help those who are isolated. A number of groups have sprung up.

On Saturday Dot and I just managed to get to St Peter Mancroft in time for a concert for peace by St Gregory’s Orchestra (conductor Martin Wyatt). They played Tschaikovsky’s 4th symphony, and it was beautifully done. Vicki was on flute, and we spoke to her afterwards. We sat next to Caren Gazley and (accidentally) behind Phil Kerrison and – in the seat in front of him – Judy. Her climate change take at St Luke’s had been cancelled, which is strange, because according to computer modelling it was going ahead. Afterwards Dot and I had a drink with Caren and Phil at Starbuck’s on the Walk.

The Sunday church service was a bit prolonged because Carrie had a lot to say about the coronavirus and how we would keep an eye on each other, as well as other people. The usual suspects added their own ideas, of course. Phil was leading and did well to keep it all going on course. Howard did one of his almost impenetrable sermons, referring to the King James version and Leviticus. I think he was born a century or two too late, but he is such a nice guy that it doesn’t matter.

He did suggest that we should behave as if we all had coronavirus (though in a mild form), but his wife pointed out that if we did, no-one would be there. I fear this may indeed be the case next week.

Still, we are having frequent FaceTime sessions with David and Chrissy, who have just enjoyed a weekend away at a very upscale (as they would say) hotel. On the minus side, it’s extremely unlikely that Oliver and Amy will be travelling to Canada for Easter. How Dave and Julia will endure self-isolation doesn’t bear thinking about.

Israel is receding into the distance, though I’ve just written a piece on it for my website. Several members of our group have reported being ill, but I don’t think any of them has coronavirus, although a couple of them self-isolated, which seems quite a nice idea. Dot and I have just pieced together a narrow IKEA bookcase or two for the hall, but we need something to stick it to the wall, as I’m pretty sure there’s wiring where there would normally be a screw.

Dot picked up the bookcases yesterday while I was at the doctor’s. My blood pressure was unexpectedly low, and so there was nothing to talk about really. I am going to have a blood test at the end of the month. Before that we’d been up to Boots to choose frames for my new glasses, and Dot unexpectedly got some too. She doesn’t like to be left out. Afterwards we had a cup of tea in Tea Junction.

Later still we went to the cinema to see Emma, which was entertaining and quite satisfying.

On Monday we had been to the Robinsons for tea/coffee and a rundown on the Holy Land. Philip was quite perturbed that there were 55 in our party, because he had been under the impression that we had gone in a minibus. He was also worried (quite rightly) about Syrian refugees on the Turkish border, though this wasn’t as near Israel as I think he believed it was.

In the afternoon I drove to Beccles for a meeting of Suffolk poets at Lynne Nesbit’s house. She is a singer and a poet, and good at both. The other four were slightly less impressive, but I think we’ll manage to get something together for the Poetry Festival. Good cake and tea, and quite a pleasant afternoon. I read a couple of controversial poems, but they seemed to quite like them.

On Sunday I preached at St Augustine’s, including as you might expect references to the Holy Land, but concentrating on Psalm 121, which has more impact after you’ve been to Israel. Ray and Chris weren’t there because Chris is quite ill: her stomach cancer is rearing its head again. During the Peace we all made eye contact only (coronavirus) but took Communion as usual!

The previous day we had been to the George Hotel at Swaffham for Allan Higbee’s 80th birthday party – a lunchtime buffet with cake and drinks. Dot was kind enough to drive back, and although we didn’t know many people there, we got to know some by the time we left. I got on well with Allan’s brother Brian, who is a big Leonard Cohen fan – and a singer and guitarist. He played a Cohen song later on. Allan is not a big fan: he’s more into choral music. Lot of family members there, including Alex (very nice) and her daughter Ariana and husband Paolo, who is working for Amazon and loving every minute.

Friday morning. We went to Carrie’s book club last night, but I could barely concentrate, although they started with a bit that mentioned Caesarea Philippi, which gave us (more accurately Dot) an opportunity to expand and enthuse. I’m sleeping quite well, but my stomach is not quite back to normal, and nor is Dot’s. We have heard of a couple of other people from the pilgrimage with stomach upsets…

Back to the Israel trip…

Surprisingly I felt well enough on the Sunday to continue with the tour, which just goes to show that Imodium works, or maybe it was the other stuff kindly brought to me by Damon, a very nice vicar from Lowestoft. Or both. Anyway, I had an early breakfast and suffered no ill-effects; so in cold and windy weather I joined the bus, which left later than usual. Too late, in fact, because we reached the morning Eucharist at St George’s Cathedral in Jerusalem after it had started, and we poured in during the sermon, which was in either Hebrew or Arabic, probably the latter. Because of the embarrassment and haste I found myself sitting behind a pillar, which wasn’t perfect. We filed forward to take the wafers, but there was no wine distributed because of the coronavirus panic, which had reached Israel. We had some nice mint tea or coffee afterwards with members of the congregation and pilgrims from other places, such as Exeter.

Afterwards we had a bit of a wait for the bus driver, who had been given the wrong timings, then drove to John the Baptist’s birthplace, which also had a spring. Dot did a reading here, and afterwards we declined the opportunity to embark on another climb (I was advised not to in my weakened state, but wasn’t going to anyway) and had a lovely lunch with Anne and James. This consisted largely of a cooked camembert, which may not sound the right thing to eat after diarrhoea, but it didn’t seem to do any harm. It did make us late back to the bus, though – a misunderstanding over time. There was a lot of that.

We then drove to the Holocaust Museum, which unsurprisingly contained far too much to take in in the time allowed – 90 minutes. Need to return really, but my stomach is voting against it. One of our number got lost on the way back to the bus. She looked lost all the time, actually, but most of the time she wasn’t. Back at the hotel we had evening prayer and reminiscences, and then we had a chat in the bar with Anne, James and Audrey, who is from Northern Ireland. Anne had some whisky she wanted us to finish, but I resisted the temptation.

This is where my notes run out, but I seem to remember that on the Monday we left fairly early and drove to Abu Ghosh, which is not an Indian menu item but a Benedictine monastery and church which is reckoned to be a possible site of the meeting on the road to Emmaus, and so a fitting last stop before Tel Aviv. We had a Communion service and handed in our headsets. The weather was very pleasant.

At Tel Aviv we had an interesting problem before reaching the Departure area. Unfortunately I can’t tell you what it was in case this is accessed online by someone other than my two usual readers. Suffice to say that two people gave slightly different versions of where we had been, which for some reason alarmed the security staff. (It was harder to get out of Israel than to get in.) Anyway, we made it through all right, having jettisoned our water bottles unnecessarily (they don’t worry about taking liquids through).

We had sandwiches with James and Anne and then wandered round in the rather nice Departure area before making our way to Gate E8. Then, after the usual delays in boarding and taxi-ing (Dot changed with Damon again so that we could sit together) we took off and, eventually, landed at Luton, where the bus was waiting. The Easyjet cabin crew were excellent, but the toilet facilities very poor (two toilets for nearly 200 people over five hours). I also would have liked some information about the countries we were flying over, but no.

We got back to Norwich around 10.10pm, which gave us time to walk through the Close and get through the gate before it shut at 10.30pm. Budgens was shut, but Dot went to the Co-op at the station and picked up some essentials, like bread. We went to sleep pretty quickly.

OK, it’s now Thursday afternoon. Dot has been to North Walsham while I had my eyes tested and bought a present for Philip (his birthday is next week). We then both went to Morrisons to get some food before it all ran out. Already no Paracetamol. I should mention that Norwich City beat Spurs on penalties last night to reach the quarter-finals of the FA Cup. So the age of miracles is not past.

Israel pilgrimage continued….

After the Vermehrungskirche we proceeded to the site of Peter’s redemption (where Jesus said to him: “Feed my sheep”). There is a statue to that effect – quite a nice one. And a lovely view out over Lake Galilee. After this there was lunch at a lakeside restaurant that I really don’t remember (though I do remember that two glasses of wine were 70 shekels = about £18), and a further journey to Capernaum, also on the lake and the site of Peter’s mother’s house and the synagogue that Jesus preached at. It was more or less Jesus’ home town at that time. A striking place.

This was followed by a trip on a boat on Lake Galilee, during which the crew unexpectedly played the British National Anthem and then the worship song Ten Thousand Reasons. The boat was called Noah. The engine was switched off for a few magical minutes halfway back to Tiberias. Beautiful setting.

Back at the hotel we had a Eucharist and met David and Bridget’s friends, John and Kathy Ladd. The weather had been pretty good, especially towards evening. And that was just the first day.

The Wednesday started with a visit to Mount Tabor, site of the Transfiguration. The weather was good, and the setting lovely. We had to get shuttle taxis to the top in order to negotiate a long series of hairpin bends on a narrow road. Halfway up we met a squad of soldiers walking down, and there was a big police presence at the top, plus several cats. Interestingly we saw hardly any dogs in Israel or Palestine. Good views and another Communion here. Because of the height it was a bit chilly, and Miles lent Dot his jacket. She also bought a yashmak.

After getting the shuttles back down (some walked, but it was a very long way), we got the bus to Nazareth and pulled in there (Band reference). We walked up to Mary’s house and the inevitable large church or three erected to commemorate it, surround it and make it as unlike Mary’s house as it was possible to be. Very nice statue of Joseph close by.

Afterwards we drove to Cana for a fast-food lunch and Coke. Quite tasty, actually. This was followed by a visit to the house where Jesus did his first miracle, turning water into wine. We had a service. Lots of adverts for such items as “First Miracle Wine”. The church allegedly contained a huge jar where the water turned into wine had once rested, but it was massive, immovable and obviously inauthentic; so I guess it was the exact one.

Thursday was pleasantly warm, but we made the mistake of getting relegated (by lateness) to the back seat of the bus; so two long journeys were really uncomfortable. The first, to Jericho, was interrupted at one of the spots were Jesus was supposed to have been baptised, where we renewed our baptismal vows and got sprinkled by Jordan water. Several other people there, observing that we had a genuine Bishop with us, seized on the opportunity to get sprinkled by him, which was partly amusing and partly touching.

We proceeded south to Jericho and the Mount of Temptation, which was supposed to be where Jesus was tempted by Satan. This involved a cable car ride (for us, not Him) and quite a few steps, narrow passageway and a cave. There are a lot of caves in Israel, though technically this was Palestine (I think). Had a drink in the cafe with Anne and James (this often happened), and on our return to below sea level Dot had a brief ride on a camel, because it was there.

Drove on past the sycamore tree allegedly climbed by Zaccheus to see Jesus pass (but clearly not old enough) and at some stage we had a really nice lunch at an open air cafe, followed by a shopping visit to a co-op, where Dot bought some Nard. We then proceeded to the Dead Sea, where I toyed with the idea of swimming but in fact paddled. It felt like any other sea, only muddier. Both Dot and I managed to avoid falling over. Bit of a resort, but beautiful if you managed to shut that out.

Afterwards we got on the bus and drove to Bethlehem via the Jericho road (rugged and beautiful) and the busier and least recognisable parts of Jerusalem. Feeling pretty ill in the back seat by the time we reached the Manger Square Hotel in Bethlehem. Big hotel, nicer room but the food was not so good. We were in Palestine now, having passed through the checkpoint where Jerusalem joins Bethlehem: no countryside, just houses. Oh, and a wall. after dinner we went for a short walk but couldn’t find Manger Square.

Friday was sunny and warm, and we got a better seat on the bus. But before that we walked up to the Church of the Nativity, having found Manger Square. Obviously it is supposed to mark the place where Jesus was born, and we queued up to see the “exact spot”, which is in a cave below ground. Ho, hum. I liked the Byzantine church, the oldest in the world, and the area round it. Afterwards we went to a shopping opportunity and Dot was persuaded (by me) to buy an expensive necklace. We got some other gifts too.

From there we walked to the Shepherds’ Fields and had another Communion. This was quite moving because it faced open countryside which you could almost imagine shepherd and sheep on. I believe it was near here – at the Tower of the Flock (Migdal Elder) – that Jesus was actually born, but our guide did not agree with this. What does he know? He’s only an Aramaic-speaking Jewish Christian.

After another fast-food lunch, after which we almost left someone behind (not really, but he thought we had when we were simply turning round), we drove to Bethlehem University, where we met some of the students – I asked a couple of questions, surprisingly. They were all very pleasant, but then we weren’t Israelis. We moved on from there too Dheisheh Refugee Camp, which unexpectedly turned out to be a building in the middle of Bethlehem. Here we heard from a very pleasant and fluent representative and met Anne Aves, who is from Norwich and runs a charity to help and educate people in the refugee camp.

Saturday was Leap Day – 29th February – and was grey and cold, with some rain. I avoided this by being ill. I had had violent diarrhoea the previous evening after visiting an ice cream shop with many others, and it continued when I woke up in the morning. So I stayed at the hotel while Dot went off to old Jerusalem. As it turned out, because of a programme change, this turned out to be the only day the group went to old Jerusalem; so I am one of the few pilgrims who have spent a week in the Holy Land without visiting old Jerusalem or even seeing it from outside.

It felt like a very long day. I got some medicine which stopped the diarrhoea, and I was able to go for a short walk, but most of the time I was just trying to sleep – after they had serviced my room, which they took ages to complete. They started by taking away the towels. Then after about an hour they bought some new ones. After about another hour they actually made up the room. Felt a bit better towards evening and went to a cash machine, where I was helped by a young Palestinian, who used his own account to change the Jordanian dinars I received into shekels. He then showed me his father’s shop! Very nice people – I got a lovely mint tea – and I bought a scarf for Dot and two mugs. The father complained about Israeli tour guides who only took people to their friends’ establishments, which I’m sure is true.

Dot get back very late, because this was the only day they ate out in the evening (at a Bedouin restaurant – presumably it’s never in the same place). She brought me a meal, but I couldn’t eat it, apart from a little flat bread.

To be continued again…

It’s now Wednesday, late afternoon, and Dot is out visiting Hickling school for a SIAMS inspection. I have started writing my sermon for Sunday. Dot had a touch of diarrhoea at lunchtime: hope she didn’t catch it from me. Mike Read came round unexpectedly this afternoon to bring me a copy of his new book of chess games. Told me a bit of his life story involving a gunman, an insurance company and several nervous breakdowns.

So the Holy Land pilgrimage is over, with only a slight uneasiness in my stomach to bring it back to life. Oh, and the photographs. And this blog. And possibly a piece on my website. And…

We set our alarm for an unearthly hour on Monday 24th, got out of bed shortly after 4am and got a taxi up to the Cathedral for 5.30. I knew it would be too early – we waited at least 20 minutes in the rain and cold and wind before it turned up, being joined at intervals by our fellow-travellers.

Eventually it arrived, and the trip to Luton Airport was quite quick and uneventful., as was the passage through the various levels of purgatory to the Departure Lounge. Had a coffee with Anne and James Whittet, who we know, and met a couple of other people.

The Easyjet was late leaving, of course, but made up time a bit and we reached Tel Aviv in early evening, meeting our tour guide Hanna (Israeli for John) and got in the bus. I might as well get it out of the way quickly and say our driver was totally brilliant, especially in the narrow streets and tiny parking places we came to love, or at least know.

We drove to Tiberias – quite a long trip, reaching our hotel too late for supper but in time to eat the “cold plate” they had placed in our room. Quite nice, actually, and the hotel was pleasant enough. Not that we were there much: the next day we had a 6.30am call and made an extremely early start. Our bedroom overlooked the bus station, which was interesting, and when the mist cleared later in the day we could see Lake Galilee.

The weather was quite pleasant, and we drove to the Mount of the Beatitudes, where we had some liturgy and I lost the bus. Not a good start. However, I found it again without too much embarrassment, and we drove north to Caesarea Philippi, which may have been my favourite stop. We were on the edge of the Golan Heights, not far from both Lebanon and Syria – we could see them both – with Mount Herman in the distance. The scenery was stunning and the buildings were in ruins, as they should all be. It was the source of the Jordan, the site of the cave of Pan, entrance to the underworld, and the place where Peter told Jesus that he was the Messiah.

More liturgy, and we headed south again, along a road which was apparently undergirded by mines in case of an invasion. I just hope they could tell the difference between an invasion and a tour bus. We reached the Church of Multiplication, near where Jesus fed the five thousand (Vermehrungskirche). To be continued…

Back in England late last night after a week in Israel with a group from the diocese, led by the Dean. To give all the details might require a book, and I will give more in due course. Suffice it to say at the moment that I believe I am possibly the only visitor (pilgrim) to the Holy Land who has spent a week there without going into the old city of Jerusalem, or even seeing it from a distance. Galilee was nice, though.

Last preparations today for Holy Land trip. Feel much like Moses, except that he didn’t have the hassle of airport security to put up with. We have just received an e-mail telling us our flight has been brought forward half an hour. Given that our bus has allowed itself well over three hours to get to Luton, this may not affect us, but no doubt someone will be in touch some time in the early hours to tell us we have to be at the Cathedral at 5.20 instead of 5.50. Oh, joy.

David is going to Canada later in the week. I fear he is not giving our trip his full attention, and I don’t really blame him.

The week has gone by in a bit of a blur. We saw the Hendersons on Monday for an hour (quite a long time for them) and on Tuesday we went for lunch at the Gem restaurant round the corner with Des, Chris and John from No 19. Des organised it. Quite nice, though it’s not my favourite type of food.

Later that day Dot went to the ballet. She had a meal first with Anne and wasn’t feeling too well, but she seems to have got over it. I was intending to go to Jurnet’s poetry evening but I wasn’t feeling great either; so I finished translating a couple of Paston letters and caught up with some other stuff. Pity, as I’d written a poem about uncertainty specially. Admittedly, most of my poems are about uncertainty…

Highlight of the week was our visit to Aylesbury on Wednesday and Thursday to see David, Oliver and Amy. Stayed at the Travelodge and had a lovely meal at Zizzi’s in the evening. Still find Aylesbury very difficult to navigate, but we managed to find a petrol station before leaving, and with about 30 miles still in the tank. On the Thursday we got some food from Nandos shortly before leaving.

While we were in Aylesbury Amy attempted to teach us a complex strategy game, but we proved sadly inept at it. We did better at cheat, whist and knockout whist. Oliver had a bad cold, but David says he is now improving. Admired the new chairs. The apartment looks pretty good as a whole. Had a political discussion, but the odds were not good. I spent a fair amount of time yesterday shredding some paper for David, which I should have done ages ago.

Yesterday we had an early hair appointment with Linda, and I had a number three round the sides as a tribute to my grandson. Later our electrician friend Luke failed to turn up again, and this morning we went to church. The weather outside has been very windy again, though it is quite mild. Tomorrow may be another matter. Our new lay canon is apparently quite ill, so was unable to lead the service, which was a pity. Sang one of my songs during Communion, with Phil on guitar.

Des wanted to use our ladder yesterday , which meant I spent some considerable time trying to find the key to fit the padlock. However, success in the end. Fred and thousands of his family are coming down to see the match against Leicester on Friday and he had been hoping to stay with us (just Fred, not all of them), but of course we will not be here. Pity. Not hopeful that they will be rejoicing, since we managed to lose again today, but you never know.

Another weekend, another storm. This time it was Storm Dennis, and it nearly aborted Kristine’s visit to Norwich, but she bravely went ahead with it, and the storm turned out to be survivable. She came via Cambridge and went back via the fabled Ingatestone bus, which took her to the Central Line at Newbury Park. Fortunately Leyton is on the Central Line…

We had a good time with her. She arrived at 11.43, and we had a coffee before going to Gem for lunch, which she insisted on paying for. Afterwards we showed her a bit of Outnumbered (it had come up in the conversation), and she loved it – never having seen it before. Obviously everyone should see Outnumbered. Time passed quickly, and it was a bit of a rush to give her cake and get her to the station for the 17.04 . I bade her farewell while Dot rushed off to Carrow Road for the home match against Liverpool. Norwich played really well and lost 1-0. So no change there.

The rest of the weekend was equally momentous. I led the service yesterday, and in the afternoon we braved the threat of rain to walk to the Cathedral for the installation of Carrie as a Lay Canon, or Big Gun, as I prefer to see it. Most of St Augustine’s went, and after undergoing the chill of the Cathedral and the rather tedious pseudo-legal proceedings and processings we had coffee at the west end, where we joined by Karen and Phil, Jo from South Africa, Kim and her daughter and a number of Carrie’s relatives.

Later in the day we heard that Sharon from church had had emergency open heart surgery at Addenbrooke’s to get rid of a blockage in her heart. She seems to be recovering ok. Bit of a shock for her, though she had been feeling ill. Also a shock for us and for her partner Steve, whose mother’s funeral we went to not long ago.

In further illness news, Bridget seems to be having serious problems following the death of her mother, and her husband David is not too well either. She is on medication and is being seen daily by a crisis team. Dot has been to see her, as have many others.

Bridget didn’t make it to Cake and Compline last Tuesday, but David came and didn’t look well. A lot of prayer both then and since has been going upwards – or in all directions, actually. Immersive.

On Wednesday Dot and I took the opportunity to squeeze in Little Women, which was very good in many ways. Later I spent some time with Neville in the pub while the orchestra rehearsed. He seems pretty well now.

The next day I drove out to North Walsham in the rain to take the Mautby and Mannington leaflets to Rob, as well as the Paston magazine. Had a cup of tea there. Also dropped off some NCFC tickets we had accumulated at Jonathan’s workplace.

On Valentine’s Day Dot and I had a romantic lunch at Jarrold’s The Exchange restaurant, following which we walked up to M&S and got mixed up in a Climate Change march – at least I think that’s what it was. Some people were taking pictures; so there’s a risk of wrong conclusions being drawn. We just happened to be going in the same direction, to pick up shekels and dollars for our Israel trip. After that we walked up to the Barclays at Whitefriars, where Dot was meeting Anna to go through some documents about Phyllis – something to do with a power of attorney, I think.

I walked home on my own and was exhausted. Dot arrived about 40 minutes later, noticeably less exhausted. There you go. The old order changes, giving place to the new.

We got a real blast of Storm Ciara yesterday, with very high winds and some heavy rain, but fortunately it didn’t get really bad till we were home from church. So we got a good 17-18 people for the service. Sarah was ill with vertigo again; so the Communion service was taken by Liz. All went very well.

It’s still extremely windy, and we had an impressive shower of hail about an hour ago. In the west of the county it’s snowing, as it is over much the country. As so often (though not always) we get away with it a bit in East Anglia. Some quite bad floods in Yorkshire. Still a possibility of more bad weather overnight.

So we haven’t been out today. I’ve been at the computer a fair bit, but I’ve also helped Dot re-organise my study, other wise known as Oliver’s room. It is now bedless, until we get a sofa bed, and has Mum’s gate-leg table in it. My favourite table – goes right back to Brian Avenue. Another plus is that the radiator is now freed to give me a bit of hot air – as if I needed it.

We had a busy day last Wednesday, which was a bight and calm day. First, I got some Paston leaflets from Nick Stone’s office on Castle Meadow, with the help of Dot parking in a loading bay in Opie Street (I’d got a Blofield display board on foot the day before). Then we filled the car up with petrol and had some lunch. Then I went off on my own to the cleaners and then to visit my cousin Barbara, who now lives at Cromer, separated from her husband.

She seemed delighted to see me, and we had a good talk for about 90 minutes, talking about our mutual relatives. She seemed to be doing well. In the evening Dot and I went to the book club, with only Judy, Carrie and Kim for company, plus a newcomer – a black woman called Roslyn (I think) – who supported some of our more radical views. So that was nice.

The next day we went to see The Personal History of David Copperfield at the cinema – an excellent, very witty and inventive film with the brilliant idea of using black and white actors irrespective of whether they were related or not (eg A posh white lad had an even posher black mother). That’s what I call diversity.

On Saturday I picked up my pills from the chemist, then walked out to St James Hill from the newly empty car park on Britannia Road (following the closure of the cafe). Again a beautiful day, and Dot spent quite a lot of time in the garden, transforming the patio.

Should be feeling reinvigorated after a weekend at Buxton, but this proved not to be the case, as I was feeling quite ill for much of it. I had a minor sort of virus going on in the background, with quite a lot of coughing, but on the first night there I had a stomach problem which kept me away most of the night. Painful and worrying, but I still don’t know what caused it, because it didn’t resolve itself in the usual way (if you see what I mean). At first I thought it might be a kidney problem, but I now think it was probably something I ate. The fish and chips certainly seemed underdone.

As a result I stayed in bed on Saturday morning (the pain had miraculously gone) while Dot and the Evetts went down into Buxton. Dot brought me a sandwich back for lunch, which was fine, and we all went into town again (or me for the first time) in the afternoon. Saw the new Pump Room, which is quite spectacular, showcasing the spa element of the town. Called in at Catherine’s upstairs cafe, where I declined the prosecco. In the evening, after another doze, I had two starters instead of a main, which turned out to be a good idea. Also went to bed early and slept rather better.

The poor forecast for Sunday inclined us toward going into Manchester on the train, but the forecast changed overnight, and instead we drove to Hartington, had coffee in a very pleasant cafe and then walked for about four miles, partly along the Tissington Trail, partly along the High Peak Trail and partly along a very muddy farm track. Dot did well despite wearing Julia’s boots because we had “forgotten” to bring hers. I had put the two boot bags in from the garage, not realising that her boots were not in the boot bag, but two lots of her summer shoes were.

During the walk there was quite a bit of sun, and much less wind than there had been the previous day (and has been since). Afterwards we went back to the cafe and had lunch, before walking reluctantly (in my case) round the town, taking in the Old Cheese Shop and a place that sold caps. We bought some excellent cheese and, unexpectedly, a cap that fit me so perfectly that I could not reject it. It is a sort of Peaky Blinders style but suits me despite that – so I am told.

I omitted to mention that on the way up to Buxton we almost ran out of petrol, but found a lonely service station – just north of Hartington, as it turned out – which sold petrol at roughly the same price as the Tesco station in Buxton. Bit of a relief. And stupid not to have bought it earlier. I momentarily thought Derbyshire was more civilised than it is. I should have known, with the blanket 50mph limits on the main roads.

On Sunday night I risked a steak, and it was fine. We still went to bed fairly early, though. On the way home Dot and I called in to see Andrew, who was on pretty good form, though he was eating his lunch when we arrived. They told him we were waiting for him in his room, but he forgot and started watching a film on TV. We are not the attraction we used to be. Helen and Hollity were very welcoming as usual. Andrew’s new chair looked good.

The drive home was straightforward. We stopped at Cambridge Services, which was in stark contrast to last time we were there. Easy to access and quite empty.

Way before we went to Buxton – in the Tuesday – I went to a funeral at Carlton Colville. This was for Marjorie Solomon, who had been coming to our church for the last couple of years. She was 91 and had been living with her son Steve and his partner Sharon, who brought her to church in a wheelchair. She was a lovely old lady, and seven of us – Liz and David Cannon, Debbie, Ray and Christine and Ellie – went to the parish church for the service and the burial in the churchyard. There was a bitter wind, but a nice hour or so in the pub afterwards. Marjorie had lived just over the road from the pub nearly all her life. Some nice things were said on her behalf about how welcoming our church was. It was worth missing my haircut (Dot had hers done as usual because it would have been too difficult to rearrange.)

The next day Dot and I went to North Walsham and put some flowers on her parents’ grave, and on Doreen’s. It was her mother’s 100th birthday.

Today the wind is still cold; so we took a bus up to the Archant Pensioners’ Coffee Morning. Neville Miller was there (former theatre critic and feature writer on the Evening News), as were the usual suspects. Discovered Robin is 88.