The weather has turned to autumn, with a chilly wind blowing around Mr Bunn, who has been on the roof for the last couple of days, repairing our valley and replacing some tiles. He should finish later today, as should Tim the decorator (no, not me: this one’s from Yarmouth and knows what he’s doing). Both very pleasant and helpful guys. Tim woke me at 8am yesterday, but today I was ready for him, despite having a lousy night for some reason. Dot is out at Acle school, but I’m expecting her back soon.
So the living room should be completed and dry by tomorrow. Unfortunately we can’t get the furniture back till Monday, but that’s a minor thing really.
On Saturday, when it was still relatively warm, we had our hair cut and then went to Southwold to celebrate the Robinsons’ ruby wedding. We arrived a couple of hours early and after driving round by the harbour (spoiled visually by a lot of construction work going on) we parked on the seafront and walked down to the pier, where we had a cup of tea in a cafe out of the wind. Then we drove up to the Swan and negotiated its parking challenge (the most contorted parking area I’ve ever come across) before Dot went into the loo and changed into her dinner party clothes. The Robinson family duly arrived – children earlier than parents, who brought Francine with them. Eleven of us in all, and a very nice meal.
I was preaching at church on Sunday and completed my preparation less than an hour before the service started. Still, it went OK, and afterwards I sat in the church for an hour waiting to see if anyone wanted to look round – it was Heritage Day. One woman did, the sparse attendance possibly down to a mistake in the Heritage booklet, which had us open only on the Saturday. When Claire arrived to take over, Dot and I made for North Walsham via Morrisons (I was almost out of petrol) and took in the cemetery before visiting Jessie and supplementing our lunchtime sandwiches with a piece of cake. The cemetery was at its best – really warm in the afternoon sun.
Last night I replayed my knockout chess game against Greg, which was again an up-and-down affair. I emerged eventually with a clear advantage, but in time trouble couldn’t be sure of the winning line. I messed it up, but he obliged by taking so long over his calculations that he lost on time. So I am through to the next round.
We now have an empty living room that echoes to the sound of footsteps. But the ceiling is up and skimmed, complete with coving and substantially more insulation than we had originally. Now I just have to persuade Mr Bunn the Builder to come and repair the roof. The felt is definitely in need of replacement where the leak was, and in a couple of other places too. I’ve taken pictures. Redecoration should take place early next week after the ceiling is completely dry.
This week has as a result been rather odd. I’ve spent quite a lot of time trying to write a sermon and become involved in other computerish things – most excitingly the resurrection of my website, that David has done a brilliant job with. I really like the look of it and have posted something new to celebrate.
Today, in very warm weather, Dot and I played pitch and putt on Mousehold, which would have been a lot more fun if (a) I hadn’t played so badly and (b) I hadn’t been worrying about finding details of our travel insurance for our Treyn holiday. The policy was online but it proved very difficult to find because the directions to it were out of date. I think it’s all sorted now. I suspect (a) and (b) may have been related, but of course I could just be losing whatever touch I had.
As soon as the Murrays returned to Canada, the weather improved. Yesterday could almost be described as hot, especially if you had been walking into the city, paying in some church cheques and then, out of the blue, buying a guitar for Oliver’s birthday. Last Friday, by contrast, was not hot, but we did manage to get out into the garden for a quick drink before retreating inside for a meal with Roger, Barbara, Anne and Philip. Excellent meal by Dot – citrus salmon – despite her not feeling great, but I was so tired that I actually went to sleep toward the end of the evening. I don’t suppose anyone noticed.
On Saturday it was quite pleasant, and we went to Holt, where Dot and Barbara shopped while Roger and I went our separate ways. I accidentally found this beautiful area called Spout Hills and walked through it and on along a path into a hilly field. Quite magical in places. Started writing a poem. Also bought a new book by Alan Garner called Boneland, which is supposed to be a sequel to the Brisingamen trilogy. Went on to Blakeney and had afternoon tea in the Blakeney Hotel’s upstairs lounge, then walked a little, but the wind was quite chilly by then. Drove home via Salthouse (brief walk on the shingle), then West Runton and by country lanes to Aylsham.
In the evening we had a really nice meal at Loch Fyne. Our waiter, Pedro, was brilliant, and I entered into the spirit of things by having the seasonal fish, which was turbot – and very good too with samphire and chips. This was a sort of celebration of the Murrays’ 45th wedding anniversary, which was actually on the Sunday, when they were flying home – which meant that Barbara would be practically unconscious for most of the time. Afterwards, there was the packing, while Dot and I watched Match of the Day.
They left early on Sunday, in case of hold-ups on the road, but actually made it to Heathrow in record time and rang us to tell us so: unfortunately the phone rang in the middle of one of our quiet periods in church, and Dot had to rush out with her bag, because the phone was somewhere in there… We spent the rest of the day (with breaks) clearing the living room of all we could in preparation for the work that is now going on. Trickiest bit was keeping the curtains neat and depositing them on the table tennis table, but it was followed closely by shifting the hi-fi and the television, plus DVD-player, Humax and Apple TV – then reconnecting all the wires. Everything worked except the television, because the aerial wasn’t receiving a signal. We could still use Apple TV and watch recorded programmes, but not live TV. I Have called in our expert aerial man Ryan, and he will be arriving later today.
Yesterday the furniture men arrived promptly at 9am, and all seemed to be well until they found they couldn’t safely dismantle the bookcase because the top bit was nailed on. So they shifted it off the wall and made it movable so that it could be worked round. Everything else (bar the piano) was removed, either by us or by them. The house is now a mite cluttered. Today we have the asbestos men, who arrived at about 9.45am and are almost finished. They had to drive here from Lincoln, which seems a bit excessive.
To round off yesterday we had a DCC meeting, during which I presented the financial report. Happily there were no questions I couldn’t answer. Today Dot is doing Philosophy at Kersey in Suffolk, which I happened to stumble on during an earlier inspection trip and which is a lovely little village with a ford in the middle of it and a steep hill up to the church. Nothing to do with Philosophy, but a nice setting for it.
Dot had a bad night on Monday, with much coughing, but she was determined to get to Morston Hall in the evening. Roger drove us so that I could have a drink or two, and the meal was as always excellent, exceeded in quality only by the service. Dot survived well enough, though her throat is very sensitive to vinegar at times like these, and she had one attack (and a much worse one earlier in the day). It is now Friday, and she is almost better. She is preparing a meal tonight for Roger and Barbara (who are in Essex again during the day) and Anne and Philip, who are joining us at 7pm.
We had another first-class meal yesterday, though I made a tactical error which made it rather less special for me. It was at the Ship Inn, Brancaster. I led with a “small” caesar salad and then went for fish and chips which, although very tasty, was far too big a portion, and I had to leave most of the chips and omit the sweet. The others made more judicious choices and raved about it. Once again, the service was first class, and there were vows to return.
Originally, this had been planned as a light lunch to precede a Walking event from Holkham – part of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival. But the weather was so atrocious, and both Dot (especially) and Roger so below par, that in combination with Barbara’s sensitivity to to any temperature below really hot, we were persuaded to abandon the idea. This turned out to be the right decision in so many ways. Exceptionally high winds and driving rain would have made the walking awful even if we had been fit, and it would have been a big rush to get there after the Ship. So that was all good, then – which reminds me, we have already got through both series of Twenty Twelve on DVD, much to the Murrays’ delight. Last night we started on Dollhouse.
The weather generally has been fickle. On Wednesday Roger, Barbara and I had a long walk in the morning while Dot rested, and we took in the Rosary, Lion Wood, part of Mousehold and a large proportion of the Riverside Walk, plus the Cathedral loos and St Andrew’s Hall. It amounted to over six miles. Dot was keen to go to Cromer in the afternoon, so after lunch we set out despite a bad forecast, and got to Cromer just as it started to rain. We bought some fruit and vegetables on the way to the pier, but by the time we reached the sea front the rain was coming down in a quite determined fashion. We had a brief shot at the museum, but in the end I went and got the car and picked them up from in front of the church (traffic through the town was as always awful), driving home through driving rain.
In other news, I have had a couple of e-mails from a Jennifer Lenton in Australia who asked me about my family history. As a result of information she supplied, I am now led to believe that my great-great-great grandfather was one Thomas Lenton, who died in 1806 while working at Woburn Abbey in Bedfordshire and who is related to the said Jennifer. His son William seems to be the one whose tombstone is in Folksworth churchyard. Some more research needed there, though once you get back to 1800, sources are few and far between.
Arrangements for rebuilding our living room are now sorted out: furniture removal Monday, asbestos removal Tuesday, rebuilding ceiling Wednesday; redecoration the following Monday. Sounds like a barrel of laughs.
Later on the 22nd, I walked up the hill and along the path to Ilfracombe, which opened up to give nice views. Met the craft shop crew on the way back, and later in the day we all went to Woolacombe again. It was cooler and windier than before, but still pleasant enough for me to go into the sea with Oliver and Amy as they did some surfing: Dot hired an extra board for Amy, and I quite enjoyed myself.
Afterwards we took everything away from the beach hut and locked up, but it was too late to deposit the key, so Dot and I dropped it in the next morning, reclaiming the deposit. We then continued down the coast to Croyde, where I had spent a holiday as a child, but nothing rang a bell. It wasn’t far, but it was a very slow journey because of the narrow roads. When one queue met another queue, things got tricky, especially when there was a bus involved.
In the afternoon we all went down to the cove as the tide went out and made our way quite a good distance along the beach, looking for paths between the rocks that avoided deep pools. Amy took on the role of tour guide for a while, and Oliver took lots of photographs. He has a good eye for an effective picture. On the way back I took a different route and ended up having to jump the river, wall to wall.
In the evening we all went down to the Grampus for a meal, preceded by some outdoor table tennis. The food was exceptionally good: Oliver and I had steaks, and Roger had a second slice of banoffee pie. Very pleasant pub, to be recommended, which I did in the Daymer Cottage Guest Book.
Elegant Amy, at ease in any situation
On the Friday it rained as we packed up the cars, but it eased off as we left, about 9.45am. It was a bank holiday weekend, so the traffic was predictably bad, but we managed to stay together for the first services on the M4, where we had lunch and said goodbye to David and the children. We still stayed more or less together, though, until they left the M25 at the M1 junction. The M25 hadn’t been too bad (though it was pretty solid going the other way) until then, but it was getting worse as we reached the A1, so I took that route, up to Baldock and along the A505 to the A11. We managed to keep moving well enough until we reached Barton Mills, where there was a queue leaving the roundabout, so we took the normal evasive action through some nice Suffolk countryside and arrived home around 6pm.
On Saturday we decided to go to the Maddermarket for a production of A Murder is Announced, by Agatha Christie. This was remarkable in that it is the first time I have been to a play at the Maddermarket that was badly acted; it was pretty amateurish all round, and it was hard to know where to pin the blame. The director? Key roles? On the bright side, I ran into a couple of ex-Archant library people: Maureen Green and Frances Pearce. Had quite a long chat with Frances, who now lives in Aurania Avenue, behind my childhood home in Brian Avenue.
Yesterday I led the service, and Howard preached about the nature of holy places (everywhere). Unfortunately Dot had developed a sore throat and wasn’t feeling well, so she stayed in bed. However, she managed to come with us to the King’s Head and Ali Tandoori in the evening, with Heather and Simon, and we had a really good time.
Today Dot stayed in bed till late, but then got up, though she isn’t much better. The sore throat is less severe, but she’s developed a cough. Barbara and Roger have been visiting her sister and are just back (6.30pm). I cleaned the car out, getting rid of most of the sand, and did some food shopping. Also caught up with email backlog and the post. Now I will get us all some tea.
Much windier today, and a bit cooler. Yesterday David and Oliver went for a long walk with Barbara; Roger did some photography on the beach; and Dot, Amy and I explored in the cove at very low tide, discovering new routes among the rocks and getting further along the beach amid a moon-type landscape.
Amy showed herself very adept at scrambling: as the rocks were sharp and high, this was quite alarming at times, but she seemed to have good judgement of what she was capable of. Later, we all went out for another walk: I took a slightly different route and took some photographs by the harbour wall, where the sea was rolling in.
After a Lighthouse breakfast with mimosas, the keener among us are off for a walk to the craft shop, and Roger and I are holding the fort.
Halfway through our week at Daymer Cottage. The Murrays and Dot have just left for Barnstaple to do more food shopping, and David and Oliver are playing a card game that Amy has invented. It’s intricate, but it works. I spent an hour playing it with her yesterday. Amazing creativity.
It’s overcast again, but we’ve had some very good weather as well as some rain. We discovered that we were entitled to the use of a beach hut at Woolacombe, which is a huge sandy beach beset by much surfing. We drove there down narrow lanes late on Saturday and managed to park solely because so many people were leaving. Dot obtained the beach hut key from the shop and we found the hut – Number 43, Myrtle – a bit of a trudge down the beach.
We returned yesterday for most of the day (parking £7 per car), and the children enjoyed it very much. It was warm, and the tide was exceptionally low: quite an expedition to reach it. Loads of surfing going on, and the children were able to use the board we found at the house. There were so many people on the beach that we kept losing each other, but the children were quite capable of finding the hut on their own. During the day we bought ice cream, and then chips, from stalls on the beach.
Sunday started grey, but became warm and sunny. We spent most of it down at Lee Bay, which expands dramatically when the tide is out. Loads of rocks and rock pools, and the children especially enjoyed a river that channels down across the beach. Oliver and I (with Roger) had reconnoitred the previous day and found a path to another cove: now the tide was far enough out to reach it across the rocks.
We found a cave and Oliver did much climbing on the rocks. The more vigorous among us decided we would all climb the steps up to the cliff at the far end and walk back round by the road: quite strenuous, but different. Back at the cove Dot and I stayed for an hour or so as the tide came in, until the small space remaining was overrun by dogs.
The house is delightful, with great views of the Bristol Channel and, in clear conditions, Wales. A few boats and kayaks pass at low tide.
Sitting in our lounge at Daymer Cottage, Lee, North Devon. It’s getting dark, the children and the Murrays have gone to bed, and the lights are coming on in what I suppose must be Wales. Amazing clifftop situation with a great view.
We arrived at about 3.30pm after a rather fraught journey from Lulworth Cove, using lesser roads to avoid traffic but thereby lengthening the journey. Dot felt ill after much delicate navigating, so we resorted to the main roads around Axminster and made reasonable progress north-westwards, though the traffic remained heavy. Meanwhile the Murrays and David had an even harder time of it, with David badly delayed by full motorways.
Our welcome supper arrived just after 6pm. Oliver and I took some photographs outside (rather nice setting sun), while Amy posed.
We had spent a couple of nights at Lulworth, where I had booked bed and breakfast at the Lulworth Mill House. We found ourselves in an annexe called the Boat House, with a fantastic view of the cove. I suspected this was a mistake, and so it proved, but we were able to keep the room (though it wasn’t cleaned on the Thursday, for which we got a £20 reduction). Two good meals too, in the Dandelion bistro, which turned out to be the same place.
Had to park quite a way from the hotel, but we did get a season ticket for the main parking area at Lulworth Cove, so that wasn’t too bad. Spectacular coastline. On the Thursday the weather was fine enough for us to walk the very steep hill path to Durdle Door, where we lingered awhile and saw a snake.
We returned to Lulworth for a cream tea (forgetting that I hate clotted cream) before driving via Weymouth to Portland for a great view of Chesil beach and the Olympic marina as it began to rain. Drove on to Portland Bill and the lighthouse, monolith and Pulpit Rock, where I took some nice pictures during a lull in precipitation. Very good day altogether, marred only slightly by dozy Dorset drivers.
Weather has been rather better than anticipated. Missed most of the heavy rain, and it remains warm.
Not an Australian poet, but Andrew on the beach at Winterton
A quiet few days in terms of getting out of the house, but of course the Olympics were coming to a climax and Dot was also – well – reaching the apogee of her house-cleaning programme preparatory to welcoming the Murrays when we return from Devon. The house now looks terrific and I am beginning to relax a bit. The weather has been good.
Have been out a bit, though. Yesterday, after our regular haircut, I rendezvoused with Lisa D’Onofrio and had a late lunchlet at Waterstone’s. As literature development officer back in 2003, she opened the door for me to take part in a poetry project which eventually turned into InPrint, and so changed my life, transforming me from a closet poet into a real one. She is a really good poet in her own right, but she is now living in Australia, her home country. We had a good 90 minutes of reminiscence and catching-up, following which I bought a new pair of trainers.
On Sunday Dot and I went to see Jessie after visiting the cemetery at North Walsham. It was actually a bit warm to sit in her summerhouse, so we moved indoors for scones and strawberries. She seems very well, apart from family worrries.
Last night I had my second game of chess this calendar year – a bizarre affair in the first round of the club knockout tournament. I got a clear advantage fairly early on and should have won, but I was too timid, blundered and then he was clearly winning. But he dropped a piece, and I got the advantage again, but couldn’t make anything of an extra pawn in a queen ending. So we have to play again in September. Not a classic. However, I picked up my prize for best game played at the club last season, which turned out to be a£25 John Lewis voucher – more than 100% larger than I thought it would be.
The Olympics has now ended, but it lingers on in the newspapers and on TV. After a brilliant opening ceremony, the closing ceremony was very poor musically (two songs from George Michael and Russell Brand singing a Beatles song – is that the best we can do?) though it did end with The Who, bringing a bit of belated class to the proceedings. Someone said that before the Olympics, everyone thought we were poor at sport but brilliant at music: now…
The Olympics are almost over, which means I shall be able to get back to a more ordered lifestyle, whatever that is. Keep popping upstairs to just miss crucial moments, and then sit on sofa for hours while nothing much happens. Watched open-water swimming yesterday, and now feel much more favourably towards the synchronised stuff. At least you know what’s going on, even if you don’t want to.
Some good moments, though. Mo Farah and Jessica Ennis, for instance. But I find myself really interested in people who do well but don’t win the gold, like the American Rupp, who finished second in the 10,000 metres and Yohan Blake in the 100m and 200m; and I’ve never felt so impressed by someone who finished last as by Andrew Osagie in the 800m, whose time would have won gold in any other Olympics.
Anyway. We now have a date for the work to be done in the living room – it will happen in the week after we return from holiday. The only thing that hasn’t been confirmed yet is the furniture removal on the Monday. But at least two people apart from me are pushing the insurance company to arrange it. The living room has remained watertight, and the sheet is still in place. Mr Bunn the Builder hasn’t given me a date yet for the roof work, but the timing there is not critical.
Various redecoration and replacement work is still in progress. The new curtains for the living room and the bedroom were put up yesterday and look excellent. Dot is now painting a wall of the cloakroom and I have put a couple of certificates up on the wall of the study. Meanwhile Andrew has been to stay with us.
Phil and I picked him up on Monday, which was his 64th birthday, and got him to Norwich in time for a birthday meal. Joy and Phil joined us, so there were five of us at Rushcutters for excellent food and a very efficient waitress, too. As we arrived back home for coffee, the Robinsons were driving down the road – returned to pick up their car after watching boxing at the Olympics – and so we invited them to join us, which rounded off the evening nicely. Andrew spent some time talking to Philip R towards the end…
Tuesday turned out fine and mild, so I took Andrew for a tour of the coast. We had a walk at Winterton (beach out, valley in), then some food in the cafe. We then drove up via Sea Palling and Hempstead (where Dot’s mum was born) to Happisburgh, where we parked on the new car park and went to the new loos. Andrew was a bit too tired to walk down the ramp to the beach, so we continued to Mundesley, where I drove to the cliff edge, then back to Stow windmill. Looked round the mill and climbed to the top, which Andrew quite enjoyed, I think.
On Wednesday it turned out that Andrew needed some new shoes, so we went to Clarke’s and bought him a pair for best and one for everyday. The iconic wherry Albion was moored at riverside, so we took a look. Philip called just before lunch with Andrew’s present. Following the remains of the roast chicken I had cooked the previous day, the two of us left for Coventry at 2.15pm in good weather. We called at Folksworth on the way to see our great-great-grandparents’ grave, and I noticed that the owners of an adjacent grave were probably our great-great-great-great-grandparents. The latter would have been born around 1760.
Straightforward journey, despite the lorry irritation factor. Called at Cambridge Services on the way back to find that they had deteriorated to such an extent, and so quickly, that the toilets were unusable. Sad. They started so well.
I have omitted Sunday, which was a full day. I dropped some stuff off at the Vicarage at about 11am, then picked up Phil at 11.45, packing all our instruments in the car with him and Dot. Quite a tight fit. We then proceeded to Potter Heigham, where we embarked on a church boat trip (six boats) to St Benet’s Abbey. I was a bit worried about sinking, as we had the massive Ian in our boat, but it turned out all right, once he had managed to board it. Sadly conditions at St Benet’s Abbey were such that he (wisely) didn’t try to make it to the field where the annual service was taking place and remained in the boat. There was torrential rain just after we arrived, but by the time those of us who could get out of the boat did so, it had slackened off, and there was only the occasional drop during the service itself, at which the Bishop preached (very well, as always). Afterwards we made a quick getaway and had a really nice sail back to Potter Heigham in sunshine and sudden warmth.
Dot needed a cup of teat at Potter Heigham, and so we crossed the bridge and found a pub at which there were only to good things: the tea and the barmaid. No ambience to speak of, and a noisy crowd of young men buying lots of lager. But the barmaid was pleasant and intelligent, so that was all good.
Potter Heigham to Lowestoft took longer than I thought it would, but we arrived at the Seagull in good time to rehearse our songs, and the evening went well. I was particularly pleased with our second set of two, ending on my new song, Feel Like I’m Falling Apart, which I like a lot. And if I don’t who else is going to? (Well, Andrew said he liked it when I played it to him on CD.) In the absence of Ian Fosten, Ivor compered very well indeed, ending with a poem incorporating all the acts. We got home about 10.30pm, having missed Usain Bolt’s first gold, but I think we all thought it was worth it. Which is quite remarkable, really.
