This is Dot (right, if you’ve not been following so far) with our friend Stephanie, with whom we lunched at Cafe Rouge last Tuesday, when the weather was quite reasonable – as it was right up to last night. Today is pretty appalling – very wet indeed and by no means warm. Such changeability is all very English: maybe I should warn my cousin’s daughter Jeanette, who has just told me she and her husband are moving to Cornwall from South Africa. On the plus side, Cornwall is probably safer. Sandy, my Cape Town-based cousin (other side of the family), is installing an electric fence after recent violence not far from her house. She is also installing a swimming pool, though. I am hoping the pool is not too near the fence.
In the evening on Friday – catching the threads of my last post – Dot and I went back to Wroxham Barns to buy an arch for the garden. I had originally thought it far too big, but when we measured it, and the space, it was clearly OK. Dot has much better powers of visualisation than I do. It is now safely installed, and the surrounding foliage has been given instructions to flow over it. On the way back we called at our friend Ed’s, where he and a couple of other friends were meeting to pray for me. Sat out in the garden, and I had a rare lager. The lager wasn’t that rare; it was me drinking it that was unusual. I only drink lager in hot weather and when I’m very thirsty. Pretty much.
Yesterday was warm and quiet: I spent most of it going through a whole pile of magazines and newspapers that I had been meaning to read, and Dot was writing her school inspection report. We took some time out to erect the arch. Or to be more accurate, she took time out to put the arch together, and I helped her stand it up and tighten the nuts. This morning we went to church, where I was leading the service, and Dot and Phil were playing the music. Pouring with rain, but we left feeling very good. So many kind friends.
Dot is now visiting her aunt at Hethersett, who has a problem with her arm and needs some help. Sacrificially, I stayed at home and watched Lewis Hamilton win the Monaco Grand Prix. Everything seems to be pushing me towards the operation on my prostate, but I haven’t finally decided. As I told a friend, it’s like sitting in one of those restaurants where you can’t choose between several things on the menu, and you end up with the one you were inclining to at the moment the waiter happened to arrive.
