Quite a busy week, and warm too – until today, when it’s cooled off a bit. I’ve done a couple of longish walks – the first, 3.2 miles, was to the sorting office, then through the Rosary and Lion Wood, crossing Plumstead Road to Hilary Avenue, then through the alley into Mousehold and back by the usual route, taking in St James’ Hill and finishing along Riverside Road. Could call it the Mottram walk, because it passed Ralph Hale Mottram’s grave in the Rosary, and then his memorial skyline plaque on St James’ Hill. The second – 4 miles – started with a walk into the city to pay in the cheque for selling some of Dot’s shares, and continued down Tombland and past the Puppet Theatre, up Silver Road, along Mousehold Street on to Mousehold Heath (pause for ice cream), then across and into the Heartsease Estate to pick up pills from the chemist. Then along Witard Road and part way down Plumstead Road before I was picked up by Dot in her sports car, hopefully before she reached the area covered by the sociopathic speed camera van. That was yesterday. Feeling pretty tired today, with strange pains in my head. Shurely no connection?

Have managed to free padlock fastening long ladder to side wall. It had rusted in, but copious amounts of WD40 and persistent twisting eventually shifted it – just in time for neighbour to some round and say he didn’t need it yet. Job worth doing, though.

Cousin Eddie and family spent Tuesday afternoon with us. They are staying at Caister on Sea for a week. Grandchild small Edward has just turned three, and though he has lost his fantastic black curly hair (now browner and straighter), he is still delightful. Also present: Chris, her sister Maureen, Edward’s mother Jo (my Facebook friend) and her husband Stuart. Jo has gone from blonde to red: almost didn’t recognise her. Fun afternoon: should have invited them for meal, but didn’t get my head round it quickly enough – partly because we were out in the evening at the parish agm, which included a scrumptious meal prepared by Karen Wimhurt and friends, a certain amount of wine and some entertainment from a Congolese gospel choir. Again, a really enjoyable time.

The following evening we were out again, walking up to the Playhouse to see The Caretaker, by Harold Pinter. Splendidly acted: most rewarding. Met my “agent”, Tony Cooper, who introduced me to a potential stand-up comic who he said I might be able to provide material for. Left him my e-mail address and phone number, but am not convinced the PS-U was on the same wavelength. We’ll see. At least the author whose book I’m editing is happy with what I’ve done; so I will forge ahead with that.

Have just spent a couple of hours playing chess against my nephew Joe, with less than optimal results. Good practice, though. Would now be preparing for weekend trip to London to see the the Coomes, but astonishingly, and in completely unprecedented manner, it has had to be called off. This time very sadly too, as David has to travel north to visit his father, who is in a bad way, having fallen over recently. He has had to go into hospital, and the prognosis is not very good.