Tag Archives: caroline

Walking the platform at Stratford

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Late in the day on the footbridge over the railway near Thorpe marshes.
Late in the day on the footbridge over the railway near Thorpe marshes.

On Thursday Dot and I drove out to Hempton, near Fakenham, where Caroline Gilfillan was launching her new book, Poet in Boots, at the Bell. This was, I thought, a pleasant country pub, but Dot was not too impressed. I was able to have a beer and go to the loo without any trouble: what more could one want?

The launch consisted of a few poems read by Caroline and some songs from her friends, one or two of which were very good. All round it was a very good evening, though we only really knew Caroline.

The next day was Oliver’s birthday, and we sent him messages, hoping that he got his card. We will be taking his presents at the end of this week. At the end of the day it was warm and sunny; so we went for a walk on Thorpe marshes, which was marred only by flying insects, one of which bit Dot on her eye, which gave her a bit of trouble for a couple of days. Otherwise it was an idyllic evening, with a couple of herons and calm water, and a grebe in the distance.

On Saturday we went to the Hendersons’ for an evening meal after getting rid of stuff from the garage. We expected it to be just the four of us, but their neighbours  from Lime Tree Road were there as well. Nice food, pleasant company. Sunday was rainy. After church, where we played the music in the absence of Phil, I did some church sitting for the Heritage Day while Dot went home to practise her violin, her time being cut short a bit by her neglecting to take the door key. As I had started the day by forgetting the church hall key, this rounded things off nicely. (All because we were using the courtesy car.) The church hall water leak problem is ongoing, but now there is a lighting problem. The vicar has apparently decided to leave everything practical in Howard’s hands, which is all very nice, but Howard has a job, a wife, two daughters and a grandchild.

After church Dot and I went to see Jessie, which was lovely as always.

Monday saw us heading for Wimbledon in rainy weather that turned quite chilly later. We stopped for refreshments at the Services on the M11, because I was feeling pretty tired, but then continued without incident across the Dartford bridge (which reminds me, I have to pay for the crossing – pause – done) and along the southern section of the M25 before following the satnav directions in towards Raynes Park, where we parked in Waitrose’s car park next to the station.

I was driving Dot down because of anticipated difficulty in finding the place, and was then due to get the train back while she met up with Barbara. This actually happened, but we had loads of time to spare; so we went into Starbuck’s for a snack and then wandered round a bit in the rain. Eventually I got an earlier train than intended and then a tube from Waterloo to Stratford, which turned out to be a bleaker station than I expected. So I persuaded a ticket lady to let me out and use the toilets in the Westfield centre, and then let me back in again. I then walked up and down the platform – it was getting pretty chilly – until the train arrived. I had a specified seat in first class, which turned out to be not available, but there were loads of others and I got a better one (single, with table).

Today was much better after a rainy start, and I went into the city to pay in some cheques, including one for me (from the PHS) that I’d found in my jacket pocket. Ran into some people looking for Dragon Hall in the wrong place, and then spoke to Ed Read, who told me he and Jenny were going to try and adopt. Made myself hot lunch with leftover toad in the hole and – to be honest – rather wasted the afternoon, listening to YouTube songs and eventually getting round to finishing this, just as I see Dot is about to arrive.

Ann and Jim meet Paul

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Ann ventures into the Yare, enticed by a dreadful compulsion
Ann ventures into the Yare, enticed by a dreadful compulsion

My cousin Ann and her husband Jim from Liverpool have been with us since Monday. They arrived at about 1pm, roughly ten hours before Dot got back from her successful P4C visit to Essex and Kent. I’ve been feeling pretty mediocre, but no problem in carrying on – not that we’ve done much. They seem very happy to do a minimal amount, but perhaps that’s not surprising , as they’re 75 and 87 respectively. Suits me! I have booked a urology consultation at Cromer in November.

On Tuesday we went round to see Paul, but he was out; so we drove on to Earlham Park, where we had an ice cream after sitting by the river bank. Ann actually paddled in the Yare  for a while, as she can’t resist water, apparently. The situation would have been idyllic had it not been for a number of rather ugly dogs and their owners frolicking in the vicinity.

Later I walked down to the Rivergarden pub at Thorpe for the launch of Trevor Nuthall’s new history of Thorpe St Andrew. He gave a nice talk, and the book turns out to have a lot of information on Thorpe Hall, a former Paston seat – which is what I had hoped. Also present were EDP photographer Denise Bradley, unbelievably a grandmother now, and Nick Williams from St Peter Hungate. Among others.

On Wednesday all four of us walked up to the Castle, hoping to see the Birds exhibition, only to discover that it had just finished. So we looked round generally, had a light lunch and bumped into Caroline and her two brothers. Some drama as a woman collapsed in the cafe. I overheard a member of staff observe that the person dealing with it had two speeds: stop and slow. It did seem to be a long time before she was dealt with.

Dot left early to do some work at home, and I took Ann and Jim round the pretty way over the Julian Bridge – “pretty” being a totally inapt description of the approaches to it, which are still in a disgusting state.

Yesterday we did manage to find Paul in – I had phoned to fix an appointment the day before, but he didn’t respond to our ringing the bell and knocking until I phoned him from outside, and he still claimed not to be able to see us from the bedroom window. However, once he came down we had a good chat for about 45 minutes; so it was worth while.

Earlier we had gone with Dot to Whitlingham, where we had a short walk and then a snack from the cafe. It was very hot again, but once more the setting was spoiled by a huge number of dogs, many of them just as ugly as the ones at Earlham.  Dot walked part of the way home as part of her exercise, and the rest of us continued to Paul’s.

In the evening we went to Oaklands for a carvery, which was a bit of a curate’s egg. Possibly 5pm is not a good time to catch the food right. Coincidentally (or not) I had diarrhoea during the evening, but that could have been a plum that had gone off. I also wrote most of my sermon for Sunday.

Today I went for a blood test, and experienced a world record, in that it was early. That just never happens. Dot then went to give Sam and Jessica Vesey some P4C experience as part of their home schooling: I was due to go to the UEA with Rob, but Karen was unwell; so it was postponed. Instead I took Ann and Jim for a ride on the route they will have to take to reach the A11 tomorrow and then dropped them in the city. They still have not found their way home. Dot is in the city with Anne. I am due to go to Halesworth this evening to read some poetry.

New car in the post

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Bird-watching on Cley beach, looking over the marshes.
Bird-watching on Cley beach, looking over the marshes.

Seems a long time ago since I posted something. Let me see, what has happened? Oh yes, I have become 69. I am in my 70th year. Three score years and ten on the horizon. I suppose getting this far has been good, but it all went by so quickly, and the more it went by, the quicker it went.

So I was feeling a bit down on my birthday, which was last Saturday, as I recall. Maybe this was partly because the previous four years I had been on holiday when my birthday came round: this one seemed strangely flat. That was until I bought a new car.

We called in at the garage on the way to the North Norfolk coast for a late afternoon visit, and things soon got out of hand. We took a Mazda2 for a test drive – both of us had a go, and it seemed really nice, light and nippy. We sat down to talk to the salesman/general manager, who we know quite well, and before we knew what we were doing we had ordered one.

Things I forgot to check: whether I could get my guitar in the boot. Bit worried too about how I’ll cope with the much smaller engine and loss of Sport boost, but on the plus side it’s much cheaper to tax and insure, and it uses far less fuel.

Afterwards I was driven to Holt by my wife and we had tea and cake there before moving on to Cley, where we visited the beach and then the Three Swallows before ending up at the church for a performance of Caroline’s Pepys extravaganza, which was brilliant and worthy of being seen by many more people. She seemed pleased to see us. The rest of the audience were very weird, so we fitted right in. One of them had bought a dining table for £8500, apparently. I didn’t mention the car.

The next day I had to preach at St Luke’s. Happily Karen was leading the service and Steve was the worship band, so I felt quite at home, and the talk (on No condemnation) went OK, despite a large man on the front row who tried to join in. He was also in the front row at a concert there in the afternoon to raise money for Carrie’s work, and kept trying to draw attention to himself. He tried to engage me in conversation in the interval, but I was giving nothing away (we had already had a brief discussion after the service, where I obstinately refused to agree with anything he said). He brings out the worst in me.

There was a fierce rainstorm during the concert, and water started to get in, but they soldiered on. Very enjoyable, actually, especially Dvorak’s New World symphony. Dot and I escaped by the side door afterwards to avoid encountering Mr Big in the foyer. Also Dot was anxious to get home to continue with a mammoth clean-up that has been going on all week. The garden is now stunning and the kitchen repainted, rearranged and generally just right for a party, should one happen to occur.

Coincidentally, Chrissy has arrived in the country and will be joining us on Wednesday with David and the children. Oliver has a new phone and texts us quite a lot, which is nice. We also get more of an idea what’s going on.

My birthday meal was on Friday evening. We went to Cafe Rouge, and the meal included a free bottle of champagne, as it was for my birthday. This kind of generosity might help to explain why the place is closing down shortly – something we learnt by chance, overhearing a conversation while we were there. Our waitress, who was an opera singer, said that the group was cutting back, which is a pity, because Cafe Rouge in Exchange Street has a very particular kind of charm that I’m sure you don’t get in other Cafes Rouges.

Earlier we’d popped out to Mundesley to see Lucy, who amazingly was able to let us have the ISBN number for the Oxnead book. She seemed quite well, and her house looked very nice. Not sure what’s going on there. The cat and rabbit look innocent.

On Wednesday last week we went to Muspole Street to pick up my other birthday present, which is a picture by Martin Laurance that I’d expressed an interest in and which suddenly became available. Nothing too expansive or expensive, but it looks good on the newly painted wall with the other two of his that we have. I also called in to see Nick Gorvin about printing the Oxnead book. He gave me quite a reasonable quote.

Going way back, a week ago as I write we were at Judy’s enjoying cake and compline, but without the compline, because no-one had prepared it. Lovely evening though, including the Archers, who took us.

Back to today: I’ve been in the city paying in cheques. Weather very warm. On the way back I looked at David Holgate’s carving of Julian on the Cathedral, which is impressive. He has just died, and his funeral is this week. I have been in touch with his assistant, Philippa, who I know a bit. Also bumped into Margaret and Martin on the way home and had quite a long chat about his worries concerning Mairead’s house, which he fears may be sold for bedsits. We agreed that this must not happen, but had no idea how to prevent it.

Oh yes, there was a World Cup Final. Germany won. Nice goal.

Children and poetry highlights of the week

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Dot walking near Worstead
Dot walking near Worstead

An exciting week, with two highlights: first, Oliver and Amy (that’s one), and second, the Suffolk Poetry Festival.

On Wednesday we headed for Caddington to collect the children for a short half-term stay with us: quite a while since they’ve been here on their own. The weather over the three days wasn’t ideal, but we had a great time around the house; so it didn’t matter. Table tennis came into its own, as did several other games, most of them invented by Amy. Dot even managed to fit in a blood test (before we went on the Wednesday) and an ECG (on the Wednesday afternoon).

We returned them on the Friday, managing to get them home by 1pm: they had a playdate with Chloe and Thomas in the afternoon. It’s all go for them too. Road works outside Luton are getting difficult, and as a result we found two new ways home: the first, on Wednesday, up the M1, along the A421, A1 and A428, joining the A14 at Cambridge – further but still quite quick; the second was a little detour round Stockwood Park, approaching the bedevilled roundabout from the less congested side. Much less congested, actually.

We had a slight alarm on the Tuesday, when after a huge downpour that lasted most of the morning we ended the day by finding water under the record player unit – not much, but it would have filled a bowl or two. Bit of a mystery: the walls were dry, the ceiling was dry, it was nowhere near the window, and we could only conclude that water had come down the chimney and through a gap where the floor joins the wall.

Unless it happens again, I shall treat it as a freak event and do nothing. I should imagine finding the gap and fixing it (if that is the problem) might be quite costly.

Earlier that day I had been to a PHS Trustees’ meeting at Mundesley. It was still raining hard, but not as bad as in the morning. I picked up Rob and gave him a lift. Lucy was not so good and told us that her cancer had returned. She will be having new treatment in a couple of months, but is soldiering on for now.

On Saturday we went to the Suffolk Poetry Festival in Stowmarket – chosen, I guess, for its easy access. Ho, ho. I was part of a small group from the Seagull poetry event, and I got to read three poems, plus a pentaptych tanka with Dot. This cost us £50, which represented £25 each entry to afternoon and evening of the festival.

I wasn’t over the moon about the money, but in fact I really enjoyed the day, partly because Caroline Gilfillan was one of the featured readers in the evening, and we were able to chat quite a lot. Other featured readers were Kate Foley (superb) and Luke Wright (totally off the wall and a great entertainer), but some of the other readers were good too. The weather was reasonable, and the journey no problem, though it took about an hour (roughly 40 miles). Dot was complimented on her reading and her jacket.

Yesterday afternoon Dot and and I went to Open Studios in Muspole Street, calling in briefly at St Peter Hungate first, as it was open. Saw Sophie Cabot, one of the trustees and a reader at the Julian Week. At Muspole Street we saw Martin Laurance, Lucy Edwards, Martin Mitchell and a couple of others artists – one printer and one jeweller. A warm day and a pleasant walk.

Today I’ve been to the supermarket, done a bit of catching up (but more to be done), then attended a Chronicle meeting at Fakenham, which left me with much more work toward the new Oxnead book and upcoming performance. I am about to have my hair cut, and then we will have a meal with Angela and Rodney at Prezzos to discuss A Ethel. Well, someone has to do it.

Gentleman rose grower Peter Beales dies

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Peter Beales and his sister Rosie earlier on in his career

Another busy week, despite the snow restricting our movements. Now, at last, the white stuff has gone and been replaced by rainy but much warmer weather. Today is around 10C or more and Dot was “sweltered” on returning from a brief foray to buy a frame for a photo of Ethel (for her birthday later this week, when she is 89, and not 90, whatever she says).

It is a week, however, that will be remembered mainly for the death of Peter Beales, rose grower supreme, Dot’s cousin and all-round gentleman. He succumbed to pneumonia on Saturday afternoon (26 Jan), while Norwich City were going out of the F A Cup to non-League Luton Town. It is four months since his wife died. A sad loss, and a shattering blow to his children, Richard and Amanda.

We received the news from Amanda in the evening. Earlier we had been at Jessie’s after visiting the cemetery (Dot’s Mum’s birthday is also this week). While there we listened to the Norwich City debacle on radio. Later Dot was in deep telephonic conversation with Angela about how to break the news about Peter to Ethel, but in the event she took it without flinching. We visited her yesterday after a drop-in at the supermarket, and she was in good form.

Last Wednesday, with plenty of snow still on the ground, I met Elizabeth McDonald at the Cathedral Refectory to discuss her contribution to the Paston event at Dragon Hall in May. She’s doing a PhD on Books the Pastons Read,  and so will fit in well with the literary theme. Later I drove up to the doctor’s in Dot’s car (because she was using mine) and almost got it stuck outside the house, such is the unsuitability of rear-wheel drive to snowy conditions. Strangely when I returned it shot up the hill with no trouble.

I had had to pick up pills from the chemist as well as call in to the doctor’s to register myself for making online appointments – the latter prompted by my having to cancel Thursday’s appointment, when I accompanied Rob to the Norfolk Record Office in place of the injured Lucy.  But I leap ahead. Also on the Wednesday I went to a meeting of the King Street Cultural Quarter, with whom we’re collaborating slightly on Dragon Hall. Quite amusing to witness the same kind of meeting the PHS has, but without the need to get involved. They are in fact in a worse state following the sudden resignation of their chairman and the reluctance of anyone to take over.

The meeting at the NRO next day was far more civilised – although Dr John Alban, the curator with whom we have been dealing, is also stepping down (retiring) at the end of March. We managed to get a clearish picture of what we’re doing, and it all seems very promising. The result should be a three-month exhibition on the Pastons at NRO starting in mid-October, with some talks by prominent people in the Paston world. Rob gave me a lift, and afterwards we called in at the ABC Wharf in King Street to view the venue for a possible photo exhibition. I think it can best be described as esoteric: a massive warehouse-type  space overlooking the river. Impressive but very, very cold.

Caroline with her book and the singer

After  church on Sunday, where the improved weather attracted a single-figure congregation, Dot and I drove to Fakenham for the launch of Caroline Gilfillan’s new poetry book, Pepys. As you might guess, it is all about the famous diarist, and part of the launch consisted of Caroline, in period costume together with three friends, performing some of the poems, excerpts from the diaries and a couple of songs. On approaching the house we encountered Rob and Penny, with whom we enjoyed the afternoon. Fortuitous, as we knew no-one else except Caroline. Obviously we bought the book. And ate the food.

Delicious remains

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Blossom in the Rosary

Caroline’s poetry book launch party at Fakenham on Monday turned out to be brilliant, with crowds of people sardined into her terraced house, and just enough room for her and her friend Dee to punctuate the afternoon with songs and poetry. It was a cold, windy day, so inside was a good place to be. At first we knew no-one but Caroline, but later Annette and Mike turned up, plus Martin Laurance and Geoffrey Lefever, another artist from Bally. Also Kay Riggs, one of the Paston poets. Met quite a few new people, and renewed acquaintance with Alex Gilfillan, who used to be a subs’ runner at the Eastern Daily Press about the same time as David. She is also the daughter of Susan Lee (a former sub) and a niece of Caroline. She now has a husband and two young girls. Good to see her again.

Interesting week food-wise. As well as some lovely sweet items at Caroline’s, we have also benefited from the delicious remains of the church Sunday lunch at our Tuesday Group evening, and braved an adventurous paella at a friend’s birthday meal yesterday. The adventure consisted largely in deciding how much of the chicken to eat, as it was clearly undercooked, but there was also the added challenge of sitting down at the table, as the house was beyond description: to use the word cluttered would be an understatement of huge proportions. Six of us managed to get near enough to the table to eat, and the sweet was actually good, but there was not a lot of hanging around afterwards. Dot offered to wash up, but it became clear that there was actually nowhere to put anything. Felt like ordering a skip and depositing the entire contents of the house into it. Make that several skips.

At the other extreme, this morning we called on my aunt Josephine in her immaculate Cringleford bungalow and had some lovely scones and biscuits. Very civilised. Spent a long time talking. Tomorrow we are going to Delia’s Restaurant with the Robinsons to celebrate Anne’s birthday, and on Saturday we are having friends round here. From the sublime to the very ordinary, in a few minutes we are having fish fingers. Earlier we had our hair cut and tomorrow we shall have what to do after firing – no, wait, that’s a poem by Henry Reed. Earlier still Dot and I played a round of pitch and putt on Mousehold and both broke 100. This may not seem much of an achievement, but it is a long time since we played. We were pretty evenly matched. Just before that we went and voted (differently). I changed my mind as I approached the polling station, and still probably got it wrong.

Anyway, the more important selection story of the week was Spurs qualifying for the Champions League by finishing fourth in the Premiership, beating Manchester City 1-0 away to do so. So a good season for both Spurs and Norwich, who seem to mirror each other’s ups and downs surprisingly often. Meanwhile the bank cleared a large cheque just in time for me to pay my credit card bill, which was nice. Getting on well with the book editing, though I didn’t manage to fit any in today. Planning to give it a real go tomorrow.

11 June 2007

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As it turned out, there was also a piece on the EDP Books page last week about my poetry prize, but I hadn’t spotted it until someone pointed it out. A bit overkill all in all, but I can hardly complain – though this one featured yet another photo of me I’d never seen before.

The image above was created by Tonia Jillings, one of our InPrint group, from a poem I’d done in response to a bigger work of hers. Think it looks rather fine, really.

We’ve just had a meeting of InPrint concerned mostly with preparations for Welborne, but also talking about the future – and it went much better than I thought it might. Perhaps that’s because I was acting as secretary and therefore didn’t know what was going on… The weather forecast for Welborne at the moment is disastrous – heavy rain – but as the BBC have never yet got a five-day forecast right, I’m pretty optimistic.

One or two other things. I may have done my last bit of NVQ assessing. We had a meeting on Friday at which it turned out – unsurprisingly – that Archant were thinking of switching to the NCTJ under a new system. All a bit vague, but at present no candidates to be assessed. End of an era?

The day before I went to a reading by Caroline Wood – one of the founder-members of InPrint – from her first novel, Noah Quince. The reading was in the Millennium Library, and was quite packed. Another InPrint founder-member, Marilyn Jeffries, was there and so was Peter Bright, former EN sub-editor who is a good guy. Had quite a long chat, went home and ordered the book on Amazon, together with poetry by Rita Anne Higgins, the judge in the Fish poetry competition. By sheer chance I have her reading one of her poems on a poetry CD I was given, and I’m delighted to say I really like it. Very Irish and witty.

At the weekend Dot and I dropped in on my nephew and his wife and showed them some of our pictures of Florida – seems like a lifetime ago. Very pleasant evening which included tea and cake.

Today Dot has been to Watton on a PSCL schools visit, and she should be back shortly.