Tag Archives: chronicle

Losing track of time

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Dot, Sue and Fred on the beach near Beeston
Dot, Sue and Fred on the beach near Beeston

An exceptionally busy week goes by, and the busyness continues. This afternoon I head for Mundesley for a Paston trustees’ meeting, and tomorrow I drive to Coventry to visit Andrew. Fortunately my health continues to improve. But back to the past…

Tuesday last week saw another Archant coffee morning, this one with the addition of Maryta, plus Brian Caldecott and Tricia. Clearly an EDP subs’ takeover is in the offing. Good to see Brian, who looked well although he isn’t (he has rheumatoid arthritis).

Saw Maryta again the next day, when the Hendersons took us on a North Norfolk trip, starting with a longish dog walk at Felbrigg Hall, where we saw frogs mating and enjoyed a light lunch, continuing at Beacon Hill (Roman Camp), where they lost the dog – sadly not permanently; it returned to Dot and me while they were off down the ravine looking for it – and on to Blakeney, where we had a shorter walk and then an excellent afternoon tea at the Blakeney Hotel, overlooking the marshes. Discovered to our surprise that the Hendersons had not been to Blakeney before: that’s what comes of living south of Norwich. Weather fine, with a chilly wind.

On Thursday Dot had a violin lesson with a friend from the orchestra and completely lost track of time, so that I had to ring her and remind her to come home and see Sam, Lucy and Elliott, who had dropped in during a short visit to Norwich. Elliott very smiley and crawly; Sam less so.

On Friday we were off to the north coast again, this time to visit Fred and Sue at Beeston Regis. We visited Cookie’s at Malthouse and the called at the Cley Wildlife centre, which has been much improved, despite being pretty good to start with. Our neighbours the Norfolk Wildlife Trust can’t be short of money. From the centre the marshes looked much more open; most of the trees had disappeared following the tidal surge.

On the way back to Beeston we stopped at Sheringham, where I had a delicious gooseberry ice cream and we watched a girl called Karen lovingly construct a message in stone on the beach to her boyfriend Len (we’re making several assumptions here). Back at Beeston we took a stroll along the beach, where I managed to lose the eyepiece to my binoculars. Again, a lovely dry day, but with a chilly wind in the evening. It even rained on our way home, but that was probably very localised.

On Saturday Dot spent most of the day (if not all of it) preparing for the visit of Chronicle and spouses (Rob, Penny, James, Ann) for an evening meal. This was supposed to include a discussion about the progress were were making on the next Chronicle project, but we had such an interesting discussion on other matters (some theological) that we never got to that. I will raise it today when I see Rob for lunch.

Yesterday I preached a bit, and Eleanor led a Holy Communion in her lovely understated way. Vicky came, as did Ruth and Steve, so we had four children in the congregation. We have discovered that the new vicar is gay, or if not exactly gay, unnecessarily happy. In the afternoon Richard came round with the delightful Maddy and Darcy, and we had an Easter egg hunt followed by other excitement and a certain amount of food. Norwich scored a last-minute goal to beat Bolton, which meant Dot was pretty happy too.

A series of tanka I wrote for Lent has been accepted for inclusion in the spring edition of the Atlas Poetica, published in America. Surprised and delighted.

Oliver hits a dozen

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When I dropped in at St Peter Hungate yesterday – it was open as part of the annual Heritage celebrations – someone asked if it was a special day, since people seemed to be celebrating. I quickly pointed out that it was my grandson’s birthday, than which you can hardly get more special. Oliver is 12, and a student of Sir Henry Floyd Grammar School at Aylesbury. We spoke to him on Facetime this evening. He seems to be having a good time. Will make further checks tomorrow.

Hungate had an exhibition about the first world war which was small enough to be both accessible and moving.  It also had trustee Carol Hardman, who turned out to be a friend of Rob Knee’s and a bit of an enthusiast. So that was good.

I had dropped in after dropping out of Elizabeth McDonald’s Paston lecture at the Maid’s Head, mainly because I couldn’t hear it and partly because I’d heard it before. I dropped back in at the end and chatted to her. The hotel had not served her well by putting her in a room that was too small for the impressive turnout and not providing her with a microphone. The audience drifted into the vestibule and showed commendable persistence in sticking with it.

In a slightly less popular event, we held our monthly cake and compline with the Archers, Vicky and Judy at Number 22. We also invited Vicky Lenton, but that was a mistake. Those e-mail addresses can get you into an awful lot of trouble. I could have invited someone I hardly know who actually turned up, for instance. As it was the usual suspects ate some cake that Dot had baked and pronounced it very good.

Going back in time, last Sunday saw us at St Augustine’s, with me leading the service and Dot doing the intercessions. Seemed a long time since we’d been there. As usual the congregation doubled the moment the clock struck 11. In the evening Dot and I went to the Seagull to hear James Knox Whittet and others. I read four poems, and Dot got into conversation with Anne KW, telling her about Oxnead. As a result I invited them, but they were unable to come. However James wants to be involved with Chronicle, so that’s all good.

On Monday we had the usual poor turnout at the DCC meeting, with only Nicholas, Howard, Ian, Dot and I attending. I gave a financial report: a crucial issue s was left unresolved because of the small turnout, but there you go. Nicholas’ departure date is still up in the air, and the strain may be telling.

For some reason I can’t remember I had agreed to play chess on Tuesday, taking part in what is termed a 100-board match, but what is really ten ten-board rapid matches, in which a combined force of Norwich Dons and Broadland swamped a Norfolk and Norwich team at Langley Prep School, winning 61½-38½. I contributed a measly four points to our total, playing by far my best game in the first round against a strong junior and then gradually deteriorating in an interesting variety of ways. I am not really built for rapid chess, but at least they don’t grade it.

On Wednesday Chronicle had a dress rehearsal for Oxnead, and I reluctantly donned a long waistcoat and one or two other things. Painful. It emerged that Caroline is likely to be leaving to live in Cumbria – at least for a while – so the long-term future of the group hangs in the balance. On the plus side, James Knox Whittet may join us. But we need a woman. (Notice the restraint involved in my lack of comment there?)

Afterwards I went to see the doctor and as usual failed to communicate what exactly was wrong with me. Still, I am having numerous blood tests (or one blood test for numerous things) and may be referred to a urologist. I’m not sure that’s what’s required, but I can offer no alternative. My daily intake of Lansaprozole has been doubled, and I’m not sure about that either. On the plus side, my blood pressure is going in the right direction.

I am just back from an unsuccessful foray to the Guildhall to hear a talk on Norwich murderers. The organisers went one better than yesterday: this time it was full to capacity a quarter of an hour before it started. Planning a few additional murders, I went instead to Pull’s Ferry and saw the Watergate Room, which I thought was not normally open, but which is in fact open every weekend during summer. Interesting fact: the ferry closed in 1943; it was there because Bishop Bridge was originally open only to people visiting the Cathedral and its environs.

Meanwhile Dot has abandoned her cake-making to meet Sue Eagle in the city. Later we head for Lavenham with the Hendersons.

Cool – we’re in Ballater

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From the Crathie-Tomintoul road this afternoon
From the Crathie-Tomintoul road this afternoon

Here we are in Ballater, in a beautiful cottage near the town square, and it’s just stopped raining. It’s markedly cooler than it’s been for weeks in Norfolk, and we have the heating on, though the wood-burning stove remains unlit. We’ve just been to church, which is roughly two minutes away, and had an early lunch: pie and sausage roll from the bakery.

We arrived yesterday at around 3.15pm after filling up at the petrol station, and the owner of the cottage – a youngish woman called Sue – was here to meet us. She was very pleasant and was clearly keen not to intrude. She left us a bottle of nice merlot and some chocolate biscuits. The cottage is pretty near perfect, except for the lack of a tumble drier. I suspect it has been completely refurbished very recently. We have the downstairs bedroom, with an en suite bath and shower. The Eagles will be upstairs, which is only right.

Last night we bought some food from the usual place and visited the river, which apparently burst its banks last week. The woman in the bakery said she had never seen it so “angry”. Some sandbanks are still lying around, and the river is quite high, but there are no longer any sheep being washed down to the sea. We booked meal at La Mangiatoia for tonight and failed to book one at the Glen Lui for Monday, when it is “residents only”. Then we bought some Indian from the takeaway directly opposite, which was fine but far too much.

TV reception is good, and so is WiFi. We watched Match of the Day (or most of it) in bed and caught up with Norwich this morning on iPlayer (Norwich 3 Watford 0).

The journey was mixed. The first part, from Norwich to Lockerbie (Annandale Water) was pretty awful. We followed our new satnav and took the direct route via the A17 and the A1 for a change. Never again. The A17 was funereal, averaging around 40mph and too many cars to make overtaking feasible. The A1 was even worse, continually stop-start until we took the M18 to avoid  a nervous breakdown, stopped at services and came back on the M62, rejoining the A1 further up, where it was much clearer.

However, we then made the mistake of acting on advice from someone who recommended an east-west route through Bedales, Leyburn and Hawes. Beautiful road, but very twisty and therefore slow. Eventually we hit the M6 near Kendal and stopped for petrol at the Westmorland services. After this the going was very easy, but the whole journey still took us nine hours, and we had stopped for only about an hour in all. Distance: 342 miles. Our one lengthy stop was for lunch at The Chestnuts – favourite stop on the A17 for the Evetts and the Towns. We will probably never go there again, but it was very nice.

Annandale Water services: excellent room, with balcony and view of the lake. Pleasant receptionist. Poor restaurant facilities: McDonalds or Costa. We chose the latter, and also had breakfast there the next morning, me with sandwiches and fruit from Smiths, Dot with a croissant. the journey from there was pretty easy, though the A9 was unexpectedly slow. We stopped at Stirling services and then were held up by road works approaching Perth.

We had a sandwich by the Cairnwell chairlift and then proceeded through rain to Ballater, where it was much brighter.

I should mention a couple of events before we left. On Wednesday I had a “dress” rehearsal of Chronicle at Rob’s, which seemed to go quite well. Caroline tried on her new dress, made by Penelope, which can be seen on the Paston Heritage Society Facebook page.

On Thursday, with Dot in London for the day with Anne, I checked in at the printer to approve a dust jacket for the Chronicle book and (later) picked up Dot’s pills. In the afternoon there was a meeting at Mundesley of the PHS trustees, where I got rather annoyed with Lucy because her drive was so appalling and I was afraid I might have damaged the car.  I hadn’t (as far as I know), but the drive was far worse than it was last time. Not much to report from the meeting, but I managed to write the minutes when I got home.

 

Table tennis triumph

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Dot in the woods at Felbrigg
Dot in the woods at Felbrigg

Busy day last Thursday: so busy that Dot got confused and ended up doing a presentation at Little Plumstead school instead of coming to the Paston members’ meeting at Bacton, where Susan Curran spoke rather well and then almost had a fight with Lucy about the Pastons’ reputation and origins.

Earlier we had a Chronicle meeting at Rob’s house, preparing the Oxnead event and discussing various other things, including the book. It seems I will be wearing some kind of costume. I may have to leave the country. Afterwards Rob and Penny entertained me to tea, which meant I was pretty full when faced with the fabled Paston refreshments.

Still, at least we all got there, despite signs declaring the Bacton road closed (it wasn’t). Apparently removing road signs afterwards isn’t included in the contract for repairing a road. Not many people at the talk, but a nice evening.

Dot and I missed an extraordinary meeting of the PCC that discussed the parish profile (probably a good thing), but I made some comments beforehand that Howard passed on. I called on him the next day and bumped into Beth, who is looking very well.

On the same day we emerged triumphant in our table tennis encounter with the Robinsons, despite not having practised. It was interspersed with lasagne and a couple of world cup quarter-finals, both of which were pretty dire. Philip went to sleep at one point.

Saturday and Sunday were quiet, apart from a lively Communion service and afters at church. Elvira brought a cake, and there was some jamming with Carrie (using my guitar), Dot and a guy from the farm, who plays the piano by ear.

Today, which has been muggy, Dot visited a couple of schools and continued the task she started yesterday: painting the kitchen. She claims to like doing it; so I let her do it (as if I had a choice). It all makes me feel uneasy, though.

Have had a look at Godfrey Sayers’ book and made him an offer. Haven’t heard from him; so it was probably ill-judged.

The other extreme

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The Cobbler (Ben Arthur) seen from the train between Oban and Glasgow. Dot and I climbed it on our honeymoon.
The Cobbler (Ben Arthur) seen from the train between Oban and Glasgow. Dot and I climbed it on our honeymoon.

After walking over 30 miles last week, I have gone to the other extreme this week and not achieved more than about five so far – though this could increase marginally this weekend, because the Coomes are coming to visit. I have spent a great deal of time at my desk, but achieved a surprising amount.

The Chronicle script and book are both well progressed, and I’ve written a piece for Parish Pump as well as a few poems. Other than that, I’ve attended a PCC meeting, taken the MX5 in for servicing and MOT(at ten years old, it’s now too ancient to be covered by Mazda’s breakdown service) and paid the papers.

What else has happened? Oh yes, a “disgraced” England have been knocked out of the World Cup. Who could have seen that coming? Actually, they looked considerably better than they have in recent years, but still couldn’t take their scoring chances. Very similar to Norwich City, really.

It’s been pretty much a grey week, but today the sun is out; so we’re hopeful for a bit of summer. I saw the doctor yesterday: he’s still worried about my blood pressure. He’s not at all interested in the things I’m worried about, but that’s doctors for you. I felt more healthy in Iona than I do here. Perhaps I’ll go back.

Beginning of the end of an era

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The sea encroaching at Salthouse
The sea encroaching at Salthouse

Significant week in the history of St Augustine’s.  We had our annual meeting on Tuesday – excellent food from Karen & Co as usual – and a good talk from visitor Keith Elliott, representing Inclusive Church, which the parish is thinking of joining. Then Nicholas dropped his bombshell – he and his family are leaving, and going to Aspen, Colorado, some time in the summer.

Actually, we already knew this, but most of the people present didn’t, and there was a bit of a stunned silence, followed by a few nice things being said. Obviously things will be difficult in the interregnum, but I think it’s the right move for him.

Mr Elliott was staying the night with us. I’d already walked him up to the Cathedral in the afternoon, and he was a considerate guest. We also felt we were on his wavelength. The next morning Nicholas came round to have a chat with him, and after a walk on his own Keith joined us for a cold lunch, during which the man came to service the burglar alarm. Not great timing, but he was very pleasant, and things went smoothly.

In the afternoon Rob and Caroline came round for a Chronicle read-through and discussion. I have a bit of reorganisation to do on the Oxnead script, as well as some design work on the forthcoming book. Time marches on: I’m a bit worried that it won’t get done in time, but I expect it will.

On Thursday evening we went to Claire’s for dinner after a day of wondering whether she’d remembered or not: she ignored an e-mail and didn’t answer her phone, but in fact all was well and we had an excellent meal.

All week a Toys R Us trolley had been languishing on the pavement outside, and we’d been a bit worried it might end up being pushed into our car, or someone else’s. Eventually I worked up the energy to push it through the city and back to its base. It was heavy and had a bit of a mind of its own (especially downhill), but I took it up Prince of Wales Road, Queen Street, St Andrew’s and down Westwick Street and left it outside the shop. On the way back I spoke to a Big Issue seller who had been a trolley boy in Hamilton, outside Glasgow, and used to fetch back trolleys that customers had taken home. That’s what we need here.  He was against independence but wasn’t allowed to vote because he didn’t live in Scotland.

In the evening Linda cancelled our hair appointment again, and we are rescheduled for next Wednesday. Tonight we were due to have Fred and Sue to stay before the CNS reunion event tomorrow, but they have cancelled too for family reasons, though they’re hoping to come down tomorrow morning. This morning Maryta and Paul called in for coffee while looking at two more houses, their original vendor having created problems. They have the kind of schedule  that makes our hectic ones seem positively sedentary.

Garage gives up ghost

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Hickling Broad recently
Hickling Broad recently

Well, I did make it to Caddington, and very glad I did. We actually went down on the Saturday morning and stayed till teatime, after the children had been picked up by Vicky. Had time for a good chat with both Oliver and Amy, and Oliver showed me what Minecraft was all about. I now sort of understand it. David showed me how to use Evernote, which is more exciting than it sounds.

Dot drove both ways because I still wasn’t feeling good. In fact I’m still not feeling good. I think I’m getting over it and then I suddenly feel quite ill, with a lot of pressure in my abdomen and feeling shaky. Then I have crackling in my head. Paracetamol is quite good. If I weren’t going to see the doctor next Monday, I would probably have been in for an emergency appointment by now.

I’ve been well enough to carry on with most things, though. On Sunday I played guitar and led the prayers. On Monday we had our hair cut, after Dot had taken my glasses into Boots and got a new screw fitted (they fell apart in church on Sunday). And after we’d taken three pictures to be framed and returned the projector to the church hall so that Stuart could use it. On Tuesday I didn’t do much either.

Yesterday Dot and I went to the cinema at midday and saw The Monuments Men, about saving stolen art from the Nazis. Very good, but not brilliant. I would like to have seen Kristin Scott Thomas in the Cate Blanchett role, but then I like to see Kristin Scott Thomas in anything. The minor roles were particularly well played, and our use of the Odeon card enabled us to get two free tickets!

Arriving back from Morrisons in the rain on Tuesday, I opened the garage door, and it convulsed and spewed out some nasty black, oily tubing. I managed to feed it back into the hole it came out of – at the cost of getting very oily hands. Internet research revealed that attempting to mend garage doors can result in death or serious injury (I exaggerate slightly), so I contacted a local firm recommended by Colin Wright. A guy came this morning, and we have ordered a new door, which should be with us by next week. Meanwhile, I can open the current door and get the car out, if I’m very careful.

Now I have to find a plumber to fix the tank in the loft.

Kay has “resigned” from Chronicle – probably temporarily – for personal reasons, and Dot will probably be doing some reading and maybe violin-playing for our next performance. Not till September, probably, when we’re booked into Oxnead Hall for our new still embryonic Oxnead collection. Meanwhile I’ve been working on getting it into some kind of order, which is quite tricky as most of the stuff we’ve written is about one end of the timeline. Yes, Sir Robert.

I’ve also managed to produce (today) a financial report for the DCC on Monday. No news from Howard on transferring the account. Did I mention that Howard and Anna had invited us to go to Iona with them in June? They have. Looking forward to it. It’s going to snow tomorrow, allegedly.

Straightening out

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Very soggy indeed outside: the whole month has been pretty wet, and I suspect our forthcoming weekend at Buxton may feature some quite muddy walking. Still, you never know.

I’ve been straightening out the office, which is quite satisfying. I am still treasurer of the church, but I’m not sure how long that will go on. Howard is trying to open a new account, as far as I know. He preached on the financial situation on Sunday and did it quite well, though I always feel uneasy about that sort of thing.

I’ve been in touch with Andrew’s care worker, Elaine, who seemed quite surprised about his funding situation. Apparently no-one had told her; so I’m not sure what the finance department of Coventry City Council is up to. She is now trying to get some sense out of them. Best of luck to her.

Ethel, her friend John and Dot's new top feature in the cake-cutting
Ethel, her friend John and Dot’s new top feature in the cake-cutting

It poured with rain for Ethel’s 90th birthday party on Sunday. It took place at her care home in Welborne and was attended by the usual suspects: Angela, Rodney, Vicki and Graham; Roger and Rosie; Tally’s daughter-in-law Ann and her son Rob, who is a carpenter. I remember this because she told me several times. Dot had arranged for Marion to make a sponge cake – beautiful as always – and a fruit cake appeared from elsewhere. A jolly time was had by all.

The Paston exhibition has come to an end after three months. Dot managed to get Anne there on the last day, but the story goes on. Yesterday Rob and I visited the UEA for a talk with Dr Karen Smyth about her new project on the Pastons, which will start small and get a a lot of input from us but eventually build up to a digital heritage monster that could attract as much as £1 million in grant or research money.

The good news is that the work we do for it in the initial stages (and possibly later on as well) will be paid for; so maybe all that voluntary work we’ve done over the years will eventually reap its reward. Other than the reward implicit in doing it, of course.

Following that meeting, Caroline joined us for a Chronicle meeting and lunch – prepared by Dot despite the fact that the school she’s governor of is in the midst of Ofsted. She left later to be interviewed by the inspector. We had a good meeting: I sang my song, and Caroline read her poems, and we planned a way forward. I am going to work on a structure for the new performance (based on Oxnead), and Rob is going to try to get the owners of the Hall interested enough to host it.

We have managed to visit the cinema three Mondays in a row, which is amazingly consistent for us. Following Hobbit 2 and Gravity, we went to see American Hustle, which was excellent in many ways, but still not quite as good as the other two. The fact that it’s based on a true story possibly made it a little less neat than it might have been. As Tom Clancy says, the difference between fact and fiction is that fiction has to make sense.

Tuesday Group was at the Archers this week, and I had a carload, taking Judy, Ian and Harriet through pouring rain (Dot was preparing for Ofsted). We are considering dropping TG for a while and inviting different people round as part of a new church project. But we want to keep seeing David and Bridget and Vicky, who no longer attend St Augustine’s, so we’ll probably invite them too. Anyway, we’re still thinking about it.

My tanka book with Joy McCall has just been published, and I’m picking up some copies later. It’s on Amazon, but with the disturbing note that it’s not available, and they don’t know when it will be. I hope someone sorts that out. Not me, obviously.

Now you see it – oh no, maybe you don’t

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Flooding at Pull's Ferry
Flooding at Pull’s Ferry

The storm surge hit the east coast on the evening of December 5. It was the biggest surge since 1953, and there was a huge threat to property and to people’s lives. If you had switched on the BBC’s News at Ten, you would have been able to see exactly what was happening … No, wait, you wouldn’t have seen anything at all about it, because Nelson Mandela died at exactly the same time.

I have already written a piece on my website about what a shocking mismanagement of news this was, but the former news editor of the EDP tells me I’m wrong. I now see that it was exactly the right decision for news editors, but exactly wrong for viewers.

Anyway, as I write I believe the coast road at Walcott is still closed, and many homes along the coast have been flooded or destroyed. Homes have fallen off the dunes at Hemsby, where I spent my holidays as a child, when the sea never came anywhere near the dunes. The tidal Wensum flooded a bit at Norwich, but not much. Haddiscoe, way inland, was cut off.

None of this affected me much. On the Friday night Dot and I were at Open Studios in Norwich, where we bought a picture from Martin Laurance and some art boxes from Rupert Mallin. On the Saturday we were at Bacton Village Hall, just along the road from devastated Walcott. We had been diverted through Knapton by police, but this was because someone had turned a car over on the Bacton road from North Walsham. Quite an achievement.

The village hall event was a celebration of the Paston Heritage Society’s year – a very eventful one, culminating in the big exhibition at the Norfolk Record Office. Excellent refreshments and a slice of video from Peter Stibbons: a fun evening. Today Dot and I went to the last of the eight lectures: Rob Knee on the Paston Legacy. I read one of my poems in the middle of it, which was pleasing – for me, anyway.

It was my second performance in three days: on Sunday the band (Far Cry) travelled to Lowestoft to perform at the Seagull. Rob was there too, reading his winning poem in a recent competition. We did three songs – The Rolling Hills of Pakefield; Man in the Mask; and Falling Apart – as a foursome, with me on vocals and guitar, Phil on the other guitar and Dot and Emily (Phil’s daughter) on violin. As Emily had not rehearsed with us, she did well to even think about it. I think we sounded OK, but they’re a nice crowd who wouldn’t tell us if we hadn’t. We got some good applause, anyway.

Sunset glow on a ploughed field at Rockland
Sunset glow on a ploughed field at Rockland

Since the storm the weather has been calm but pretty chilly. On Monday Dot and I visited Geoff , who continues to recover well. He has walked to the village shop and been driven to a couple of events. He can walk around the house (slowly) without a stick. We had quite a long chat with him while Sophie was out, and I collected some antibiotics for him (for his toes) from the village surgery.

In the evening we went to the DCC, which proved quite short as there were several absences and Howard was there only briefly as someone who he hadn’t seen for a while had turned up unexpectedly. We discussed how to split the parish share and decided on 77-23 (it was 80-20). If I was treasurer, I would worry about this. Oh, I am.

On Tuesday, before being entertained by the Archers for Tuesday Group, I went to Fakenham for a Chronicle meeting. Sadly, Kay was absent as she had had a lot of trouble looking after her father-in-law, who broke his hip in Barcelona and had to be taken back to the Isle of Man. What are the chances of that happening? Anyway the three of us had soup and cheese and discussed our Oxnead project. Rob had written seven poems already; I had written one; and Caroline had written a half. Much to do. We are aiming at a book and premiere (possibly at Oxnead) in September.

Back in Norwich I got my new non-varifocal glasses from Boots and was relieved to find I could see through them (they’re for computer and music, but wearable most of the time if I want to). A much better solution.

Meanwhile Phil and Joy are still in Southampton, and Lucy is slightly improved, though I have heard nothing directly. My cousin Sandy in South Africa has lost her husband Alex, who was very generous to us while we were out there. He died of liver cancer, quite suddenly.

Joe has had a full page in the EDP on his photography, and he and Birgit are going to Germany for Christmas. I have written a few cards, and Dot has bought lots of presents.

Performing for each other

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Two performances in two days: the first at Cromer with Chronicle, at the invitation of the Friends of Cromer Museum. There were well over 50 people in the hall, and the songs got clapped! I think it was our best performance yet: we even managed to answer a few questions at the end. We had our new CD on sale. Only sold one, unfortunately – we weren’t really organised in selling mode, but we did sell two books as well.

We had rehearsed at Rob’s house in North Walsham, with food supplied by Penny, and Dot travelled by train to Cromer to hear us (had a bit of trouble finding the hall, but I found her near the fish and chip shop). Our old friend Beryl (from Barn days) was in the audience.

The second performance was by the Sillars Orchestra at Tasburgh Church. Dot went early to rehearse and I arrived about 7.10. It was dark, of course, and nobody had bothered to signpost the unobtrusive car park, so cars were scattered over the verges of a narrow approach road. I scattered mine there too: a fortuitous space opened up for me. Nice performance by the orchestra: I sat with Neville Thrower from the CNS and his cousin-in-law. These details are fascinating, aren’t they?

Wine and nibbles were provided at the break. The vicar bookended the performance very nervously, and Dot followed me home. I didn’t realise it was her until she drew level at the Trowse bypass slip road lights.

Now we are about to head for church, and I have received a text from UPS to say the leaflets are arriving today and can I arrange for someone to be here. Couldn’t be worse, of course. No-one is going to be here practically all day, because after church we are heading for Caddington to pick up the grandchildren. It’s Amy’s birthday, and they’re staying with us till Wednesday while David is in Canada. I may have to approach the neighbours. But which neighbours?