Tag Archives: doctor

I did not shoot the Sheriff

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Dot with her friend William
Dot with her friend William

We are now the proud if temporary possessors of a brand new Corsa, lent to us while the MX5 is repaired. I was taken to pick it up from Enterprise in Heigham Street on Friday afternoon. The traffic both ways was so bad that it took nearly an hour altogether, and my driver on the outward journey was not slow to point to the Grapes Hill roundabout as the problem.

The car has been on the drive since then, apart from two short trips – one to church yesterday, and one to the doctor’s today. I would also have driven it to the supermarket, but decided to wait till tomorrow because of the forecast heavy rain that annoyingly failed to materialise. Instead I watched the film Bitter Lake for the second time while Dot watched it for the first time. Still good, and available on iPlayer! It explains everything.

The visit to the doctor was routine, and had the added bonus of revealing a reduction in my blood pressure to 136/88. I had a discussion about the advisability of remaining on two Lanzoprasole tablets: the main reason for the visit. I feel better when on two a day; so naturally I have to try to get it back to one. Last Thursday, in a thinly related health event, I went to the hospital to see a urology nurse, which turned out to be a complete waste of time. She didn’t know why I was there, and nor did I (other than receiving a letter telling me to attend). On the plus side, I seem to be OK. On the minus side, she didn’t like me criticising her inaccurate diagram, and I didn’t like going in half an hour late.

When I got back from the doctor’s today I did some cutting and pulling in the garden to get something in our brown bin, which made me quite tired, but I’m sure it was good for me. Last week was a record as far as walking was concerned. When I say record, I mean the best week in the past month. Even counting Buxton.

Last Friday Dot and I went to a house somewhere in the middle of a field. I think it was Framingham Pigot, but it could have been Bixley or some other, nameless part of South Norfolk. The event was a brunch to celebrate the success of a charity run by one of Dot’s friends, Helen (a former head teacher), which involved collecting sugar for homeless shelters. Don’t ask. Anyway it was a nice event. Helen is lovely, her husband Chris was a nice bloke, and I spent much of the time talking to Sue and Roger Eagle, though not Louise, as Louise pointed out. She is the secretary of the charity, and a nurse, I believe. Probably not urology. The food was excellent.

We had to rush back to get the MX5 in place to be collected by the body repairers. It was duly carted off, and will not be seen again until next week. Dot has arranged for them to do another dent unrelated to the recent car park mishap, which will end up costing us over £300. So that’s all good.

In the evening we went to the centenary dinner of St Augustine’s Hall, which was honoured by the presence of the Sheriff of Norwich, William Armstrong OBE, the former Norwich Coroner who used to go out with Dot when they were both at City College. So obviously she chatted him up. His wife Monica was very nice. Obviously I didn’t chat her up. Or shoot the Sheriff, though I’m saying nothing about his deputy. Nice meal provided by Carrie’s crowd, and I helped with the washing up. The plaque looked good – a rare example of a suggestion of mine coming to fruition.

On Valentine’s Day Dot went to see Norwich City beat Wolves 2-0, which made her happy and relieved that she was not an unmitigated jinx. In the evening I cooked her an M&S meal that I had bought earlier. It came with fizzy stuff and was quite tasty.

On Sunday after church we were prepared to go and see Jessie, but it turned out she was spending the afternoon with Roger; so we stayed in. I walked up to the Rosary while Dot did some sewing. I know that’s hard to believe. Also hard to believe is the fact that I sent off for and have now fixed a new letterbox. It wasn’t easy, of course. The fittings were not quite right (although they looked right on the diagram), and I had to cut off some plastic bits and screw in where nothing had been screwed before. I amaze myself. The cut in my hand was not very deep.

Scraping the barrel

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More fireworks. You can't beat a good firework.
More fireworks. You can’t beat a good firework.

I’ve just been to Morrison’s to get some mushrooms and tea, and have noted that Dot is on her way back from Liverpool, though I haven’t heard from her. She and Barbara have been delivering some philosophy to some staff at St Helens; they’ve been doing it all day, and now Dot has to drive back. According to the app, she’s now in Swincliffe Crescent, Cleckheaton, which doesn’t seem to make sense. Ah, well.

Earlier today I visited the doctor again and got in to see him only 35 minutes late. Apparently there is nothing wrong with me. My ultrasound scan revealed only a slight fattiness in the liver (no real problem), and the urology people have not got back to my GP, so that can’t be anything urgent. Or it’s so weird they can’t believe it. I suspect the former.

Quite cold today (and yesterday), but a vast improvement on the weekend, which was almost constant rain, just right (not) for the visit of David, Oliver and Amy. We got the table tennis table out again; so that was all good. But we stayed indoors on Saturday morning, and in the afternoon, during a brief break in the wetness, Dot, David and Oliver went to see Norwich draw 3-3 with Brighton while I spent an hour in Hobbycraft with Amy. She was very careful and wouldn’t let me spend any money on her, but she ended up with a white Christmassy branch / tree, some snow, some lights and some other stuff, which we manoeuvred home.

In the evening we all went with Philip and Anne to Prezzo’s, where we discovered that our favourite waitress was on her last shift and was moving to Nando’s. May have to give that a try.

On Sunday we had to scrape the barrel to get a service together. Ruth was supposed to be leading, but she was in Wales. Then Howard was supposed to be leading and preaching, but he was in London with a family crisis. Phil was in Bristol, and Dot was looking after our family; so I ended up leading and playing the guitar, and Anna did a lectio divina in the sermon slot. Add two unsuspecting readers, and it went quite well.

Our family departed just after 2pm, and the journey back seemed to go reasonably quickly. It was still raining, but Dot and I both decided to go to Soul Circus at the Cathedral with Judy. David and Bridget were there, and it was enjoyable, though I think it could be improved.

Last night I got the bus to attend a Science and Faith lecture at Holy Trinity, where I encountered Peter Bussey and Rod Kibble. It was a very good talk on the mystical experiences that people with epilepsy sometimes had: the speaker was excellent, relaxed and witty and not afraid to use the three words “I don’t know” when he didn’t. Thought-provoking. Annoyingly I forgot to take my phone; so my two-mile walk home did not register on my Moves app.

Going back in time, we had a coffee and compline at Claire’s on the Tuesday and a haircut on Wednesday – just in time for Dot to make it to orchestra rehearsal. An unexpected bonus.

Answering sculpture call

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Organ recital at Paston Church, with just a hint of medieval wall painting in the background (right).
Organ recital at Paston Church, with just a hint of medieval wall painting in the background (right).

The scaffolding has departed, the roof seems secure, and a cheque for over £2000 will shortly be winging its way to the builder. So that’s all right. Meanwhile, David is in Canada for Thanksgiving, and I have written three more Iona poems in the hope of getting a book together and keeping Joy happy: she wants me to publish a book of photographs and poems.

On Wednesday I went to see the doctor, who seemed fairly happy with me and in a bit of a hurry for a training session. He is going to book me in for an ultrasound check on my upper stomach/large bowel, but he says my other symptoms (virtually none) make it unlikely that it’s anything too serious. This is not as reassuring as he might have intended it to be.

I left my glasses behind, which he didn’t notice as he flew out of the room, but when I got home, I realised what I’d done. I rang the surgery, to be told it was closed for training. I drove back anyway and found it was indeed closed, which is a rare example of joined-up thinking at Thorpewood. So I had to do without my glasses until the following  morning, when I picked them up from reception.

Later that day, we had our hair cut after a postponement from last week. This is normal – even more normal that postponing a meeting with the Coomes.

Yesterday was the much-heralded Open Day at Paston Church, organised largely by the PCC but partly by the Paston Heritage Society. Dot and I drove out, enjoyed an organ recital, and I took Penny back to North Walsham so that Rob could continue in role as John Paston in a funny hat. On my return there was a talk on medieval wall paintings, which was more interesting than it sounds. Peter was there showing an updated version of the DVD in which Rob appears with animation of a reconstruction of Paston Hall. Impressive, actually. Lucy was there for quite a while, feeling considerably better than of late. Refreshments were superb as usual, despite Brigette being called away because her no-longer-secret barn had flooded.

We called in on Jessie on the way back, adding to our refreshment, and after our return tho Norwich (through a considerable thunderstorm) we got a call from the Hendersons halfway through our mussels. As a result recalled round for champagne and a view (through the darkness) of the new sculpture, which was nicely placed and looking good. We took some cakes, which turned out to be mouldy. Ah well.

Today was Nicholas’ last communion at St Augustine’s, which attracted a motley crew of more than 30 people, including Vicky and Amy and others less distinguished. All very jolly, with excellent cake from Anna and apparently some wine, though this did not reach me. I had a nice cup of tea, though.

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.

Yeats knew a thing or two

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Crocuses in the Rosary
Crocuses in the Rosary

Sunny and relatively mild the last few days. Went to the doctor yesterday and got some antibiotics, but didn’t feel I’d really explained the problem properly. I’m having a blood test on Friday, so that should reveal anything underlying. I get tired very easily.

Before going to the doctor’s I drove Dot to a meeting at Thorpe High School, and she walked from there to pick me up from surgery, arriving only an hour after my appointment but while I was in with the doctor. I had been in the waiting room for almost an hour, which may be a record. After lunch we walked into the city, and she got her feet looked at while I paid in some church cheques at the TSB. Dot then spent some time looking round the shops while I returned home and did some work.

Part of the work was preparing a financial report for the DCC last night. That was well received, but they are easily pleased, I’m happy to say. While waiting for the doctor I wrote a couple of poems, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time.

Dot and I went to a poetry conversation at the Playhouse on Friday, organised by the UEA.  Adrian Ward and two people from the Seagull were there. There was some interesting stuff, but as usual with such things, one or two people dominated and the talk kept going off at a tangent (“things fall apart; the centre cannot hold” – W B Yeats).

On Saturday, after getting some groceries for Joy and Phil because the latter is ill in bed, we drove to North Walsham for a visit to the cemetery – followed more importantly by a meal with Jessie, attended also by Roger and Liz. Ate far too much, of course, but a very pleasant time. Jessie is having quite a lot of problems with her eyes, probably as a result of an allergy to her most recent drops.

On Sunday the vicar made an appearance, following his recent excursion to Aspen, Colorado, but the congregation was ushered out rather sharpish to make way for a baptism at 1pm, which seemed kind of odd. In the afternoon Dot and I went up to the Rosary with flowers for Mum and Dad’s grave, followed by  a glance at a house on Thorpe Road that had caught Dot’s attention.

We have extracted Dot’s car from the garage, though she collided with one side of it in the process. Now it is in a holding pattern by the roadside, because the replacement people are coming on Thursday with two big vans and need the space. Hence the arrangement mentioned in paragraph two.

Funeral of Peter Beales gets TV coverage

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Signs of spring in the Rosary today

Rather a lot going on at the moment, which explains my lack of posting. Dot took quite a while to recover from her cold after Buxton, and she still has a bit of a cough, as have I. Feel more or less all right, though, especially as I’ve just booked a fortnight in Ballater at a house called The Coyles in Golf Road, just round the corner from the legendary wee house.

Today is a lovely winter’s day, with blue sky and not really cold after an initial frost. I walked up to the Rosary for about half an hour, under doctor’s orders. He took my blood pressure last Wednesday and pronounced it too high. I declined his offer of more pills, and he gave me a month to show some progress. Have booked an appointment online for March 15. It was the only one available.

Took Phil to the doctor’s last Thursday, and after returning him home and calling on the vicar with cheques, took the car in for servicing, which came out at an unexpectedly high £400. Walked home (of course), but Dot drove me up to fetch it at tea time.

The service included cleaning the car, which was fortuitous, as the following day was Peter Beales’ funeral, which was big enough to make it on to TV as well as into the newspapers. Dot and I drove to the nursery and took advantage of the coach into town to avoid problems with parking. Fortunately seats were reserved at the front of the church for us (as family), and I managed to keep three chairs plus a wheelchair space for Angela, Rodney, Vicki and A Ethel. The latter survived the whole thing remarkably well, even when the lock to her bungalow jammed when we took her home, and we were stuck outside in the cold for about quarter of an hour waiting for the warden.

She had been taken to the church by a specially adapted taxi with R, A and V, and she also came to the refreshments in the nursery bistro, which coped splendidly with about 200 people. She got lots of attention, and it was a nice occasion. Richard and Mandy both gave good tributes (read by the vicar), and the service featured the Shipping Forecast, by special request of Peter. No-one knows why, but it certainly got people’s attention.

The taxi did the same return journey with Angela & Co, but we met them at A Ethel’s, which is how we came to be involved in the jammed lock situation. After we go tin and they left we stayed with A Ethel for a while, but she was nowhere near as badly affected as we thought she might be. Ironically (I suppose) I received an e-mail while we were there telling me that our friend Jan Miller had died of cancer at the age of 64. Totally unexpected; we had no idea she was ill.

On Saturday we had booked to go to a Riding Lights performance at Lowestoft, but the tickets never turned up, and Dot was coughing quite badly, so we decided to give it a miss instead of ringing up and demanding action. Not very good on their part, though, especially as when I originally tried to book, their website malfunctioned. Spent most of the day finishing off my sermon on Jesus’ temptations, which I delivered on Sunday, of course.

On Sunday evening we met Heather, Simon and Sam at the King’s Head and progressed to the Ali Tandoori for our usual Indian meal. Miraculously, Dot did not cough while eating, though she did have quite a lot of red wine. Had a really good evening: we get on very well with them. Pity they will soon be going to Bournemouth: Heather has a job at the university there (she is already commuting) and Simon is looking for one in the area. Sam is due to go to Chester University next year, and his band, The Upgrade, is playing at the Waterfront next month.

Monday afternoon saw another Paston event: a cafe conversation led by Elizabeth McDonald at the White Lion Cafe. About a dozen took part, and it went well: I was able to make some contributions. Kay Riggs was there, as was Adrian Ward, which was nice. In the afternoon Dot and I did a mammoth shop at the supermarket and ran into Barbara Vidion, which was also nice.

Enthusiastic and full of ideas

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Poor quality picture of top quality girl: Amy in tea cosy and glasses

A couple of visits to the surgery in the last couple of days: the first to see Dr Hampsheir to test my blood pressure, which was up a bit but not too much; the second for an all-purpose blood test. Awaiting results with unbated breath, in a similar way to my awaiting  a dry day – knowing that such things exist but are unlikely to happen any time soon.

Yesterday it teemed down while Rob picked me up and transported me (with Lucy) to the Norfolk Record Office for a meeting with Dr Alban about our planned Paston exhibition there at the end of next year. That went very well, with all parties enthusiastic and full of ideas (no, it doesn’t sound like me, does it?) Tomorrow I am meeting Natasha Harlow to discuss Dragon Hall.

Still raining today (despite misleading patches of blue sky) when I took Dot up to purchase her iPhone 5. This took well over two hours, partly because the guy serving us did not know an awful lot about switching from one phone contract to another, then because we couldn’t open Dot’s old phone to get the old sim card out and find out what the model was, then because Dot couldn’t remember her Apple password …. well, you get the picture. The whole process involved most of the people in the Apple shop at some time or another, but we did eventually emerge into the early evening, where it was – yes, you guessed. It was raining. We picked up a bus outside Debenhams.

This gave Dot a relatively short time before she had to go out again to a governors’ meeting at Little Plumstead. If I were to say she was calm and relaxed, I would be lying. She does seem to have been very busy again this week. But at least she has an iPhone5, and before she went out I managed to switch on her contacts.

Goldfish home to large figures

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Low quality iPhone pic of grandchildren enjoying sharing their grandmother's bed

Yes, I did get to the doctor’s in time, but I rather wish I hadn’t. I was persuaded that my blood pressure is indeed very high, and I am now on a pill a day, which sounds like the first step to more pills. Before seeing the doctor I felt fine. Now I feel tired and stressed. Perhaps my body knows best what pressure to pump my blood through at.

While we were there Dot took the opportunity to mention a lump that has appeared in her groin – I say “appeared”, but it’s been there for years: it’s just suddenly turned ugly. Apparently it has become infected; so she has antibiotics and hopefully it’s now turned the corner. It got boil-like, and she now has a dressing from the pharmacist for it. Eventually she will see another doctor, and it may have to be removed.

The car bill was indeed ginormous. All sorts of large figures are now lurking on our Goldfish card, waiting to pounce. However, the house is nearly finished. Today Gary is here, relocating Dot’s part of the study back where it started, so that she will be sharing with me. I hope he will also have a look at the attic door, which seems a mite insecure. Dot is off on the road to Cromer, where she’s meeting Maggie Broad for lunch before visiting a school at Overstrand – just the start of a busy week for her.

On Thursday last week we left early and picked up Oliver and Amy, who stayed with us until Sunday morning. On the way back to Norwich we stopped at Elveden and had a really nice snack. Amy spent much of the time here in Norwich organising small-bowl starters for meals, but we did manage to fit in a few games of Cluedo, at which Oliver is supreme (really) and some lotto too. We also saw A Monster in Paris at the cinema, which everyone enjoyed. Nice that the children now like cinema and theatre. They were lovely as usual: we even managed to form a band at one point which didn’t sound too bad, considering. Oliver wanted to put it on YouTube, but this was resisted for contractual reasons.

On Saturday David joined us for lunch at Prezzo’s. Most of us (especially the children) were feeling very tired, and we only managed a main course, but Amy brought out her starters again for tea. The three of them returned home early yesterday, as I left for church; Dot followed on in time to practice. After the service (Communion) Phil, Dot and I practised the songs that we hope to play next Sunday at the Seagull.

After a rather rushed lunch I hastened out to Poringland to have a chat with Philip R about an upcoming medical event. Pretty much collapsed at home afterwards: well, not quite. But there was an element of tiredness. The weather has been very cold for the last two days. It was soggy on Saturday, when Norwich City did their usual trick of exiting the FA Cup when given a good opportunity against a team from a lower division (1-2 to Leicester). Dot has purchased a quarter of a season ticket for next season from Jonathan. No-one (except possibly Jonathan) really knows what this means.

I don’t really have time for this

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Dot pauses by Shrieking Pits on the way to Hungry Hill, between Northrepps and Overtsrand

The old joke is that this doesn’t seem like a new year – it seems like one we’ve used before. But of course it is new, and everything in it is new, which I suppose is reassuring. Today is bright and still after severe storms, and I’ve just returned from the doctor, who told me my blood test results were A1 and my PSA level below 0.1, though I do have slightly high blood pressure. Well, who doesn’t?

Poor old Julia is in much worse condition, having broken and dislocated her ankle in a restaurant fall in Lapland before breakfast on New Year’s Eve. Very painful, and hard for everyone, with clinic visit, ankle manipulation and making sure she was fit enough to travel home the next day. She had an operation in hospital at Nottingham and will be in plaster for six weeks; it will be a year before she’s fully recovered. The word “fully” is flexible, since it covers a plate and screws in her ankle. We were due to be walking together in Derbyshire at the end of this month: that clearly won’t happen; we’ll have to wait and see whether we meet there or not. I suspect not.

Reverting to much more trivial matters, Dot and I used the Robinsons’ tickets to go to Carrow Road on New Year’s Eve and saw Norwich score in the last minute to draw 1-1 with Fulham. Not the best game ever, but much excitement at the death! Happily the weather was relatively mild at the time, but it’s been much colder and wilder since.

After Communion the next day we went out to see Jessie, who invited us to stay for high tea. This worked well, since we had been cancelled the second night in succession, with Anna suffering from migraine. Would have been awkward if we’d been committed to the Greens’ and offered tea by Jessie as well, with the table already set! Roger and his girlfriend Liz arrived later in the afternoon (we’d got there before 3pm) and we had a very pleasant time – Liz is in PR and publishing, and so we had much in common.

Our third evening booking in succession did survive: we met Heather, Simon and Sam in the Plough on St Benedict’s on Monday and later moved to the Clipper Indian restaurant for an excellent meal. Had a great time with them, as always.

Dot and I have decided to book ourselves a day a week together, and the first occurred on Wednesday, when we started off in Aylsham, looking at some vinyl flooring which may have been superseded by John Lewis (we’ll see), had lunch at the Old Tea Rooms in the town and then drove to Overstrand, where we tackled one of the walks the Coast Partnership had sent me for checking. It turned out to be one we’d done some years ago, but it was very enjoyable despite the cold weather: about four miles inland and then back to the coast. To complete a very full day, I went to a long meeting of the Paston trustees in the evening and was so late back that Dot had begun to worry about my safety – by this time the winds were very strong, and they continued strong through yesterday, which included the John Lewis visit.

In the midst of all this busyness – I still have to write a sermon, choose some hymns, turn my latest Little story into a book and write a new story for Amy, among other things – I have managed to write a poem. Unfortunately, it is not one of the five poems I have to write in response to pictures Ian sent me. I don’t really have time to write this blog. Oh dear, too late not to.

High quality exhibition

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Flooding on Carey's Meadow at the bottom of Harvey Lane, where I went for a walk a couple of days ago

I’ve been feeling a bit rough this past week, off and on. Not sure if it’s the antibiotics or an infection. Yesterday was bad; today is a bit better. I’m seeing the doctor this afternoon on what I believe is known as an unrelated matter – results of recent blood test – so I will mention it to him. Meanwhile Dot’s back is not much better, and she is seeing the chiropractor tomorrow. We’re going to Derbyshire the weekend after next, and it would be nice if she was fit enough to walk in the hills. It would be nice if I was too.

On Sunday after church we went to a big exhibition by Martin Laurance at Mandell’s Gallery in Elm Hill. As expected, very high quality, but nothing actually screamed “Buy me” at us. Even if it had, we probably wouldn’t have been able to afford it. Many of the usual crowd were there: Annette, Mike, Teri, Caroline, Hilary Mellon among others. Had a quick chat with Martin too. Very pleasant hour: we parked in the Monastery car park, which I think was full of exhibition-goers’ cars. It’s normally empty on a Sunday. We only drove there because we had to go somewhere else first (he hastened to add).

Yesterday Dot had lunch with Anne and was in the city till late afternoon. Much of the time she spent at the exhibition I went to last week. I meanwhile was stocking up at the supermarket in preparation for a large Tuesday Group: 12, if you count month-old George. Just about capacity, I think. We started watching The Nativity, but TM only managed about three minutes, saying it was too Anglicised. Not sure what that meant. He started trying to explain afterwards, but his argument was rather weakened by his only having seen about three minutes of it.

Today Barbara is here, working with Dot on their Philosophy4Children days at Dudley next month. I spoke to Maryta on the phone and discovered she had to cancel her holiday because of her back, which is still far from good. She finds any kind of travel by car difficult; needless to say, she’s still going in to work, mainly by rail. At least there’s no snow to stop her: it’s turned colder again, but blue sky the last couple of days.

OK, I’ve been to the doctor now, and he was ecstatic about my blood. I don’t think  he’s a vampire: it was more that the PSA level was about as low as it can be, which is very good news. He also gave me some stronger antibiotics for the urinary tract infection, and I’ve going to have a something-oscopy to see if my bowel is OK – mainly because I still have this tight, heavy feeling in my lower abdomen. We both think it’s scar tissue, but he wants to be sure. Sorry if that’s too much information.

We’ve just heard that Rosemary has gone into hospital for tests after having severe vomiting. OK, enough information.

I’ve just read Natural Mechanical, by J O Morgan, which I got for Christmas. It’s an extended poem about a lad from Skye who is a kind of naive genius at living off nature, but also brilliant with anything mechanical. Beautifully written, with elements of Dylan Thomas but also very distinctively different. I heard the author read at Aldeburgh and was much taken by it: the book sold out at the festival shop almost immediately, so others must have been taken by it too. Some lovely touches.