
Grandson Oliver takes a break on the way round the Attenborough walk on Boxing Day, which was brilliantly sunny but with a fair ol’ chillin’ breeze, as they might say in Norfolk if they spoke Norfolk as badly as I do. It had got gradually colder as Christmas week went by, and this morning it barely crept above freezing, though there was only a light frost on the windscreen.
Andrew is here for a couple of days. We picked him up on the way back from Nottingham, where we’d spent a very calm and peaceful Christmas with our family at Julia and Dave’s home. Spot the deliberate error in that sentence: yes, it wasn’t calm and peaceful, because Oliver and Amy were there. But it was a lot of fun, and there were far too many presents for everybody. The journey up to Nottingham was very good, but there was a lot of traffic on the way back yesterday, and we eventually diverted off the A14 just after Huntingdon, and Dot navigated a new route through the southern Fens via places like Earith and ending at Mildenhall. We’d stopped earlier at the Thrapston Little Chef, which is usually good, but the service was appalling and the food only passable.
This morning I led morning worship at St Augustine’s. There were nine of us and two children, which is rather more than I expected. Mark Heybourne did a really good talk on Mary, and on bringing light into a dark world. Called at Phil and Joy’s afterward to pick up Andrew, and after a light lunch I took Andrew for a walk via the Rosary (put some winter plants on mum’s grave) and on to St James’ Hill, then back by the river.
