Tag Archives: festival

Motorway magic

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Andrew at Happisburgh
Andrew at Happisburgh

Summer seems to be approaching, at least for a while. Sunny and warm today, and we sat in the garden and drunk tea after Dot got back from one of her schools this afternoon. Earlier she came with me to the doctor’s, and  I think he was intimidated into giving me a pretty thorough going over, though I think he believes nothing is wrong. So do I really. Nevertheless my blood pressure is still a bit high, and I have to return for a check in about a month. Meanwhile I am having a chest x-ray at the hospital, which apparently you can do on a drop-in basis, as long as they know your doctor  is sending you.

While there Dot mentioned her heart did a funny sort of beat-skipping thing, with the result that she had to go to a clinic this afternoon and is booked in for something else. I don’t know the details, because she is now at a governors’ meeting at Little Plumstead, but she sounded pretty upbeat on the phone. So is Phil, who was at the hospital yesterday and has been promised some treatment to reduce muscle pain from his Parkinson’s.

The previous three days were taken up by Andrew. Phil drove me over to Coventry to fetch him on Monday, when it rained quite a lot, but not at the critical times. Because of road works we got on to the M11 going the wrong way, but were able to reverse that quite quickly. However, we mirrored the adventure coming back, when there was a huge hold-up approaching Cambridge on the A14, and I decided (as navigator) to continue down the M11 to Duxford and then go back up the A11. It seems a big diversion, but I think it was the right thing to do.

Before that we’d had a meal at Thrapston Little Chef, where Andrew was disconcerted to find no steak on the menu, but settled for barbecued chicken followed by (you guessed it) a sundae.

On Tuesday the weather was much better. Andrew and I walked into the city, heading for M&S, but discovered Peacock’s in the Mall and bought him a new jacket, new trousers, shirts, pants and socks, as all these seemed to be in short supply at Coventry (except the jacket, which was just in very bad shape). He declined my suggestion that we get him a haircut, and instead we had a coffee in the Arcade. Nasty moment there as he left for the toilet in the middle and (a) couldn’t find it and (b) took a long time to come back. I had visions of him wandering around Norwich (because the toilets were oddly outside the restaurant).

Anyway we found ourselves in the Castle Museum instead. Then after lunch Dot visited a school at Corton and I took Andrew to Barton Broad, which promised more than it delivered, then on to Walcott, where we got an ice cream, and Happisburgh, where we surveyed the recent surge damage and walked along the cliffs to see where the path had fallen into the sea.

Andrew was quite keen to go on a train, for some reason, so yesterday he and I took the train to North Walsham and walked through the town to the cemetery, where we met Dot, put flowers on the graves and drove home together. (Dot had  meanwhile dropped in to see her aunt.)

After lunch we set off for Coventry and made quite good time, arriving at Minster Lodge at almost exactly 5pm, which was not the brightest thing to do. All well there – staff very pleased to see him back, or at least gave that impression – but then I tried to drive through the rush-hour traffic while avoiding the numerous road works. In the end I arrived by chance at Cheylesmore and sat in Dawlish Drive eating my chicken sandwich in the sun.

Afterwards I eventually found Binley and got some petrol at Morrisons before heading back to the A45 and home by the longer but easier route (M45, M1, A421), doing it in well under three hours. At Newport Pagnell services I was approached by a woman who was driving the wrong way down the M1 (bit of a theme, this) and wanted to know if there was any way she could turn round. I told her she would have to go on to the next junction, which was not far away. She was heading for Oxford, using “heading” in a completely different sense.

I arrived home about half an hour before Dot got back from orchestra rehearsal.

Happisburgh lighthouse from the now accessible pill box near the cliff edge.
Happisburgh lighthouse from the now accessible pill box near the cliff edge.

Going back a bit, on Friday last week Dot and I went to another Julian Week lunchtime  talk – this time by Dr Sarah Law on Julian and the Poetic Process. This was another really good one, despite the rather pathetic introducer, who seemed never to have seen a microphone before, let alone know how it worked. She propped it limply against the podium, where it was no use to man or beast. Fortunately the speaker overcame her ineptitude. That’s the trouble with these mystics: they don’t know how the world works.

Not true of Julian, of course, as former Archbishop Rowan Williams made clear in a much longer talk at the Cathedral the following morning, starting at 10.30am. Not much would get us out of bed that early on a Saturday, but he was well worth hearing, talking about Julian’s anti-theology and much else that I wish I could remember. Happily, I believe the talk is being printed, so I can go back and check. Many friends in the packed audience.

But I am leaping ahead. Friday contained more – starting with my picking up the St Augustine’s accounts file from Sarah, continuing with delivering some old videos etc to Stuart to sell in a sale at The Stage and ending with a concert at St Andrew’s Hall by the London Philharmonic. We had a front-row seat; however, it was strategically placed so that we couldn’t see the soloist and could only catch a glimpse of the conductor. Yes, dear reader, we were behind a pillar. I knew the pillar was there when I booked, but figured we could see behind it. Unhappily, the plan I consulted was inaccurate. On the plus side, we were perfectly placed for Dot to study the second violins in action. And the music was really good.

It was the first event of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival. The second, on Saturday morning, was erecting a cardboard copy of St Peter Mancroft outside the Forum. Unfortunately, it was very windy.  The result was described by a friend as “underwhelming”. Harsh but fair.

Dot and car both unable to go out

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A rare picture of our new wall (usually inaccessible or hidden behind Wildlife vehicles)

Ok, that’s far too long a gap – yet again. In self-justification, I was going to do it at the weekend, but someone decided late on Saturday afternoon that they weren’t going to be able to do a sermon the next morning, so I had to write one. As part of my sermon was about how self-justification is unnecessary and not very appealing, you can ignore that last bit. Oh dear: too late.

Dot has been ill too. She gets really bad colds that don’t normally last all that long but are extremely unpleasant for her while they last. They’re also quite frightening, especially when she can’t stop coughing and can’t breathe. She’s been in bed for a couple of days, but is now improving (though still in bed at the moment).

Last night of course she was unable to go to the final concert of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival at St Andrew’s Hall – a performance of Verdi’s Requiem by the London Philharmonic and the Festival Chorus. I took Judy instead, and she was most appreciative. Rightly so, because it was  superb. This is really not my sort of music, but it was top quality. I was particularly impressed by the soprano. At the end one of the cellists mouthed to one of her colleagues that it had been a good performance. She was right.

We saw the Cracknells in passing. Wouldn’t have thought it was their sort of thing either, but their eclecticism shouldn’t surprise me any more.

The weather yesterday and today is really summery. It wasn’t too bad on Saturday, but there was a cool wind while Colin and his son were rebuilding part of our wall at the back and erecting a new trellis. I have to say it looked really good, despite Dot’s not being able to supervise.

Dot’s car is ill too. It sprung a leak in the power steering fluid reservoir, which had to be replaced, but it will apparently take three weeks to do so; so we are a one-car family. I have looked carefully at our diaries, and I think we shall be able to cope. Perhaps we only need one car… Dot doesn’t think so.

It went into the garage last Monday, and the same evening I played my last game of chess this season, beating Andy Pandian (Oh yes) to reach 6/8 in my tournament. I still don’t know if this will be enough to win it. I suspect not. But as it may be my last game for a while, and it features a very nice finish, here it is (well, the finish, anyway):

At this point I envisaged a nice sacrificial finish, but I had to persuade him to allow it, so I played 40 Qd6. Exchanging queens would give me an easily superior position, so as I expected, he played 40…Qc3, whereupon I played 41 f6. This wins whatever he does, but happily he didn’t see the main threat and played 41…axb, and on my 42 Qxf8+ he resigned immediately. He has to take the Queen, when 43 Rd8 is mate. Not difficult, but quite pleasant.

Longish meeting of the Paston Trustees on a very chilly Thursday. Dot dropped me at Rob’s while she took Jessie to the crematorium at Horsham St Faith’s (it was the anniversary of Frank’s death), and Rob gave me a lift to Paston. Much discussion on many issues, which I somehow managed to translate the next day into coherent minutes. My preparations for Dragon Hall seem OK (I had seen Sarah again) and they were fairly impressed by my new flyers. I’m OK at producing publicity, but I’m not sure what to do with it.

Much else going on in the background. A has now been transferred to a smaller ward after he had become very hostile to other patients for no apparent reason, but on the plus side he is now getting visits from church friends who I got in touch with. Phil is in Southampton with Sam, who has just got a new job at St Swithun’s Girls’ School in Winchester, which should suit him down to the ground. Meanwhile I’m taking Joy to Ditchingham this afternoon for a five-day retreat.

 

 

Alien experience at the Cathedral

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Rêve d’Herbert in the Cathedral Close

Pressure has eased somewhat, although we still remain pretty busy. Weather is a bit cooler, but not unpleasant. Gave my talk to the Norwich tourist guides on Thursday evening, and it went well after an initial panic when the projector wouldn’t work because it was switched to video instead of computer, something with my limited experience I didn’t know it could do.

About 15-20 guides present, including the unique and obscure Jude, who landed me in it in the first place. Surprisingly, she brought Roger with her. The talk lasted about an hour, with a few questions afterwards, and the guides were quite complimentary. I had been worried about speaking to them because of their vast knowledge, but I must have come up with one or two things they didn’t know.

One of them came up with something I didn’t know: one of the many John Pastons – this one a brother of Erasmus, Clement and Thomas – is buried in Huntingfield Church in Suffolk. Will have to go and look at some point. Did a bit of research on it when I came home.

I had managed to complete the brochures on Pastons in Norwich and Dragon Hall (a new, smaller flyer) by the time I gave the talk, and so was able to make them available. The Pastons in Norwich one was Vistaprint, and I had to manually correct an error in all 100 of them (my error), but managed to do it without spoiling the look. The other one I created myself on Pages. Left a few of them at the Library yesterday after attending a talk there by Dr Karen Smyth on Julian of Norwich.

This is Julian week, and after the talk (and a chat with Karen, who is speaking at Dragon Hall on the Pastons, and Louise Øhrstrøm, the Danish Julian expert who spoke at St Augustine’s) we went up and looked at a display of books on Julian. Interesting map of medieval Norwich.

March of the aliens

Afterwards Dot and I had lunch at Presto and had a long chat with Kathy and Roberto. In the evening we went up to the Cathedral Close for the opening event of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival, which was an amazing performance by a group of French artists unlike anything I’ve ever seen. They were rather like Iain M Banks’ Culture books, in that any attempt to describe what was going on would fall woefully short. Basically they were on stilts, shrouded in white, and used inflated costumes and lights to produce eerie, alien effects as they walked through the crowds, ending down on the Green with a kind of dance and launch of lighted balloons. Incredible. Dot and I were so intent on taking pictures that we lost each other in the crowds at one point, but were reunited under a lamppost by the Green. I am not easily impressed by spectacle, but this was totally exceptional.

Thursday had been a good day even before the talk at Central Baptist Church to the guides. It was one of those days when everything falls into place. After taking Dot up into the city I left the car at Kwik Fit for a slow puncture to be fixed, and while there noticed that they did windscreen wipers. Dot had broken one of hers, so when I returned with my car later in the day, she took hers, and they did it on the spot. Also arranged for BT to come and install Infinity (there’s a poem in that somewhere) and British Gas to do our annual service. And I got in touch with Andrew’s carer, had along chat and got her mobile phone number. Should be going over there on Tuesday with Dot, hopefully to catch the doctor on his ward rounds and to see Minster Lodge, which Andrew said would “do for now”. Deep shock.

On Wednesday I had a nice surprise when I visited the doctor: my blood pressure had dropped considerably, despite my not taking the additional pill that the doctor had been under the impression I was taking. He still tried to persuade me to take it, but I declined.

In the evening Dot and I went to the Christian Resource Centre to hear the coroner, William Armstrong, give a before-dinner talk. He is an old admirer of Dot’s (they were at City College together), and the two of them had a chat afterwards while I was talking to Régine Godfrey and her husband Peter, next to whom we had been sitting. She is French and writes for an Archant magazine; so we had something in common (complaints about page designers). I was also able to keep up with her remarks about French politics and the French words that she used on and off, so I was quite pleased. They live in the old hospital complex on St Stephen’s.

The talk was excellent too, as was the meal, though I think I prefer the usual format of having the meal first.

On Bank Holiday Monday we called to see Jessie for tea and cake, then I walked to the cemetery to get a bit of exercise. Dot joined me there, of course. A beautiful day, and I think we did well to keep clear of the crowds who apparently, and understandably, flocked to the coast. Today we’re awaiting the arrival of Linda to cut our hair. Much cooler now, with a bit of rain.

Goats, piano and a cold cathedral

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wisteria
Wisteria flowering in our back garden for the first time in a quarter of a century

The warm weather persists. Today we are in the mid-20s: one of those warm, calm summer days we don’t see enough of. We’re trying to resist the temptation to hurtle out in the car, on the grounds that everyone else will be doing the same. Still, we might venture a walk later on. We had expected Andrew to be with us this weekend, but he was not well enough to come. In fact when Phil and I went to Coventry yesterday to move some more of his stuff from Gareth’s to The Langleys, we found him to be in a sad state, and although I was intending at first to bring him back with us anyway, the longer we were with him, the worse he seemed, and in the end we decided it wasn’t practical, either from his point of view or from ours. It was sad to see him so fearful. We did manage to get quite a bit of his stuff moved, including three or four storage cubes which have given him more space in his room to accommodate it. I tried to get him to select what he wanted to bring, but he wasn’t able to do it, and eventually I had to make the decisions, while Phil, with a lot of help from Gareth – Andrew’s former carer, who is talking of moving to Portugal to rear goats – shifted the heavy stuff. Phil and I left for home about 4pm, but because of heavy traffic and a couple of diversions didn’t get to Norwich until 7.30pm. Admittedly, we had a meal on the way …

Dot and I completed our nap hand of Norfolk and Norwich Festival Concerts on Wednesday and Thursday. Dot had been at Overstrand on Wednesday morning, but got back in time to take the bus up to Castle Meadow and walk the rest of the way to the Assembly House for a piano recital by Reinis Zarins, who journeyed from Prokoviev to Liszt by way of Schoenberg, which made for some surprisingly hilly scenery. Amazing technique. I was a little surprised that the hall wasn’t full, but the Roman Catholic Cathedral was packed for our final concert of the festival, billed as Tallis in Wonderland (see what they did there?). This was a group of six singers – British, despite their name,  I Fagiolini – who used a rather innovative approach to 15th and 16th century music. Unaccompanied voices, but a lot of strange presentation, particularly running round the church and singing from different individual positions, with additional words and singing from loudspeakers. I found the concert annoying at first, but eventually liked some of the ideas and movement; however, the overriding feeling was that it was very, very cold and I wanted them to get to the end as quickly as possible. This was made worse by the fact that it had been a warm day, and so no-one was wearing heavy clothing. The temperature inside the cathedral must have been about 15 degrees colder than outside. Felt sorry for the performers, who had to do it all again later in the evening. Felt even sorrier for the people who were going to come to the second, and presumably even colder, performance. Suggested on Twitter that it should be renamed Tallis on Ice.

We walked briskly home afterwards and snuggled up in front of the television for an hour or so. Earlier in the day Colin had come to re-lay a bit of our drive, which was cracking up. He discovered that our downpipe didn’t go anywhere except under the drive, so he changed plans (after discussion) and eventually – after discovering a gas pipe – went for a kind of stone-filled soakaway covered by pebbles. We are thinking of putting in a semi-circular water butt to solve the where-will-the-water-go problem. Meanwhile we now have a large soil-filled, wood box for vegetables in the back garden – but the really big news is that our wisteria has flowered for the first time in 26 years! It has got together with some honeysuckle and looks really good.