Heading off for Caddington later today, before staying the night there and then catching a flight to Nice for our holiday in Montauroux. Before that the piano tuner will arrive and do his stuff, no doubt reflecting simultaneously on the forthcoming Norwich v Ipswich playoffs and the SNP clean sweep of Scotland in the General Election. With a few votes still to be counted, the Conservatives have managed to get an overall majority – to everyone’s surprise. Resignations of Miliband, Clegg and Farage imminent. Resignations of a few pollsters would also be appropriate.
Our constituency, Norwich South, ousted Lib Dem Simon Wright and gave a huge majority to Labour. When we voted there was, for the first time in recorded memory, a queue at the polling station.
There were other big events this week. On Monday evening our band, Far Cry, performed at the Bicycle Shop cafe as part of Julian Week, and it all went pretty well, with some people from church (Carrie, Judy, Mary…) giving us moral support. Quite a nice number listening. Great to be able to sing my own songs to an actual audience who didn’t have to be there and weren’t performing themselves.
Emily and Lawrence helped us a lot, not least with street cred and the electrical stuff. Lawrence also recorded it, but was dubious about the sound quality. Between rehearsals and the actual event we had a light tapas meal upstairs, which was very good.
Next day we both went to the Archant coffee morning – together with Brian and Tricia and Maryta and Paul. Something of an EDP subs and spouses takeover. Robin had an eye appointment, so couldn’t make it.
The same day Naomi came to stay the night. Always nice to have her around: she had to see someone at UEA the next day; so she left around 12 and so did we, to hear a Julian talk at the library. Had some trouble finding where it was because they had switched it, which meant we were slightly late (and annoyed), but it was a good talk by Sheila Upjohn about how the Julian manuscript had survived in view of its “heretical” insistence that God loves us anyway. It involved some nuns in Cambrai and a few well-placed supporters.
Eleanor was in the audience; we had a chat afterwards.
Yesterday I went to see Paul, who thought I was someone named Kim (clearly my phone voice is not what it might be). I went mainly to ask him about a woman called Irene, but he couldn’t remember anything. However, while talking to Phil on the phone afterwards, it turned out that he did know an Irene, and it may turn out to be the woman Joy’s uncle was asking about (connected to Surrey Chapel way, way back). We shall see.
I was ringing Phil because he’s introduced me to a singer called Malcolm Guite, and I was giving him my reaction. He’s pretty good, actually.
Changing landscape in Norwich. The old brewery building land on KIng Street has been cleared, and temporarily you can see St Peter Parmentergate Church juxtaposed with the Castle in the background.
Yesterday we arrived at church just after 10am below grey skies, light rain and the familiar chilly wind. When we emerged at 3pm, after a rehearsal with Phil, Emily and her boyfriend Lawrence, the sun had come out and it was perceptibly warm. Spring had crept in. Later in the day Dot and I went for a walk beside the River toward Carrow Road and got quite hot (and very tired).
The rehearsing is taking its toll: my right arm is still sore from the fall and was aching a lot last night. But I have taken advice from the chemist, who says nothing is broken. I do find that I can do a bit more with it every day. This morning it’s not so bad, but Dot wants to rehearse again. Then Far Cry (all five of us) will rehearse at the venue at 6pm, and then – at last – play for real. It will be something of a relief.
Dot’s seminar at the UEA went very well (no surprise there), but the parish annual meeting was not so thrilling, although the food by Karen Wimhurst and friends was excellent. Several no-shows from both sides, but Adrian turned up and mopped up quite a lot of the spare food. St Augustine’s were hardly mentioned, but that was partly my fault. I had kind of expected Howard to be there, and so had not prepared a talk, though I would have said something if asked.
Howard did eventually put in an appearance – on Saturday night at St Peter Hungate, where Louise Øhrstrøm was speaking on Julian, as part of the Julian Week events. Very good talk, though you had to listen carefully, and it got very cold towards the end. Had a quick chat with her – she came to St Augustine’s when she was at UEA, but is now back in Denmark. Howard seems on top form after Sri Lanka – perhaps too enthusiastic, as his sermon on Sunday lasted about 45 minutes!
On Thursday a bit of cunning forward planning – I postponed my bath and was rewarded when (a) a parcel I was expecting arrived about 10am and (b) shortly after it, the Sonata alarm man arrived two or three hours earlier than scheduled. Dot was out; so I was able to answer the door and then have a late bath. Sometimes these things work out…
On Friday evening we were invited to No 11 by Des and Chris, the new owners. Sam, Chris and Ellie also showed up, which meant we found out less than we might have done about our hosts, since Sam is not slow in coming forward. Still, we enjoyed the evening. The white wine was nice.
Spent the week making a gradual recovery from my head infection. Haven’t quite got there yet, but will be giving it a good test in an hour, when we go for lunch with the Higbees at the Sugar Beat in Swainsthorpe. Still feel very clogged up and am prone to the occasional coughing fit.
I did, however, make it to church on Sunday, when Eleanor baptised a little Lithuanian girl called Gabriele. Her family were all in white, and a few had come over from Lithuania specially. We had a lunch afterwards, and I had a chat with those who could speak English, especially the slightly older daughter (5-6), who goes to Catton Grove school and can speak English, Lithuanian and Russian. Following the lunch (and the Lithuanians’ departure) Dot, Phil and I did a bit of a rehearsal which included my new song, Julian Blues. We were joined for a while on piano by Carrie.
Saw Carrie again last evening (5.30pm), when I attended Golden Dog Lane for a Carrie support group meeting. Only four of us (Carrie, Howard, Debbie H + me), but we had a good talk, and the cake tasted excellent. Dot had been at Mildenhall much of the day doing an RE quality mark assessment; so she had her evening meal while I was out, and I did my own after I walked back.
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.
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 at the BBC, with Mary Thrower and Julia Ann Houseago
I should probably not have contested the date of completion of the Guildhall during the lunchtime quiz at the CNS Class of 61 reunion event on Sunday. I have now been earmarked as a troublemaker and almost a sore loser, despite the fact that getting the question right would not have given our team anything like the total of the actual winners.
In case you’re surprised that I should have the faintest idea when Norwich Guildhall was finished, or care, the information happens to be part of the Paston Walk round Norwich that I devised some time ago. And it’s 1453, since you ask. However, the quizmaster had 1412, because that’s when the basic structure was completed. However, the windows weren’t put in till 1453, and if you think a house without windows is finished, I invite you to live in one. I tried to remain dignified about it, but my case comes up next week.
Just kidding. It was an excellent day, starting with a tour of the BBC and ending with a tour of said Guildhall (which should have settled the matter, but didn’t). In between we had an excellent lunch at Loch Fyne. We were accompanied by Fred and Sue, who had been intending to stay the devious night but in the end arrived early on the Sunday morning, following a mini-crisis with Sue’s aged mother. And about 34 others, of course.
On Monday, which was a bank holiday, Dot decided to spring-clean the garage. It was a pleasant, sunny day, but everything has gone downhill since then. On the plus side, the garage is much clearer, and I have sorted all my tools out. I have 27 screwdrivers. Dot is well on her way to sorting out her sewing basket (once you get started on this sort of thing … ). On the minus side, there is a massive amount of stuff heading for the tip or the charity shop, it’s raining, and one of my car tyres is looking very flat. I’ve tested it, and it’s about 14 psi. The question is, does it have a puncture, or is it just losing interest?
It’s Julian Week, and I’ve been to three talks at the library – one by Karen Smyth on the literary aspects, one by Sophie Cabot on the world Julian lived in (I thought it was going to be about Norwich, but no) and one today on the link between Julian and T S Eliot – Little Gidding in particular. The guy who gave today’s talk read Little Gidding, which was worth the walk through the rain on its own, but he had some interesting things to say too. Dot managed to get to two of the three, and we’re going to one tomorrow. Eleanor was there today, and Lucy Edwards yesterday.
The talks are in the library – an environment that turned out to be surprisingly loud. Today a man turned up 25 minutes late for a 20-minute talk, which meant he plonked himself down after the talk was supposed to have finished and about three minutes before it actually did. I’m sure he had a good reason for this, as I’m sure the mother did yesterday who thought a talk about a mystic writer was just the thing for her toddler. People are weird.
Returning from yesterday’s evening talk, Dot and I had an impromptu evening meal at Prezzos, which was unexpectedly nice.
We had our hair cut at the second attempt yesterday, and we’ve paid for our holiday in Iona, thankfully organised by Anna. I was astonished to discover that to get from Norwich to Glasgow by air, you have to change at Manchester. That’s like going by train to Brundall and having to change at Trowse.
Dot did the first of a series of P4C sessions at Little Plumstead school on Tuesday, and she had neglected to pick up her blood pressure pills on Saturday. So I was outside the chemist when it opened and took the pills to Little Plumstead. Also a large piece of card that wouldn’t fit in her car.
Heard today that Oliver took two wickets at cricket against another school and ran someone out with a direct hit. Excellent! Meanwhile Amy has been taking part in an athletics meet at Chesham. Good little mover.
After writing the last post, we were invited round to number 18 for a cup of tea, which turned out to be much more: sandwiches, cakes and so on. An afternoon tea that Phil would have been proud of, apparently. I’m sure she would. Phyll too. Had a very pleasant time talking to a number of people – especially the wife of the RC deacon who had led the service.
We were about to lose our record of going to the cinema every week this year when we decided to go for a walk at the end of Saturday afternoon – and during the walk decided to go to the cinema to see The Grand Budapest Hotel. Discovered at the end that it was from stories by Stefan Zweig, and it certainly had a mid-European feel to it – a vagueness about place but a fascination with unusual sequences of events. Ralph Fiennes was very funny, as was the bellboy, whose name escapes me. The hotel was funny too.
On Sunday we had Communion followed by a talk by Robert Fruewirth on Lady Julian and person-centred counselling. I spent most of it trying to work out what non-person-centred counselling would be like. I do have an antipathy to counselling generally, suspecting it’s often a kind of addiction indulged in by people who should just get a grip, but are too fascinated by themselves to step outside. He didn’t say anything very interesting, which is a pity, because Julian most definitely did.
Later Dot and I went for a walk at Woodbastwick in weather rather redolent of the previous Sunday, if marginally cooler. Cockshoot Broad is as tranquil as ever, but the dyke seems to have lost its water lilies. Or maybe it’s the wrong time of year. Is there a wrong time of year for water lilies? Bright sunshine, though, and restful.
Yesterday I went to the dentist and got more or less a clean bill of health, though he identified a little hole that he would like to have a go at with a laser. In a weak moment, I said yes. It’s happening next Wednesday. Not sure it’s totally necessary, but apparently it bled a lot. Meanwhile the rest of my body is up and down: last night I felt extremely odd in the middle of the night, but much better as soon as I got out of bed. Still have a funny head (oh yes) and a tight abdomen.
In the afternoon I went out to Mundesley for a meeting of the PHS trustees, arriving a little early. Not a bad meeting in the sun room, but with the door open. Have just finished the minutes, but it sounds very much as if we are going to get involved with another huge project. I may flee the country.
Meanwhile I have written a song called Farewell to Philomena, based loosely on our dear departed neighbour, but with some other elements of southern Ireland. Quite pleased with it, though Dot has doubts about the tune. She has a pain in her groin too (I don’t think it’s the tune), but has been spending the afternoon at Peterhouse School with her colleague Juliet (wife of Tom Corbett, ibid).
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.
Not so much a hiatus, more of an abyss. Been working hard for days (I know it doesn’t sound like me) and I’ve still got piles to do. Don’t really know how it happened. Also I haven’t been sleeping well: watching wrens in the garden at about 6am today. So I’ve let the blog/diary slip a bit.
It started with the Paston Open Day a couple of weekends ago. There was the set-up on the Friday, which wasn’t too bad, followed by a full day on the Saturday. That was also quite enjoyable. With Caroline and Rob read a couple of letters and poems from the pulpit, then partook of a tour of Paston Hall grounds with guidance from Lucy and the owners, Mr and Mrs Clark, an accommodating couple who also let us see into their cellars. There’s obviously still lots to be dug up in the garden of historical significance, but I’m not sure how much of their garden they want dug up. Been very good about it so far. It matters very much to certain of our society exactly where the hall used to be, but I can’t get worked up about it.
In the evening of the same day Dot and I went to Prezzos with the Robinsons and their friends, Jean and Alan from London, to celebrate Philip’s birthday. Had a Fiorentina pizza purely to refute Philip’s announcement that I had nothing else but pollo al funghi, and very nice too. we indulged in prosecco beforehand and they all returned for coffee afterwards, so it was quite a full day.
On the Sunday I preached in the morning in the absence of Dot, who had a concert at Hindolveston in the afternoon with the Sillars Orchestra. She needed to get there in good time to rehearse, so went on her own. I joined her about 15 minutes before the concert began at 2.15pm, and sat with my old school colleague Neville Thrower, whose wife Mary is also in the orchestra. Enjoyed the mixed music: the violins sounded particularly good.
All through the week I was catching up with mainly Paston paperwork: for instance, I had to write an hour’s talk which I am giving to the Norwich Blue Badge guides this week. It’s written, but I have to try to work out some pictures, if I can get hold of a projector. Then on Friday I was presented with some stuff to edit from South Norfolk Healthcare, and I also put together a brochure on the Pastons in Norwich and wrote a piece for my website, but I’m not sure about that yet. I’ve also been updating the Paston website, which threw a frustrating wobbly at one stage.
Meanwhile I won a good win at chess on the Monday (against Yosif Antonov) and attended the Paston Heritage Society annual meeting on the Tuesday (with Dot). This meant missing the church agm, but it was a good evening, with excellent sandwiches afterwards and some cider in the bar with Rob and Penny before. Good attendance of 19: I said a few words about Dragon Hall, and Peter Stibbons put on a much lengthier presentation about his research website and the DVD he’s putting together.
On Thursday (with the weather all week sunny and reasonably warm) I had another session with Sharon, who decided to book me in for an x-ray, as the shoulder was not showing much improvement. Afterwards Dot and I had lunch with the Eagles (Sue and Roger, not the group) at Mambo Jambo in Lower Goat Lane: they had a voucher and treated us. Really good time (we get on very well), and good food, but I took the rest of the day to recover from it. Sort of Mexican-American, and very filling.
A lapwing at Strumpshaw
On the Friday we had booked a tour of the Cathedral Library, which turned out to be extremely interesting, being much more extensive than I thought. It was led by librarian Gudrun Warren, who cuts an unlikely figure for a Cathedral librarian, but is very knowledgeable and helpful. I must pop up to the library one day and have a browse. The tour ended with scone and tea in the Hostry that was worth the price on its own (£5). Got talking to a nice couple from Beccles.
So a nice relaxing weekend? Not exactly, though it was very pleasant, except for the disappointment of Norwich City managing to lose to Aston Villa at home and put themselves in real danger of relegation. We heard this when we were walking around Strumpshaw Fen with David and Kristine, who were up for the weekend. This had meant of course that Dot couldn’t go to the match, so we used the ticket (from Jonathan) for Fred, who happened to ask on the offchance and picked it up just after lunch.
Another warm day, and Strumpshaw Fen was beautiful, though I was pretty tired by the end. Dot cooked in the evening, but on Sunday we had lunch at Prezzos after going to church and listening afterwards to a talk on Lady Julian by Denise Treissman, who was very stimulating and has a nice manner. After lunch we walked up to Julian’s shrine, which was surprisingly empty (it was Bank Holiday weekend, and Julian Week starts today). Popped into the garden afterwards. Very peaceful.
On Saturday morning, pre-Coomes, I had a call from Andrew’s named nurse Vicky at Warwick to see if we were coming over because they needed more clothes for him. Happily, they were willing to fetch them from The Langleys themselves. Feel I ought to go over, but not sure I have the energy. He has an additional medical problem, but we’re not sure if he might be trying it on. The nurse says that a prospective place for him had been located: Minster Lodge in Earlsdon. No doubt a visit will be arranged there for Andrew soon. He will have to agree it, and then there will be all the problem of moving his stuff. Phil is feeling better, and is keen to help, so that’s all good.
Jack Earl at 100. One of the others is his eldest daughter, Loveday.
Dropped Dot at Elm Hill on Thursday morning, where she met a violin man (sounds like the beginning of a folk song) who told her her violin was worth quite a lot of money and he would certainly bring it up to scratch for her. Meanwhile, he has lent her one that is unusable, so this morning at church she switched back to her electric violin, which worked well. Later in the day our piano tuner, Joe Logan, vouched for the guy, so that’s OK. He was not stringing her along.
Between violin and piano I called in at Dragon Hall to tidy up some loose ends concerning the Dragon Hall day next month. Sarah Power is very upbeat and bouncy, so I was feeling quite encouraged by the time I left. Dot and I went to Park Farm for lunch, which was even more relaxing: long time since we’d done that. In the evening Dot went to Little Plumstead, where she’s a governor, and my Find-a-Friend iPhone tracking device played up to such an extent that I got quite worried. It had her in the middle of a field for a long time. She assured me she wasn’t, and as she was still apparently in the middle of the same field after she’d been home for a while, I totally believe her.
On Friday, while Dot was at a Nafpht conference losing her glasses and the weather was getting more springlike, I created an account on Twitter for Margaret Paston and then spent a couple of hours wondering around taking pictures of Paston sites for my talk in a couple of weeks’ time. In the evening we went to the Hostry for the launch of a new edition of a Robert Llewellyn book on Julian. Liz French was there, as were Nicholas and Heather and of course Tim Mace. Nice refreshments; interesting event.
But it couldn’t compete with Saturday’s event, which was a party celebrating Jack Earl’s 100th birthday. We arrived at Sea Marge Hotel, Overstrand, in bright sunshine quite early and helped with the balloons, as well as getting tea and coffee. Jack looked unsurprisingly frail, but was relatively fit and clear-headed. He gave a short speech in reply to his son John and survived the photographs. We spoke to Nicola and Andy among others (Edna Jones, who lives at the Great Hospital, plus the owners of the home where Jack lives, plus various Earl relations).
Jonathan left early to go to the football match – a critical encounter with Reading. We left just before 3pm, and Dot managed to reach Carrow Road in time for the second half. Just as well. It was 0-0 at half-time, but her arrival sparked two quick goals and City eventually edged out 2-1 ahead. Are they safe? Who knows?
After church this morning Dot and I drove out to Mangreen to see if we could find her glasses, but without any success. Had a brief chat with William and Naomi, then came home for lunch. I sat in the garden and read some material that had backed up; so it must have been quite warm. Got chilly later, though.
House feels very empty today. Dot is out working under her free governor’s hat, I haven’t done much except put a BBC producer in touch with a St Peter Hungate trustee, and David and the children are back home (or in two cases, at school). They arrived here on Thursday, and we had a relaxing three days, because it was too cold to do anything much outdoors. Nevertheless Oliver and I did manage a lovely 2½-mile walk up through the cemetery and Lion Wood, while Dot and Amy went shopping and David ventured into the city.
We also fitted in a very nice lunch at Prezzos on the Saturday, before listening to Norwich beat Everton 2-1 with a goal in the last seconds. Amy and Dot made a cake, and several games were played. Oliver is progressing well with his chess. He took away my old iMac: not sure his father was overjoyed by this idea, because it’s quite big, but Oliver seemed happy enough, though Amy wanted half of it to go with the new clothes Nana had bought her. Both children still delightful and growing up quickly: both enjoy writing and are creative as well as lovely. After a bit of uncertainty, they left at around 7pm on the Saturday and had a straightforward journey home.
Sunday featured the first of our projected post-service talks, and it was an impressive start. Louise Øhrstrøm spoke on St Julian, who she has translated into Danish, and there must have been about 60 people there, about a third of whom attended the Communion beforehand. Nicholas was in his impresario mood, which I have to say he does very well. Louise’s talk was very good, despite being quite difficult to listen to because foreigners, however good their English, always have a different intonation and flow. Good response generally.
Earlier in the week, on Wednesday, we had an evening meal with the Higbees at Newton Flotman after having difficulty getting out of Norwich because of road works on King Street, creating traffic jams. Not feeling at my best ( I was a bit below par all week), but an enjoyable time as always.
Have finished Into the Silence, a book by Wade Davis on the attempts on Everest in the 1920s. Fascinating stuff and very thorough research. I learnt a lot about Tibet and the huge organisation that seemed to be required to even get near the mountain. The book casts doubt on several reputations, and makes others. The early section on the Great War left me extremely angry at the arrogant incompetence of the generals, especially Haig, but there was plenty of incompetence during the Everest expedition, not least from the people organising it safely at home (as Haig was safely behind the lines).
Having read the book, I doubt that Mallory and irvine reached the summit, though it’s not totally impossible. Amazing that Reinhold Messner (my favourite mountaineer) did the whole thing on his own without oxygen in 1980.
