Looking at the wall paintings, prior to writing. Anna Metcalfe is obscured behind Lucy.
Quite relieved because I’ve just sorted out the problem of YouTube going silent. Followed advice on the net and it came back. Anyway… the weather is autumnal, Dot is at Thorpe High School and I am waiting till it stops raining so that I can go up and pay some cheques in.
Last time I posted we were about to go for compline and cake at Judy’s. That went very well: good to have such a nice group of friends. Only Claire didn’t make it. The rest of the week consisted mainly of catching up with a huge list of to-do items, none of which are of much interest. We did have our hair cut on Wednesday (postponed from Tuesday), but that was only moderately exciting.
On Friday we had a delicious meal at Cafe Rouge with Angela and Rodney. It was the city’s firework night; so it was a bit of a struggle getting up there. Several roads were barricaded off (even for pedestrians), and there was a persistent drizzle. The restaurant was packed when we arrived, but it emptied shortly afterwards, presumably with people going to the fireworks or to the theatre, where there was apparently an appearance by a Strictly Come Dancing star, to use the word loosely.
Angela and Rodney were late because they were in a long queue to get in the car park at Chapelfield, but they arrived halfway through our initial glass of champagne. Excellent food and very good service by a smiley Polish waitress. Had a good chat about Auntie Ethel’s remaining money and what to do with it. Angela is very conscientious and efficient. Afterwards they came back for coffee.
On Saturday I braved heavy rain to go out to Mundesley for w PHS writing workshop run by Anna Metcalfe from UEA (organised by Lucy). Fortunately the rain stopped by the time we had to go up to the church to look at the wall paintings on which our writing would be based. Eventually the sun came out, and Anne ran a good session. I was impressed. There were eight of us in all, including Diana George and Naomi.
Meanwhile Dot was watching Norwich beat Swansea 1-0; so that was all good. Neither of us was very hungry; so we had a teacake before walking up to St Andrew’s Hall in the evening for The Dream of Gerontius by Elgar, performed by the Norwich Philharmonic, with Paul Henderson one of the basses. Made you realise what a genius Handel was, but the performance was excellent. I liked the contralto soloist in the role of an angel, but Dot didn’t. Afterwards we went to the Hendersons for a drink and nibbles. Got to bed a bit late.
After the Remembrance service on Sunday I discovered that Howard was intending to step down as churchwarden. Apparently I had been suggested as a possible successor, but Dot has forbidden it. It is in fact no temptation at all – and anyway, they may not ask me. The problem is, no-one wants to do it. Ho hum.
We went to see Jessie in the afternoon and had mince pies. She is very good at mince pies. I had three.
A chilly and wet day today: a foretaste of autumn. But most days are still warm and summery; so we can’t complain. Yesterday afternoon we had drinks in the garden with Anne, who departs for a Mediterranean cruise on Thursday, hoping not to be confused with Libyan migrants. In the evening Dot and I went to the cinema and saw Trainwreck in the company of a largely young and female audience. We guessed we were not the target market, but it was nevertheless a very funny and rewarding film, with some wonderful dialogue.
Earlier in the day we extracted a large amount of bedding, mainly in the form of duvets and pillows, from the loft, spruced it all up a bit and took it to the Jubilee Hall (next to St Luke’s on Aylsham Road) for the benefit of some Congolese people who are gathering there in preparation for the funeral of two cousins who drowned in Thorpe Marshes nature reserve. The boy, aged 11 was called Bonheur and lived in The Lathes. The church gave his family £200 on Sunday toward expenses surrounding the funeral.
Later on Sunday Dot and I went to Walpole Old Chapel, near Halesworth, for the annual poetry reading. It was almost too well attended, because the reading started at 5pm and didn’t finish till well after 8.30pm. I was scheduled to read last, which – viewed in pop music terms – has to be good. It was a bit of a marathon, though, despite the half-time drinks and cake, and by the time I got to read it was not only extremely chilly but also nearly dark. There was only one light in the chapel. Still, we hung in there, despite the counter-attraction of a bird that got in and couldn’t get out, and I got a pretty enthusiastic reception. They even laughed at my jokes. I read three newish poems: After Sun, A Train Approaches and Proof of Heaven.
Elliott makes himself at home in the garden
Proceeding backwards, on Saturday Sam and Lucy came round with Elliott, and went into the garden, where Elliott had a great time pulling flowers apart and transferring stones into places they shouldn’t be. Dot got out David’s old train set and a tractor, both of which Elliott played with and then departed with. Meanwhile Norwich City scored their first win in the Premiership, beating Sunderland 3-1 away.
Earlier last week the main event was the arrival of Adrian and Clarissa by boat on Wednesday. We had a call from them while Dot and I were at Jessie’s in North Walsham. I was on my way to a Paston assignation, but Dot was on her way home after visiting Peter at Cromer for some p4c film editing. Dot dropped in on Adrian after she got back – as did Roger, who also been at North Walsham – and I completed the party when I arrived back from the Paston event. Good to see them: they had Menna’s three girls with them – Maddy, Olivia and Isabel. All delightful, especially Maddy, the oldest.
The following morning they came up for coffee and biscuits before departing for the city as Dot left for the dentist. They had a packed programme. In the last two days they had to get the boat back to Potter Heigham, via Breydon Water, visit Yarmouth (don’t ask me why) and call in on Jessie.
The Paston event mentioned consisted of an informal trustees’ meeting with food (mackerel pate) in the rather chilly garden of the Ship Inn at Mundesley, followed by tea and coffee at Lucy’s. She is not too good, since her last-ditch cancer treatment provoked an allergic reaction. It is hard to say how bad she is, because she always seems to come back strongly, but she didn’t feel well enough to proceed with Rob, Peter and myself to Bacton village hall, where we met the Bacton Historical Society with a view to their helping us in our NHL bid. We got an encouraging reception, and enjoyed a 40 min tape of Bacton people reminiscing about previous times. It was much more interesting than it sounds.
Hectic couple of days. Monday was completed by a walk to Howard’s, where I formed part of an advisory group for Carrie’s activities. This was followed by a meal with Howard and Dot, who had just arrived, and that was followed by a DCC meeting.
A surprise attender at the DCC meeting was Liz, who had a couple of complicated proposals as usual. We sort of agreed the first one, concerning her use of the hall for meditation sessions, but the second was so obscure that after she had presented it for about ten minutes, no-one knew what she was talking about. We suggested she produce a one-page paper on it.
I presented my financial report, and we agreed to contribute whatever was necessary to make up St Luke’s shortfall on their parish share, since we had received an £18,000 legacy and were temporarily affluent. Dot and I walked home afterwards. Very cold. Wished I hadn’t taken the large lever arch file.
Yesterday I visited Lucy after dropping Dot off for her ladies’ lunch at the Mercure Hotel on the ring road. Had a pleasant time with Lucy and Naomi, both of whom seemed quite well, and I now seem to have Lucy’s computer to take in for repair.
Back in Norwich, I picked up Dot and Sue from the lunch and dropped Sue in town. I then walked back into town to pick up the watch I had left for a new battery when I went in earlier to pay in cheques. On the way home I was asked directions to Earlham crematorium by three Essex people in a car. Since they were so far away from where they needed to be, I saw no alternative but to travel with them.
While doing so I discovered that they were already so late for the crematorium that it was pointless going, and so I took them to the Eagle pub on Newmarket Road for the wake. They were profusely grateful, but I declined a pint.
I then walked home again, met chess colleague Jon Burrows on the way and caught a bus outside Debenhams for the last section. Dot didn’t seem to have been too concerned about where I was (she had been at Morrison’s).
I then cooked my own dinner (if you remember, Dot had had a Christmas lunch with the ladies) and compiled a Christmas Compline from sources on the internet and elsewhere. At 8pm Judy, Vicky and the Archers arrived and we had some Christmas nibbles and mulled wine before listening to Dylan Thomas’s superb A Child’s Christmas in Wales, which David Archer had brought on CD, and then doing the Compline. Exhausted, Dot and I then watched A Question of Sport. I don’t know why.
As a follow-up to my urology visit last week I am now measuring the liquid that goes in and out of my body for a couple of days. This may sound straightforward, but it it isn’t. You may (or may not) know how much liquid is in a mug of tea, but I can’t remember the last time I drank a complete mug of tea. And so on…
Since the urology visit, I have also had an eye test; and an ultrasound scan on my stomach and large bowel. The former was straightforward and showed healthy eyes with only a slight deterioration in reading vision. The latter happened last night, in the middle of a wood on the outskirts of Norwich, as it was getting dark and threatening rain. Ominous but, in the end, straightforward and on time. No news, of course, until I visit the doctor next week, but apparently I have a small gall bladder. Fascinating.
In more exciting news, last Thursday we visited Dragon Hall, in company with the Hendersons (planned) and the O’dells (unplanned) to see Macbeth, performed in the round by theatre group Crude Apache. I have to say it was totally brilliant, with an excellent Macbeth and lady, and undoubtedly the most impressive witches I have ever seen. Fortunately we got through without anyone in the front row being injured by flying swords, but it was a close thing.
On Friday Joe Logan paid his six-monthly visit to tune our piano, this time at a more civilised hour (11.30am). Later in the day, more excitement as we journeyed to Lucy’s 60th birthday celebration, picking up Penny on the way. Part One was in the Corner Cafe in Mundesley, featuring tea, scones and cake; Part Two was at her house and included strange cocktails in teapots, which may have had something to do with the Prohibition theme. Don’t ask me why. It was all laid on by Simeon and Naomi and went with a bang, which would have been the fireworks.
There has been a lot of rain again, and there was plenty of it on Saturday, when we did little but dash to the supermarket. Sunday looked drier, but it was an illusion. After church (at which I preached on the wrath of God, but not in the way you might be thinking) the rain set in in earnest. We battled through it to Heydon, in the wilds of Norfolk, where Chronicle were putting on a private performance for James and Sue Knox Whittet and a couple of their friends.
Didn’t know what to expect, but it went really well. Islay Cottage was just right, and everything flowed nicely. Afterwards tea, sandwiches, cake and eventually a bit of singing, featuring friend Colin on concertina, some guitar from Caroline and myself and some violin from Dot. Dot and I did Farewell to Philomena, and James and I agreed that Runrig were a top band.
The start of a great photographic career: Phil Coomes with father David, early 1970s
Beautiful sunny winter’s day today, but not so much fun in the Thames Valley, where they have “the worst floods in a decade”. It may be because I’m getting old, but a decade doesn’t seem very long to me. Still, the flood are very bad (I’ve seen the pictures), and we’re fortunate to have avoided so much of the stormy weather. The United states is bitterly cold, with creeping ice (I’ve seen the video).
Dot is up at the surgery with the nurse, looking at the results of her blood test, and is intending to walk home. I’m standing by to pick her up in case of sudden rain or sudden tiredness. My own car us in the garage, having at last had its air conditioning fixed (I hope). This morning, after dropping it off, I walked to the chemist’s in Heartsease to pick my pills up – a distance of well over four miles. While at Heartsease waiting for the bus home I ran into Diane Bowman and Philip Mason, which just goes to show.
Yesterday we had a meeting of the Paston trustees at Mundesley. I chaired it in the absence of Rob, and there was lengthy discussion on the accounts, with Lucy and Peter failing to find common ground until I realised that the critical issue was not VAT, but Lucy’s failure to count one of the invoices, which she had received by e-mail but not been able to open (and therefore ignored).
The rest was straightforward, but afterwards Lucy told me that John Care had just died, and Naomi was in a mental hospital in London, having had a kind of nervous breakdown. She (Lucy) also has a chest infection. Life is never straightforward for her.
The previous day, while Dot was at Park Farm, I walked to the Ruchcutters for a meeting with Joy, publisher Adrian and printer Nick Gorvin about the tanka book. Very pleasant time, quite a bit of which was spent talking about chess, since three of us coincidentally were chess players. Had a Caesar salad and chips (!), then walked home after dallying for a while by the river with Joy. In the evening Dot had a particularly good orchestra session.
On Tuesday, before pea soup with the Tuesday Group, Rob called in to discuss the agenda for the Paston meeting and stayed for tea and biscuits.
Sunday and Monday were rather strange for me, because Dot had a P4C session at Stowmarket starting early on the Monday; so she stayed at Barbara’s overnight. As usual, I had loads of time to get things done and failed to do so. I did go out for a walk on the Monday, though. The P4C was as always very well received. Dot is a bit of a star, really.
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
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.
Part of Amy’s Christmas decorations, featuring Frosty and a bear
Time is passing frighteningly quickly. Either that, or I’m moving frighteningly slowly. I spend too much time sorting out difficulties, usually computer-related, and being distracted – also computer-related. However, today I have managed to send out the invoices for use of the hall and have created a leaflet for use in the alternative carol service. The latter shows once again that my printer is not working properly, and several attempts to clean it have not helped. I may have to get a new one. Or use Dot’s.
A storm is brewing, with high winds already here and the promise of a storm surge bringing flooding on the coast comparable to that of 1953. You always think it’s not going to happen, but they probably thought that about Lyonesse. Well, actually they probably didn’t think about it at all.
Happily we travelled to Caddington yesterday and not today. The occasion was Amy’s participation in the Beechwood concert for senior citizens (that’s us). She played her cello and also sang with a choir. Afterwards Dot and I gorged ourselves on sandwiches and mince pies with cups of tea. We then took Amy home, and I returned with David for Oliver, meeting Natalie and Emma. We stayed for an hour or so, then had to hurtle off (much to Amy’s disgust) to get Dot to an orchestra rehearsal. We were a bit late.
On Tuesday Dot and I had a scone and drink in John Lewis’ cafe before meeting Judy outside and walking down with her to the NRO, where Lucy was defying illness and injury to give a very good talk on John Fenn – the penultimate lunchtime lecture of the Paston exhibition. Rob and Penny were there, as was Diana as Lucy’s chauffeur. Afterwards we walked home and bumped into Lena outside Morrisons.
On Sunday I preached on optimism, and in the afternoon we drove to North Walsham, the cemetery and Jessie (not simultaneously). She was a bit below par because Ray’s funeral was the following day.
Meanwhile Phil and Joy have rushed down to Southampton because Lucy has had a problem following the birth of Elliott and is having treatment. An anxious time for all of them. The baby seems to be fine, though.
Here I am waiting to have a sigmoidoscopy. It doesn’t happen till early this afternoon, but already my stomach is churning (actually it’s being doing it for days). Not sure if it’s foreboding or an actual stomach upset. The operation is minor, of course, but it’s the bit before and after I’m not keen on. I’ll keep you posted if I survive.
Dot is out visiting a school but will be back to accompany me to the hospital, in case I need sedation, which I am much in favour of. I am totally against unnecessary pain, and I’m not all that much in favour of necessary pain.
Happily our heating is back on. The boiler fan broke on Tuesday, leaving us with an electrically powered group meal in the evening. Quite cosy in fact, but the rest of the house was decidedly chilly. The gas man turned up the next day at 10am, at precisely the same time as our hairdresser, who had been rescheduled from Monday. He took some time to work out the problem, but then happily was able to fix it.
Meanwhile Dot was rather nervously having her hair cut short: it looks good. Mine is pretty short too, but it pales into insignificance beside Dot’s. Hair and boiler were both sorted in time for Dot and I to drive to the NRO to hear Anna’s “Paston Treasure” talk, which as very good. Judy was also there and so, surprisingly, was Lucy, rising from her sickbed and driven by Diana.
In the evening, while Dot was at orchestra, I walked up to the Maddermarket and got a ticket to see The Seagull, in which two of my former colleagues at ECN were performing. The theatre was sparsely populated, but the acting was good, though I think the guy who shot himself at the end (spoiler alert) should have done it much earlier. Trevor Burton was excellent, as was David Newham. The older woman/famous actress didn’t help the plot by being clearly more attractive than the young Nina who was supposed to be luring Trevor away from her.
I nearly missed the opportunity of seeing the play because I was unexpectedly asked to play chess for the A team in the evening, but this proved to be a false alarm: one of the regular players recovered from a bad back and beat the Norfolk champion. So that was all good.
Yesterday I called on the parish treasurer, Susannah, who lives in a house overlooking Carey’s Meadow in Thorpe. A totally stunning view. We had a conversation about splitting the parish share, which we agreed should be 70-30. I have no idea whether this is right or not. I suspect not. (Definitely not. – Ed. mf)
Later, while Dot was shopping after lunch with Sue Eagle and friends, I drove to Paston for a meeting of the trustees. A painfully slow process – and that was just getting there. The meeting itself was OK, though I was surprised to hear that Lucy was disputing the bill from the UEA, although she’d told me she was paying it. I am having nothing more to do with it.
I am now backed up. I have an external hard drive . If only that were true: in fact it is the computer that is backed up, now being linked to Time Machine, as it was designed to be. I myself am struggling along with the same old operating system that is showing signs of wear and tear. And I can’t get back to what I used to do.
I can’t even see very well, because I have new varifocal glasses that are designed to be clear in three different ways, but are in fact unclear in at least three, probably more. This morning I had to put my old reading glasses on to read the paper.
Oh, well. I’ve managed to walk about four miles today – mainly to the Norfolk Record Office to hear a talk by Elizabeth McDonald on “Books the Pastons Read”. Similar to the one she did at Dragon Hall, but not the same. Quite interesting, as Stephen Fry might say.
Last night we had a mammoth PCC meeting to discuss the increase in the parish share and how we were going to meet it. One of those dreadful meetings where you wish you were somewhere else. If church is about raising money, I’m not interested. I have a meeting scheduled with the new treasurer for the parish, one Susannah McGuire. I was relieved to find that she probably knows less about church accounting than I do. Sadly, that is not much. I warmed to her.
Earlier, before I got my non-focal glasses, I had a visit from Adrian Bell, the potential publisher of our tanka book. He seemed reasonably impressed. It’s just about done; I’m now waiting to hear from him what other information he needs to go in it, such as price, and whether it should have a spine – which is about as ironic as you can get.
After the piano tuner left (see last post) I went out to Rockland to see Geoff. The weather was pretty cold, but dry, and he was keen to walk in the garden. So we did it. A little unsteady, but in the circumstances remarkable. He had his carer, Lisa, with him, and she was lovely – made tea and provided (Sophie’s) fruit cake.
Next day (Friday) I went out to see Lucy, who continues to recover slowly from her cracked ribs. She has a personal assistant (carer) called Priscilla, who is also lovely. The two of us tried to put up a washing line in the garden: she was much better at it than me. She is also gradually organising the house, which will be interesting. Meanwhile the kitten and the rabbit have a peculiar relationship: the kitten puts its paw through the bars of the rabbit cage and touches the rabbit, which ignores it. Doesn’t try to get out of the way – just ignores it.
Which is what I wish I’d done with the idea to employ a UEA intern for the Paston Heritage Society. This has now reached a ridiculous stage, with the lad doing very little work but clocking up huge numbers of hours. We received a bill from the UEA which Lucy is refusing to pay. Anna is very worried. I am now retiring from the conflict and letting them get on with it, which is a pity, as they’re both friends. At the moment.
On Saturday it was still cold , but Dot and I had tickets for Norwich v West Ham. In fact we had three tickets, so we invited Phil, who called round by chance the previous afternoon. City played very badly in the first half, so at half time I predicted we would win 3-1. Amazingly, we did. I am now regarded as a prophet. I am without honour in my own country, of course.
Rodney, Angela and Oliver line up for pictures at the wedding
Yes, it’s Tuesday again, and a small pause for breath. Have just had another go at booking airline seats for our Florida holiday – this time a bit more successfully, having obtained our British Airways booking number (strangely omitted from our original documentation). I have also been promised a refund from the agents for seat booking which didn’t happen.
This followed an all-action weekend, beginning on Friday with a day of interviewing UEA students for an internship at the Paston Heritage Society. This was made a little more tiring by having to fetch Lucy from Paston and return her there, and by the chosen candidate being constantly unobtainable by phone afterwards. When I did eventually contact her (by e-mail), she had just accepted a full-time job, so withdrew from the internship. We now have our second favourite, an earnest young lad who seems nevertheless to be extremely competent and has a car!
In the evening Dot and I went to the Norwich Christian Resource Centre to hear a talk by Allison Barnett, of Jews for Jesus, who rather unexpectedly turned out to be a brilliant speaker, deserving of a much bigger audience.
The next morning we met Heather Savigny and Simon for breakfast – something I would consider for only a selected few people – at Grounds coffee bar on Guildhall Hill. Had a teacake and as always some great conversation. They are scheduled to move to Bournemouth next month, but have already found an Indian restaurant there. We have been promised an invitation.
Later in the day was the long advertised event of autumn: Donna’s marriage to Andy at Oaklands Hotel. Many West Midlands accents in evidence, but also most of the surviving Beales family, with the exception of Rosemary. David, Oliver and Amy came up from Caddington, and we found ourselves sitting at the same table as Richard, Maddy and Darcy – lovely girls. Great opportunity to chat with Richard, the next generation coming to the fore. Justin took the official photos, and Heidi sat next to David. Angela was a witness. Vicki and Graham were also there, as was Rodney’s son Chris and his wife Sarah. Great food and drink from Oaklands: we used a taxi both ways. Oliver gained an admirer – four-year-old Darcy, who followed him everywhere. I think he quite liked it.
Our view of the O2 stage
No rest on Sunday, when we were off to London by 10am for the second major event of the weekend: a day with the Coomes, followed by a Leonard Cohen concert at O2. This was all paid for by our ever-generous hosts, including the taxi back from O2 to Leyton, a not inconsiderable sum to which we contributed a small amount behind David’s back. Cohen was as ever brilliant. Here is his set list:
Dance me to the end of love; The Future; Like a bird on the wire; Got a little secret; Everybody knows; Who by fire; Where is my gypsy wife tonight?; The darkness; Amen; Come healing; Lover, lover, lover. After the interval Tower of song; Suzanne; Chelsea Hotel#2; The Partisan; In my secret life; Alexandra leaving (sung by Sharon Robinson); I’m your man; 1000 kisses deep (read as poem); Hallelujah; Take this waltz; then as encores (!) So long Marianne; Going home; First we take Manhattan; Famous blue raincoat; If it be your will (sung by the Webb Sisters); and one verse of Closing Time.
It got better and better, and the O2 was a good venue, though the loos are laughably inadequate: there was a huge queue for the men’s toilet(!). Some peculiar people in the audience: one middle-aged man in a hoodie kept going out for a pint of beer; presumably he thought he was at a cricket match. Another couple brought a baby, but it didn’t last long. Probably preferred Iron Maiden.
Next day we were about to leave the flat much later than expected (Audrey’s partner, Bent, rang to say she was too unwell to be visited) when David arrived home, also not feeling well – he had fallen in the bathroom the previous morning and damaged his ribs. We were on our way out, so continued, assuming (rightly, I think) he would want to be left alone.
Dot at Elveden, waiting for breast of guinea fowl
On our way home we were fortunate to avoid a major hold-up on the A11 Elveden stretch when a car transporter slipped into a ditch and the road was eventually closed. We had been held up by a broken-down car short of Elveden, then stopped for lunch at the farm restaurant. When we emerged there was a huge delay at the lights, and we just managed to squeeze out after ten minutes or so. I suspect the lorry had gone into the ditch trying to get round the car. There ought to be some kind of penalty for causing such major hold-ups (unless it’s me, of course).
The major event of the previous week was my lunch with Joy McCall and a prospective publisher of a book of Norfolk-linked tanka. We met at the Rushcutters and eventually I had adequate fish and chips to match Joy’s fish pie. The publisher (of a smallish outfit called the Mousehold Press) was Adrian Bell, who turned out to be a chess player. The idea, it transpired from Joy, was for Adrian to publish at her expense a number of our tanka strings with photographs of Norfolk to which they were linked. I am supposed to get a running order together and send it to Adrian, which I need to do quickly. Together with a number of other things.
That was on Wednesday. On Thursday I made my second attempt of the week to visit Geoff in hospital (on Tuesday he was somewhere else getting his toes looked at). This time I coincided with Nicholas in the car park, but we were told Sophie had taken Geoff out in his wheelchair. Nicholas knew where they were likely to be, but they weren’t there, and after he left I spent some time scouring the area, in vain. Still, the stroll through the cemetery was quite enjoyable.
Meanwhile, I’m getting tantalisingly close to finishing Amy’s story. This week?
