My mother was born 100 years ago today, in Eaton village, just outside Norwich. She remembered seeing “the first car go up Eaton hill” and lived through huge changes – most significant of which for her was the early death of her husband at the age of 42, leaving her with three small boys to bring up. It triggered her move back from Coventry to Norwich (I preceded her by six weeks, staying with our former neighbours in Brian Avenue so that I could start school in the city).
Her father was a gardener. She was a teacher and lived to the age of 82. She was a very dutiful mother but in a way never got over her husband’s death. At home she was always there, and I appreciate most of all her decision not to oppose my going to London to live and work, though it would have been easy to put moral pressure on me to stay. I never asked her why.
Sadly she didn’t live to see her great-grandchildren, but she would have loved them as much as we all do. Dot and I went to Caddington on Wednesday – a beautifully sunny drive – to watch Oliver perform in his school concert (he led out the boys’ choir), to help put up the Christmas decorations and to have supper with David while they went to karate. Amy’s reading is coming on really well. We drove back quite late: I’m sure there’s something wrong with the car headlights, but I don’t know what. Today Dot has taken my car to Bradwell (near Yarmouth) for interviewing, so I hope she’s not too late back.
She spent Saturday in London with Anne, and thankfully a poor weather outlook turned out to be quite wrong. They went to the Degas exhibition at the Royal Academy, had lunch at Fortnum and Mason’s and then did a little shopping before catching the 21.30 train back. They got very cheap tickets – so cheap that they travelled first class, as befits first-class women.
The next evening we went to the Seagull again and I read half a dozen poems, as well as presenting a brown envelope that I hope contained a cheque to Lynn Mummery, the winner of the Two Valleys poetry competition, which I had judged. I was pleased to discover that she was quite a new writer, and I encouraged her to come to the next Seagull extravaganza in a couple of months’ time. We shall see.
The gas man cameth on Tuesday to service our central heating. He was a chatty guy who left his torch behind, but before that he checked all our radiators, fixed a couple of the valves that had broken and revealed how I could get the radiators in the living room warmer by shutting off a valve in the bedroom. You learn something new every day. He also replaced a pump in the airing cupboard which I believed had a sticking valve. I now suspect he may have replaced the wrong one, but hey, what can you do?
Off to the surgery in a minute to get my blood tested following a visit to the doctor last week. I’ve just finished seven days of antibiotics and was feeling quite good till I stopped taking them. Oddly, though, I think this may be a coincidence. I hope the blood will reveal something significant (but something that can be easily put right).