On an uncharacteristically springlike day last Thursday, Dot and I decided to go to Walsingham for the snowdrop walk. As she needed to go to the chemist first to obtain relief for persistent mouth ulcers, we took a somewhat unusual route, crossing to Aylsham and then taking the road past Blickling Hall to Saxthorpe (near Little London) and then on through Melton Constable, the only Midland coal-mining town in Norfolk. Not really coal-mining, of course: it just looks like it. The railway is really to blame: oddly, Melton Constable used to be the hub of Norfolk’s railway system. Perfectly positioned in the middle of nowhere. What were they thinking?

From there a beautiful high road (high for Norfolk, that is) stretches across to the main Cromer-Lynn road and from there it was a short distance north to Walsingham, via Great Snoring. Now that’s what I call a Norfolk village. Negotiating the maze that is Walsingham, we found the car park and had a lunchtime snack – deliberately small to make up for the lovely but substantial meal we had enjoyed the previous evening at Cafe Rouge in Norwich, where I at last managed to make use of my Gourmet Society card. I do like Cafe Rouge: the food is always good, and the service friendly.

Walsingham was pretty crowded for February – it was half-term, after all – but the walk in the priory grounds (they call it an Abbey, but technically it isn’t) was very pleasant, despite some slight muddiness. The temperature was mild enough for me to leave my anorak in the car, and I was glad I did. Short look round the museum and old courthouse afterwards, and of course we had to pop into the shop, where I unexpectedly bought a book critiquing Stephen Hawking’s theory that we don’t need God any more. I’ve already read it (it was very short), and found it lucid, convincing and surprisingly funny.

I’ve also finished another couple of books recently: Surface Detail by Iain M Banks, and The Lost Honour of Katharina Blum, by Heinrich Böll (translated from the German). I love Banks’ SF Culture novels, and this was up to par, though unnecessarily gruesome in places. The Culture civilisation itself is a wonderful idea, which I just tried to describe here, but have deleted my description on the grounds that it sounds silly when the Culture is in fact marvellous. I like to think of them as angels, but when they are in fact massive ships with lightning-fast Minds, they’re probably not everyone’s idea of an angel. Take it from me, they’re a lot better than they sound.

I’ve always liked Böll, and this short novel is typically crisp and typically Continental, in a good way. It’s about the way the media can distort and destroy someone who is basically innocent, but done in a deadpan, unemotional style. I’m not sure any modern European newspaper would sink to the the depths portrayed here, but the warning note is true.

Very wet journey to Martham on Friday night, standing in as a guest for our chess C-team, who often seem to run out of players. Odd game: missed a move early on that would have given me a big advantage, then nothing much happened for a long time until I recklessly broke through and gave him some play as a result. Then made a very bad move that accidentally turned out much better than it should have, and I would almost certainly have won in a complex position, but I was very short of time. I think I was right to accept his offer of a draw, because I would almost certainly have lost on time otherwise. On the way home in pouring rain I almost aquaplaned off the A47, but just held it on the road. So I nearly lost twice.

On Saturday we met Heather Savigny and Simon for lunch at Bishop’s, which is quite a high-class restaurant run by the father of one of Sam’s friends. Excellent meal of the Green-Inn type. Planning to take the Higbees there as a thank-you for Allan lighting up our loft. Spent a lot of time discussing Heather’s fight for equal rights at the university, which is apparently run by intransigent white males. Surprising: I had thought UEA was more radical.

I did sermon at church yesterday on part of Romans 8, and the process going on in creation. Paul writing about entropy roughly 1800 years before it was discovered (or given a name, anyway). Today Dot is en route to Eltham College for a P4C session with Barbara. I should get a lot done, or, if previous experience is anything to go by, not much.