Tag Archives: oxburgh

Getting physical

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cyclists
The leaders in the Tour of Britain sweep into Riverside Road

Feeling rather battered. No, Dot hasn’t taken to beating me up: I’ve just spent three days doing largely physical work, which is pretty unusual, and my body is feeling the effects. It’s 5pm, and I already feel ready for bed. Not that I shall go to bed, of course. That would be ridiculous. Anyway, the physical work is over for a while.

It started on Thursday, when I was called on to go to Oxburgh Hall, to help take the Paston exhibition down. Lucy was so ill that she had to go to bed, and Jo Berry was concerned that she and her husband would have to do it all on their own. I, meanwhile, had been intending to help Dot set up St Luke’s for the visit of John Bell, from Iona, who was coming down for a two-day event. I also wanted to see the Tour of Britain sweep through Norwich, so it seemed impossible to fit everything in, as the artists who might have helped at Oxburgh (Annette, Mike, Martin) were down in Brighton for an exhibition there. In the end, Dot said she could manage without me in the morning, and I drove to Oxburgh (about an hour away), arriving about 10.30am. I took all the pictures down and cleared the screens before anyone else arrived, and we managed to get everything done by noon, when Teri arrived with help to take away her heavy stained glass piece.

After a cup of tea I made the journey home, arriving just after 1pm, in time for a quick lunch before walking with Dot down to Riverside Road to take up position for the ToB cyclists to arrive. We were there for about half an hour with nothing much happening, but then a squadron of motor cycles swept through, clearing vehicles out of the way ruthlessly, and the first two cyclists arrived rather suddenly. I just had time to snatch a picture before they were away. It was another five minutes before the peloton came through and I got some more pictures. They were followed by all the team cars, having a great time screeching around the Foundry Bridge corner.Then they were gone, and things returned to normal. Amazing organisation really. There was a King of the Mountains section on Mousehold, which must have been more King of the Molehill, I should imagine. The two leaders seemed far out of reach of the others, but by the time they reached Yarmouth they had been caught, and the stage was won by a sprinter.

In the afternoon, Dot and I returned to St Luke’s to finish setting up, then went to Morrisons to get extra provisions. The next day these proved woefully insufficient, and I went first to Lidls and then to Spar to supplement what we had. Even that was not enough: more milk was obtained by Anna later in the day: we used about 35 pints of milk each day for the 140 people attending the event. And that was just in tea and coffee. No food was supplied.

Anyway, back to Thursday evening. Dot and I got to the cathedral early to distribute leaflets, which  proved quite wearing on the back, as there were about 450 chairs to cover, and four leaflets per chair. The session led by John Bell (Different Voices, Same Song – exploring the nature of harmony in community, using music as a metaphor) was brilliant. Despite bring very tired, I was completely captivated and surprised how soon it ended: it was in fact about 90 minutes.

He was also superb in a different way at St Luke’s. Very easy to listen to: he has a relaxed style and a Scottish accent, with a great sense of humour. He spoke mainly using stories, which as one or two people remarked was rather like the parabolic method of Jesus. Quite radical, but compelling in what he said because his aim was not to provide convincing arguments, but to express a point of view which we might be interested in. As a result, we were.  His sane comments about caring for the earth, equality for everyone, generosity and concern for exploitation of people in other parts of the world were mixed with amusing stories about the nature of Christianity and the need to avoid confrontation over issues of theology and who is right. A very likeable man, without any pretensions, and also a gifted musician who could get everyone singing using only his voice (and an occasional burst on piano). On a very superficial level reminded me a bit of Denis Lawson in Local Hero.

Being helpers proved quite demanding, but we managed to hear a lot of what he said, and he was the sort of man you wished everyone could hear. Dot and I had to pay another visit to Morrisons for provisions on the Friday evening, and we followed this by having a meal at Prezzo’s, since that involved little effort. The clearing up on the Saturday was particularly tiring, as many of the helpers had to leave early and there was a lot of furniture moving to accomplish. Did I mention Dot was in charge of all this? She got a public thank-you and two bottles of rather pleasant red wine, one of which we sampled today.

Oliver
Birthday boy Oliver, 8

Of course the previous Saturday was even more significant, as it was Oliver’s eighth birthday. What a star! Dot and I drove down in the morning and met David, Oliver and Amy at the Harvester on the A5 – a favourite eating place of the children. They didn’t know we were coming and were pleased to see our car in the car park. Nice moment. Pleasant meal, and then back to the house for the afternoon, until Vicky arrived to pick them up about 5pm. We stayed for a few hours for tea with David , and then drove home. It was good to see Oliver on his birthday. He got an iPod Touch from his Dad and a variety of things from us. He is growing up fast, as children do.

A couple of other things last week: I performed badly in our pre-season chess tournament, scoring only 2/6 in a rapid-play event, and then visited Kathleen on Tuesday at Dereham Hospital, where she was sent for rehabilitation. She is doing very well. I managed to get in touch with her stepdaughter after failing at first on the number she’d given me. I used the mobile number Paul obtained from Kathleen later in the week. I now have her e-mail address. Hope I’ve got that right.

Among the people at the John Bell event were Claire, nee Osborne, daughter of Andy and niece of Lily from Surrey Chapel days; Di Barrell and her husband, parents of former EDP trainee Nicky and friends of Marion WIlliams; and Bridget Fosten, second wife of Ian Fosten, who we knew as governor of Tuckswood and from visiting him in Lindisfarne many, many years ago.

Same job description

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three in a bed
Three in a bed, and the little one hid up. Dot and grandchildren in the West Runton caravan.

As waste disposal lorries queue up in the street outside, the Oxburgh Hall exhibition approaches rapidly. Rupert Mallin has just appeared with his print, which I will transport to the Hall tomorrow, together with Martin Laurance’s pictures, which he delivered last night. Rupert is happy with his new teaching schedule at City College, but most full-time employees have to reapply for their jobs. This has always seemed an iniquitous device. If your job is no longer there, you are redundant and entitled to compensation; if your job is there, then there should be no legal way to remove you from it unless you’re dishonest or incompetent. Changing the job description slightly is in reality ending one job (redundancy) and introducing a new one.

Happily I am unlikely ever again to be in such a position, though I suppose Dot could change my job description. Would I have to reapply? The suspense is killing me. Have just heard my aunt Kathleen is in hospital with a broken hip after a fall, so will probably pay her a visit this afternoon. That will teach her.

Yesterday was a lovely warm day. Dot went merrily and with memory lapse to Swaffham with her P4C hat on, leaving her colleague waiting for her at the Park and Ride in Norwich. Numerous phone calls later (neither Barbara nor I knew which school they were going to, and Dot had her mobile phone off) the pair were reunited just in time. I have been preparing my poetry workshop for Oxburgh, but in the afternoon delivered a chess game to Mike Read (my rather exciting loss on Monday to Jon Burrows), walking to Knowsley Road by way of Mousehold Heath. Met up successfully with Dot at Phil and Joy’s to deliver Joy’s birthday present and have a long discussion on miracles. At least, that’s what happened.

On Sunday I led the service and preached, with Dot doing the prayers. Everyone else who does that kind of thing was away, either at Greenbelt or elsewhere, so there wasn’t much choice. Afterwards Vicky M said she had been completely healed of a back problem after we’d prayed for her on the Tuesday last week. This Tuesday we had a large gathering for the meal (no connection between last two statements) when we’d been expecting very few. Dot’s friend Carrie came, which was nice. Had a good discussion about prayer, miracles and what we should or could be doing.

Went to see June W earlier in the day. Her problems are still proving recalcitrant, but she was cheerful, and we had a good time with her. Her house and garden are so beautifully organised, sand she’s brave enough to use bright colours on wall and furniture. Her son William is a brilliant artist in leather – produces wonderful things.

Somewhere in the middle of all that (Saturday, actually) we had our hair cut. Thought I’d better mention that.

Wasp sting and afterwards

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Jennie
Jennie Coomes at Walcott

Busy, busy. That may be why I feel heavy and listless. Have just been to Carrow Road with Dot to book tickets for the Swansea match for David, Oliver and myself. Only a mile and a-half there and back, and I feel exhausted. Am having my ears syringed shortly, but somehow I suspect that may not have any effect on the exhaustion. Haven’t been sleeping too well and have been having rather unsettling dreams, which is very unusual for me. Weather is still fairly warm, but not without some cloud and rain.

My eye test on Thursday went well: seeing is not a problem, and no new glasses necessary. No explanation as to why I have this burning sensation in my eyes in the evenings sometimes. Jennie arrived on Thursday afternoon: first time we’ve seen her for a while. Her arrival was somewhat marred by an event in the city shortly before her arrival: Dot was stung by a wasp. She was a bit worried at first because of Roger’s anaphylactic near-death experience, but was reassured by a pharmacist. However, the sting did become infected and turned quite unpleasant: swollen arm, very hot, very itchy. Had a bad night and went to see a nurse practitioner on Friday morning, just after I left for Coventry with Phil to take Andrew out on his birthday. Periodic phone calls revealed that she was not at all a happy bunny, and so it was fortunate that Jennie was there to keep an eye on her. The area of infection spread up her arm, and in the evening she called the emergency number, only to be reassured that the penicillin would not have kicked in yet. So a second sleepless night followed, and it was not until Saturday that the infection stopped spreading. It has still not quite subsided, and she is still taking the pills.

Meanwhile, Phil and I had a difficult drive to Coventry, having to take a diversion to avoid a huge hold-up on the A14 between Cambridge and Huntingdon – my least favourite stretch of road in the country and yet another example of short-sighted planning by the highway authorities. It’s the place where all the traffic going from the east to the Midlands and from London to the North-East has to share a two-lane dual carriageway. Who would have guessed that wasn’t enough road space? Not the highway planners, of course.

Andrew, however, was very well, and we took him for an excellent meal to Friday’s before driving to Corley Rocks, which we reached successfully despite Andrew’s directions or, in one case, because of them. One of Andrew’s favourite spots, it’s a bit tired but has potential. Unfortunately its potential is unlikely to be realised. The journey home was much easier.

On Saturday Dot and I took Jennie for a drive round north Norfolk. Jennie had a bad foot and Dot was still feeling groggy and very uncomfortable, so the ride was about the only option. We started by having a look at Paston Church, then lunched at the Ship in Mundesley (excellent again, with the waitress taking an interest in Dot’s arm and providing a welcome bag of ice. I had fish and chips again, and the other two had an imaginative starter followed by something sweet. We went on to Blakeney, where we decided we were not hungry or thirsty enough to take in any more and headed for home, just as it started to rain hard. Went via Holt and across country to Aylsham. Interesting. On Sunday we all went to church and tried out Nicholas’s new liturgy. Jennie returned home in the afternoon.

Annette
Annette at Oxburgh Hall

Monday was a beautiful warm and sunny day, and I drove to Oxburgh Hall to reconnoitre for the art/poetry Paston workshop in early September. I met Annette there, and we spoke to the NT’s top woman on site, who was very helpful. Annette and I had lunch in the cafe, which was a cut above, then looked at the nearby church. All fascinating stuff, and useful insofar as we now have a clearer idea of what we’re doing. Not clear, but clearer. Quite a pleasant journey there and back on the Watton road.

Tuesday started rainy for the visit of Pat and Barry Clayton and a couple of their friends. Pat was a college friend of Dot’s, and it was a very long time since we’d seen her. After an expansive cold lunch the rain had stopped (as forecast) and we all walked round the riverside path to the Playhouse, and then back down Elm Hill and through the Cathedral. A pleasant enough stroll, but again I felt very tired at the end. They left at about 6pm to return to their holiday address in the Harleston area, and Dot and I went to Vicky’s for Tuesday group. Tried to pick up Harriet, but she was in considerable pain in her legs, and Dot stayed with her while she rang the doctor. Also called in on the way back: the doctor hadn’t yet arrived, but she was resting and feeling a bit better.

Have finished reading a book by someone who visited the highest points of all the counties in the UK. Not nearly as good as it might have been, unfortunately. Now I’m on to Robert Holdstock’s Avilion, sequel to the wonderful Mythago Wood. Now he is a good writer. Even David Gemmell says so (on the cover).