Tag Archives: oxnead

Oliver hits a dozen

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When I dropped in at St Peter Hungate yesterday – it was open as part of the annual Heritage celebrations – someone asked if it was a special day, since people seemed to be celebrating. I quickly pointed out that it was my grandson’s birthday, than which you can hardly get more special. Oliver is 12, and a student of Sir Henry Floyd Grammar School at Aylesbury. We spoke to him on Facetime this evening. He seems to be having a good time. Will make further checks tomorrow.

Hungate had an exhibition about the first world war which was small enough to be both accessible and moving.  It also had trustee Carol Hardman, who turned out to be a friend of Rob Knee’s and a bit of an enthusiast. So that was good.

I had dropped in after dropping out of Elizabeth McDonald’s Paston lecture at the Maid’s Head, mainly because I couldn’t hear it and partly because I’d heard it before. I dropped back in at the end and chatted to her. The hotel had not served her well by putting her in a room that was too small for the impressive turnout and not providing her with a microphone. The audience drifted into the vestibule and showed commendable persistence in sticking with it.

In a slightly less popular event, we held our monthly cake and compline with the Archers, Vicky and Judy at Number 22. We also invited Vicky Lenton, but that was a mistake. Those e-mail addresses can get you into an awful lot of trouble. I could have invited someone I hardly know who actually turned up, for instance. As it was the usual suspects ate some cake that Dot had baked and pronounced it very good.

Going back in time, last Sunday saw us at St Augustine’s, with me leading the service and Dot doing the intercessions. Seemed a long time since we’d been there. As usual the congregation doubled the moment the clock struck 11. In the evening Dot and I went to the Seagull to hear James Knox Whittet and others. I read four poems, and Dot got into conversation with Anne KW, telling her about Oxnead. As a result I invited them, but they were unable to come. However James wants to be involved with Chronicle, so that’s all good.

On Monday we had the usual poor turnout at the DCC meeting, with only Nicholas, Howard, Ian, Dot and I attending. I gave a financial report: a crucial issue s was left unresolved because of the small turnout, but there you go. Nicholas’ departure date is still up in the air, and the strain may be telling.

For some reason I can’t remember I had agreed to play chess on Tuesday, taking part in what is termed a 100-board match, but what is really ten ten-board rapid matches, in which a combined force of Norwich Dons and Broadland swamped a Norfolk and Norwich team at Langley Prep School, winning 61½-38½. I contributed a measly four points to our total, playing by far my best game in the first round against a strong junior and then gradually deteriorating in an interesting variety of ways. I am not really built for rapid chess, but at least they don’t grade it.

On Wednesday Chronicle had a dress rehearsal for Oxnead, and I reluctantly donned a long waistcoat and one or two other things. Painful. It emerged that Caroline is likely to be leaving to live in Cumbria – at least for a while – so the long-term future of the group hangs in the balance. On the plus side, James Knox Whittet may join us. But we need a woman. (Notice the restraint involved in my lack of comment there?)

Afterwards I went to see the doctor and as usual failed to communicate what exactly was wrong with me. Still, I am having numerous blood tests (or one blood test for numerous things) and may be referred to a urologist. I’m not sure that’s what’s required, but I can offer no alternative. My daily intake of Lansaprozole has been doubled, and I’m not sure about that either. On the plus side, my blood pressure is going in the right direction.

I am just back from an unsuccessful foray to the Guildhall to hear a talk on Norwich murderers. The organisers went one better than yesterday: this time it was full to capacity a quarter of an hour before it started. Planning a few additional murders, I went instead to Pull’s Ferry and saw the Watergate Room, which I thought was not normally open, but which is in fact open every weekend during summer. Interesting fact: the ferry closed in 1943; it was there because Bishop Bridge was originally open only to people visiting the Cathedral and its environs.

Meanwhile Dot has abandoned her cake-making to meet Sue Eagle in the city. Later we head for Lavenham with the Hendersons.

Garage gives up ghost

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Hickling Broad recently
Hickling Broad recently

Well, I did make it to Caddington, and very glad I did. We actually went down on the Saturday morning and stayed till teatime, after the children had been picked up by Vicky. Had time for a good chat with both Oliver and Amy, and Oliver showed me what Minecraft was all about. I now sort of understand it. David showed me how to use Evernote, which is more exciting than it sounds.

Dot drove both ways because I still wasn’t feeling good. In fact I’m still not feeling good. I think I’m getting over it and then I suddenly feel quite ill, with a lot of pressure in my abdomen and feeling shaky. Then I have crackling in my head. Paracetamol is quite good. If I weren’t going to see the doctor next Monday, I would probably have been in for an emergency appointment by now.

I’ve been well enough to carry on with most things, though. On Sunday I played guitar and led the prayers. On Monday we had our hair cut, after Dot had taken my glasses into Boots and got a new screw fitted (they fell apart in church on Sunday). And after we’d taken three pictures to be framed and returned the projector to the church hall so that Stuart could use it. On Tuesday I didn’t do much either.

Yesterday Dot and I went to the cinema at midday and saw The Monuments Men, about saving stolen art from the Nazis. Very good, but not brilliant. I would like to have seen Kristin Scott Thomas in the Cate Blanchett role, but then I like to see Kristin Scott Thomas in anything. The minor roles were particularly well played, and our use of the Odeon card enabled us to get two free tickets!

Arriving back from Morrisons in the rain on Tuesday, I opened the garage door, and it convulsed and spewed out some nasty black, oily tubing. I managed to feed it back into the hole it came out of – at the cost of getting very oily hands. Internet research revealed that attempting to mend garage doors can result in death or serious injury (I exaggerate slightly), so I contacted a local firm recommended by Colin Wright. A guy came this morning, and we have ordered a new door, which should be with us by next week. Meanwhile, I can open the current door and get the car out, if I’m very careful.

Now I have to find a plumber to fix the tank in the loft.

Kay has “resigned” from Chronicle – probably temporarily – for personal reasons, and Dot will probably be doing some reading and maybe violin-playing for our next performance. Not till September, probably, when we’re booked into Oxnead Hall for our new still embryonic Oxnead collection. Meanwhile I’ve been working on getting it into some kind of order, which is quite tricky as most of the stuff we’ve written is about one end of the timeline. Yes, Sir Robert.

I’ve also managed to produce (today) a financial report for the DCC on Monday. No news from Howard on transferring the account. Did I mention that Howard and Anna had invited us to go to Iona with them in June? They have. Looking forward to it. It’s going to snow tomorrow, allegedly.

Straightening out

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Very soggy indeed outside: the whole month has been pretty wet, and I suspect our forthcoming weekend at Buxton may feature some quite muddy walking. Still, you never know.

I’ve been straightening out the office, which is quite satisfying. I am still treasurer of the church, but I’m not sure how long that will go on. Howard is trying to open a new account, as far as I know. He preached on the financial situation on Sunday and did it quite well, though I always feel uneasy about that sort of thing.

I’ve been in touch with Andrew’s care worker, Elaine, who seemed quite surprised about his funding situation. Apparently no-one had told her; so I’m not sure what the finance department of Coventry City Council is up to. She is now trying to get some sense out of them. Best of luck to her.

Ethel, her friend John and Dot's new top feature in the cake-cutting
Ethel, her friend John and Dot’s new top feature in the cake-cutting

It poured with rain for Ethel’s 90th birthday party on Sunday. It took place at her care home in Welborne and was attended by the usual suspects: Angela, Rodney, Vicki and Graham; Roger and Rosie; Tally’s daughter-in-law Ann and her son Rob, who is a carpenter. I remember this because she told me several times. Dot had arranged for Marion to make a sponge cake – beautiful as always – and a fruit cake appeared from elsewhere. A jolly time was had by all.

The Paston exhibition has come to an end after three months. Dot managed to get Anne there on the last day, but the story goes on. Yesterday Rob and I visited the UEA for a talk with Dr Karen Smyth about her new project on the Pastons, which will start small and get a a lot of input from us but eventually build up to a digital heritage monster that could attract as much as £1 million in grant or research money.

The good news is that the work we do for it in the initial stages (and possibly later on as well) will be paid for; so maybe all that voluntary work we’ve done over the years will eventually reap its reward. Other than the reward implicit in doing it, of course.

Following that meeting, Caroline joined us for a Chronicle meeting and lunch – prepared by Dot despite the fact that the school she’s governor of is in the midst of Ofsted. She left later to be interviewed by the inspector. We had a good meeting: I sang my song, and Caroline read her poems, and we planned a way forward. I am going to work on a structure for the new performance (based on Oxnead), and Rob is going to try to get the owners of the Hall interested enough to host it.

We have managed to visit the cinema three Mondays in a row, which is amazingly consistent for us. Following Hobbit 2 and Gravity, we went to see American Hustle, which was excellent in many ways, but still not quite as good as the other two. The fact that it’s based on a true story possibly made it a little less neat than it might have been. As Tom Clancy says, the difference between fact and fiction is that fiction has to make sense.

Tuesday Group was at the Archers this week, and I had a carload, taking Judy, Ian and Harriet through pouring rain (Dot was preparing for Ofsted). We are considering dropping TG for a while and inviting different people round as part of a new church project. But we want to keep seeing David and Bridget and Vicky, who no longer attend St Augustine’s, so we’ll probably invite them too. Anyway, we’re still thinking about it.

My tanka book with Joy McCall has just been published, and I’m picking up some copies later. It’s on Amazon, but with the disturbing note that it’s not available, and they don’t know when it will be. I hope someone sorts that out. Not me, obviously.

Now you see it – oh no, maybe you don’t

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Flooding at Pull's Ferry
Flooding at Pull’s Ferry

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
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.

Embarrassing moment in Loch Fyne

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River Bure near Horning, at about 3.10pm on a late November afternoon.

Managed to fit in a load of supermarket shopping and a visit to three banks before Dave and Julia arrived at 1.30pm on Monday. After lunch we went for a walk round the lesser known parts of the city, taking in Rouen Road, Ber Street, Hall Road, Southwell Road, Trafford Road and Brian Avenue. Obviously there is a good reason why these are lesser known, but we didn’t let that put us off. Dot saw Charlotte and Sophie through a window at 81 Trafford Road and shamelessly accosted them. Sophie is on the brink of motherhood but not quite there.

On the way back we called in at John Lewis and that shop on the hill that sells quality furniture upstairs and coffee downstairs. Some very nice stuff, but you can’t keep buying furniture. It was raining pretty solidly by the time we got home, and there was a lot more of it yesterday, when we had hoped to do a walk near Oxnead. In the event we started at Wroxham Barns for coffee, went on to Oxnead Church, then took a brief walk down to the river with our umbrellas up. Didn’t do the bit behind Oxnead Hall because of mud.

Continued by car to the Gunton Arms, where we had lunch (Lincolnshire Poacher sandwich for me, bagel for Dot and rarebit for the Evetts). Really enjoyable, and the setting of course is excellent. On again to Alby Crafts, where I bought a few small things (I had been tempted by a coat at Wroxham, but resisted it). By this time it was getting dark and we drove home. Later we walked up to Loch Fyne, where I tried to use an out-of-date Gourmet card (via iPhone app), which was rather embarrassing. It seems they haven’t renewed my subscription: I can’t find anything taken off my credit card.

Very tired last night. Still tired this morning, partly because I had to get up at 7.30pm in case the gas man came at 8am. Of course he didn’t. It’s now 11.12am, and I’ve heard nothing. Meanwhile another radiator seems to have bitten the dust, this time in the kitchen. Dot and Julia are out shopping (aaargh), and Dave has gone to the station to get a Motor Sport magazine.