Tag Archives: parish pump

A bad day for the roses

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Tim,, Jude and Dot at the refurbished Wensum Sports Hall.
Tim, Jude and Dot at the refurbished Wensum Sports Hall.

They raved about Mr Turner, and the more I think about it, the more I think they were probably right. I should probably watch it again, because it’s a bit of a slow burn. Three excellent performances: Timothy Spall, of course, as the surprisingly unrefined Turner,  Dorothy Atkinson as his put-upon but devoted maid, and Marion Bailey as the “profoundly beautiful” Mrs Booth, a memorably good woman.

Most of last week was spent dealing with church financial matters (including a financial report for the year), and writing and rewriting a sermon. Plus various other sedentary matters. Feeling shivery on and off, and although the weather has turned very cold, I don’t think it’s that. Quite disconcerting.

We also had an unexpected visit from Simon (Wakefield), who had fallen over and injured himself. We took him in, warmed him up and Dot bathed his wounds. He was quite shaken. His leg is getting worse, and there is a risk that it might have to be amputated. Very sad. Such a nice guy.

On Friday I called in to see Joy and Andy, and Joy (a former nurse) suggested my minor problem might be hormonal. Nothing really fits my symptoms; so I shall try to give up thinking about it and hope it goes away. Had a good if shivery time with the McCalls, eating Stella McCartney “sausage” rolls and a bit of carrot cake. I took her a rough copy of my Iona book, which has now gone to the printers, complete with a bar code that I got for free off the Internet and is probably therefore deficient. Took two “sausage” rolls home for Dot, who gave them the thumbs up.

Had an unusually vigorous day on Saturday, which was sunny and not quite so cold. I cut down the roses in the back garden (except the ones making their way up and around the arch) and then annihilated the ones in the front garden. While I was doing this, Bob got me a cup of tea, which was nice. Broke off for lunch and then a walk up to Wensum Lodge, where Roger was assisting at the open day to mark its refurbishment.  They’ve done an excellent job there. A woman tried to persuade us to play pickle ball, but Dot was heading for the city to pay in a cheque and do a bit of shopping, and I had to get back to finish the roses. However, stayed long enough to meet Jude, who had dropped in after conducting a city tour from the front seat of a coach.

Back at the house I finished off the roses and managed to stuff about two thirds of them into the brown bin, and the rest of them into the green plastic tub. Hard work. I may not do it again for a year or so.

In the evening we took Jude II (Reynolds) to Eleanor’s, where we had been invited for a meal, and had an enjoyable evening, featuring burnt roast vegetables, which we all agreed we liked. Really. Eleanor is very sweet.

Yesterday, after a night during which I felt very hot, I reverted to shivery mode and managed to give a sermon on Advent and taking life seriously, which went down quite well. In the afternoon, after taking the rare opportunity of watching Norwich City win a game, we visited North Walsham cemetery and then Jessie, who produced some trademark mince pies. She seemed very well and can get up the stairs with no problem at all.

Today I’ve written a couple of pieces for Parish Pump, sorted out some cards and presents, got rid of some old papers and carrier bags at Morrisons, posted a parcel and some cards and put out the rubbish.  I’ve also written this, and I now have to walk to Howard’s for (a) a meeting about Carrie’s activities (b) a quick meal and (c) a DCC meeting. Dot will be joining us for the latter two. She has cleaned out the utility room and is still working on cards and presents. It’s all go.

Earlier Martin Smith called round with £247 in Enneagram money. I have e-mailed the speaker to find out how much of it he wants.

Some kind of poetry

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Dot doing her Princess Diana thing at Chatsworth
Dot doing her Princess Diana thing at Chatsworth

And this was the second week in the year we didn’t go to the cinema. Nothing really calling to us at the moment. But we did watch North by Northwest on television  this evening by way of recovering from Norwich losing 3-0 at Swansea and England being ejected from the 20-20 cricket world cup.

Lovely warm day today. Bought some flowers and took them up to the Rosary while Dot was going through the torment of listening to the Norwich match. It’s Mothers’ Day tomorrow. I slipped a couple of little roses on to my grandparents’ grave as well. It’s looking neglected.

Not a very busy week. I managed to get down to my last blood pressure pills and had to beg some emergency ones from the chemist. Also had some interesting laser work done by Ross on one of my upper teeth to get rid of some minor problem at gum level. Bit uncomfortable, but not too bad. Health continues to be up and down. Today I’ve felt tight round the abdomen and odd altogether. So hard to pin down exactly what’s wrong, but something is definitely not right.

On Wednesday went to the last performance of Whistle, by Martin Figura, at the Arts Centre. The evening started with a 20-minute warm-up by Russell Turner (The Vodka Diaries), which was quite entertaining, though not something one would want one’s grandchildren to witness. This was followed incredibly by a 20-minute interval, which probably shows that poetry audiences are very thirsty. Martin Figura himself was good – more monologue than poetry, but he did justice to the story, during which his father kills his mother.  This did actually happen, which just goes to show.

Yesterday I got a call from a woman who wanted to use my poem Some Kind of Lamb in the Wymondham Abbey magazine. She was very complimentary about the poem and said that several of her friends had it pinned up. That is the kind of thing that makes writing poetry worthwhile. That and the writing itself.

I have also written a short piece on Betjeman and Clare for the Parish Pump website, at the request of Anne Coomes. And at last I’ve put together five of my songs with chords for the next Seagull session. Dot and I practised some of them tonight. Sounded good.

Just call me McDowell

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Dot and Tim on Waxham beach (by Elvira)

Monday night turned out very well. Not only did I avoid hearing the Ryder Cup result and was able to watch the tightest of finishes without knowing that Europe won by a single point, but I won my chess game too. That match was also a tight affair: my team beat King’s Lynn 2½-1½, and I won the deciding game. Just call me McDowell. That meant we went through to the next round of the Williamson Cup, where we will almost certainly lose to hot favourites Norfolk and Norwich. Ho hum. It must all mean something.

I continued my winning ways by beating my nephew Joe 3-o at rapid chess on Wednesday, which is better than I usually do. Meanwhile I had been working on my course for church magazine editors, which after seeing Parish Pump editor Anne Coomes today I am still not sure will happen. She is very keen, but it is hard to pin down exactly what’s required. I picked her up from Belsey Bridge (formerly Ditchingham) conference centre just before noon and we had lunch at the White Horse in Trowse. Good fish and chips. We then spent the rest of the afternoon discussing the course, what would and what wouldn’t work, plus other more personal matters before I dropped her off at the airport just after 5pm for her trip back to Manchester and home.

Dot meanwhile had spent a sparkling sunny day at Diocesan House followed by a visit to a school at Carbrooke. She is now at the new-look Ambient Wonder event – First Thursdays – mainly in order to get a video from Matt. I was excused on the grounds of looking tired. And feeling tired actually: Anne had what she described as the end of a cold, and I am a bit nervous about being exposed, especially as I have to drive the P4C stars to Henley on Monday.

Before that I have to write and deliver a sermon. I am now officially a trustee of the Paston Heritage Society, having been voted in by Lucy and Jo. Lucy has to spend some days in Papworth with a chest infection, so I am suddenly 50% of active trustees. I ought to know more about it than I do. Today was National Poetry Day. That ought to rhyme, but it doesn’t. Typical.

New prospects opening up?

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The weekend bride's parents, Paul and Maryta, outside the church.

Still thinking about the great time we had at Portsmouth, which may be why I lost at chess again on Monday – or I may just be losing it completely. Despite this, new prospects may be opening up: on Tuesday Anne Coomes arrived, and we spent most of her visit discussing the possibility of my doing training sessions across the country for diocesan communications officers.

Anne, as well as being the ex-wife of my good friend David, is in charge of Parish Pump, a web-based organisation which supplies material and assistance to editors of church magazines, and which has grown remarkably in recent years. The idea would be that I would do sessions based on my UEA lectures but adapted to suit the audience. We hope to give a trial to a specially selected group in Norwich, but of course that does depend on the diocese agreeing and supplying a venue. I would be concentrating on the quality of writing, but there are additional possibilities. I was thinking of deregistering myself as self-employed because of my lack of earning in the last two years, but I may now change my mind. We’ll see.

Anne went off to Northamptonshire yesterday morning, after I registered her on Facebook. I guided her to Cringleford and then did a bit of walking. I had the idea of walking home, but found myself looking round the burial ground at Eaton, which I stumbled upon, and then found it was – amazingly – too warm to walk very far, especially as I had woken very early and written a new piece for my website. So I caught a bus on Newmarket Road (I had probably walked a couple of miles anyway), which took me home, where Dot was working hard on her pre-inspection briefing: she’s doing an inspection at Hickling on Maundy Thursday.

Later she walked up to Rymans to buy some paper for the printer and purchased 5 for 4 because it seemed a good deal. The trouble was, it was a very heavy deal, and she struggled down Prince of Wales Road, stopping every few paces. I had gone to meet her, but for reasons which need not detain us thought she had gone to Morrisons, which is in the opposite direction. When I contacted her by phone from Morrisons, she was about a third of the way down the hill, and I eventually reached her roughly halfway down, where she had ground to a halt. By the time we got home we were both pretty exhausted, but she still had to go to Gillingham, where she is a governor, for a 6pm meeting. I watched Spurs beat Fulham 3-1 in an FA Cup quarter final instead, which was slightly more restful, though Spurs were pretty awful in the first half (HT 0-1).

Today she has gone to Kessingland for a DSSO visit, followed by lunch with Anne, and this evening we’re at the Theatre Royal for an Alan Bennett play, Enjoy, starring Alison Steadman, one of my favourite actresses. Then off to Coventry with Phil tomorrow for a meeting with Andrew’s social worker.