Tag Archives: party

I don’t know why

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The visit to Pinkys in Halesworth nearly didn’t happen. I dawdled over my egg curry and left myself with little time to get to Halesworth and then find the cafe. I took the back route and arrived at the car park I knew with about eight minutes to spare. I walked through the middle of town in what I thought was the right general direction and happened on the cafe  just in time. The room was already full, but I found a seat somewhere in the middle (not my favourite position) and bought a pot of tea. I don’t know why.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the evening followed the Seagull format, and I read three of my poems in the first half: Distant Funeral, Old Pictures and three tanka I’d just written on the theme of injured angel. They seemed to be well received,  and I had a pleasant chat during the break with a couple from Woodbridge who were sitting opposite me. Some of the usual suspects from the Seagull were there, including Kaaren Whitney  and Elizabeth Bracken. Oh, and Oonagh, who doesn’t write poetry but likes to read poems. I don’t know why.

To my astonishment the evening had ended by 8.45pm, and I made my way home through very misty Suffolk lanes and only slightly less misty Norfolk ones. I caught Ann and Jim before they went to bed, and we talked until 11.15, which is ridiculously late for them. I tried to explain how something could be poetry if it didn’t rhyme. I don’t know why.

The next day we celebrated Joy’s 60th birthday, nearly three weeks too late. The party was at Joe and Birgit’s in Hethersett, and we picked up a Northern Irish woman called Kirby (I think) from Douro Place. Other guests at the party included several Surrey regulars, plus – to my surprise – Sam, Lucy, Elliott and Helen( Lucy’s mother), with whom I had a longish chat while feeding Elliott with German cheesecake. We helped clear up and took Phil and Joy home afterwards. I don’t know why.

The next day I preached on grumbling. I was against it. I do know why.

On Monday, while Dot was at a P4C meeting in Metfield, I caught up with some church treasurer work and walked into the city to pay in some cheques. On the way I bumped into Nicola, Anna’s sister, who was cycling to meet her boyfriend at the station. In the evening I played what may be my last game of chess for some time, losing to Jeff Dawson in the club knockout tournament. It was a good game, quite complicated, and not one I minded losing, but there were some possibilities in it for me, and I just didn’t have the stamina to concentrate at the end. I don’t know why.

Several fantasy lands

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Dot on the path from Spout Hills to the Letheringsett Water Mill.

Life doesn’t get any slower, but at least the weather is something approaching mild today. I stepped outside to go to the supermarket, wondering which coat to wear, and realised I didn’t need a coat at all. Deep shock. We did have some sun last week, but the wind was very chilly, and when we went to Blakeney for a concert on Saturday, it was grey and verging on cold. No, it actually was cold.

The concert, in the church, was good, though: the Mozart Orchestra playing (mainly) Beethoven’s Concerto for Violin. And the violinist, Fiona Hutchins, was brilliant, clearly having a lot of fun, and no self-importance whatsoever. We sat in the third row, and it was great to watch her close-up. She is normally the orchestra leader, and they clearly got on well.

Before that we ate sandwiches in our car on the quay, and then had a quick drink in the bar at the Blakeney Hotel as the tide raced in.

The previous day was much warmer and sunny; so we went to Holt and walked at Spout Hills and across the fields to Letheringsett Water Mill, which was just closing. So we went back up into town and had tea and scone at Byfords (always wonderful), followed by a bit of food shopping at Bakers & Larners. Earlier I’d picked up my new glasses from Boots, who have just texted me to say I missed my appointment. They clearly need glasses.

Going further back into the mists of time, on Wednesday Nicholas talked me through a service I’m leading at the old church on the 23rd. Last night I had a bad dream about leading a service and not having anything with me that I should have.  And it hadn’t even been preying on my mind, though I’m not at all sure I can remember everything Nicholas said. It is preying on my mind now, of course. I have to put the order of service together and choose some hymns; then I should be OK. Let us prey.

At the PCC that same evening I met the new parish treasurer, who gave me a document to pin up in the church. Something to do with insurance. Unfortunately I lost it on the way home: I was walking because Dot had the car, which is still in the garage and will be for at least a week, probably more. I am pretending the document never existed. It won’t be long before I start pretending the car never existed.

Sharon had a particularly effective go at my shoulder on Thursday, and it’s been feeling much better since. But I am still awaiting the results of the x-ray.

Busy day on Sunday. After preaching on raising the dead (no visual aids) we went to Adrian Ward’s 60th birthday party at Cringleford, arriving just in time for the food but too early for the only other people we knew (except Adrian and his wife). Martin Laurance eventually turned up, complete with new eye surgery, and later Annette and Teri. In between, Caroline, who read some poems from her Pepys book following a guy who played cello for rather a long time. Dot and I then had to rush away because we were performing  at the Seagull in the evening. No music this time, but Dot did assist in a tanka series, and I did a few other poems. Very good young singer-guitarist there called Matthew Shepherd, of whom I expect great things.

And then there was yesterday, when Phil drove me to Coventry/Warwick to visit Andrew. We visited Minster Lodge first and left some money for the man who was transporting Andrew’s belongings from the Langleys. Then to Warwick, and a bit of a challenge finding the entrance to Andrew’s new ward, the Rowans. All the staff very pleasant. Andrew was less manic but still firmly inhabiting a fantasy land – or to be more accurate, several fantasy lands. We had a chat with the ward manager and the consultant, then headed for home, stopping only for an Olympic breakfast at Thrapston. Well, you have to, don’t you?

And now Linda is just finishing Dot’s hair, having cut mine halfway through this blog. Tuesday Group tonight, which I will have to sort out myself, because Dot has a meeting at 6.30pm. She may or may not be back for our meal.

Bob Brolly and the birthday party

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Katy Wakely with her mother and brother at her 40+ birthday party in Ditchingham village hall

Yes, it is still raining. Funny you should ask. Not surprising, since April is the cruellest month. While I was staying dry by not going out the other day, however, I did make an interesting discovery in the family tree area.

For a long time I had been wondering why my father’s parents were living in Mansfield before they moved to Norwich, since his mother was born in Sheffield, and his father’s family was long established in the area immediately to the west of Peterborough (Yaxley, Normans Cross, Folkesworth…). Then I discovered when looking at newly online records that my grandmother’s parents were not from the Sheffield area: one was born in Shirebrook and the other in Kneesall. What do these two small places have in common? They are near Mansfield. What could be more natural that the newly married couple should go and live either with or near the wife’s parents’ relatives? Well, it makes sense to me.

Meanwhile, back in the 21st century, we had the church annual meeting and dinner at St Luke’s last Tuesday, while Dot was in Thames Ditton, preparing for a philosophy session. Good meal, but a longish “farewell” to John and Jean Easton, who weren’t really going anywhere, but were stepping down from several church posts because they had reached the age of 70. Took Ian and returned with both Ian and Tim Mace, managing to return the jacket TM had left at our house several weeks previously.

On Wednesday a remarkable event that turned out badly for me. I went to the doctor’s surgery to get my blood pressure checked, and arrived a quarter of an hour early, intending to go to the loo and then sit quietly, breathing deeply, until I was called into the surgery about half an hour later if I was lucky. Wouldn’t you know that I was called when I was in the loo, which obviously pushed my blood pressure up, or at least stopped it going down. Very annoying. I am now on another pill, which may be irritating my stomach. I’ve had a couple of bad nights. We shall see. What was remarkable? Being called into the surgery a quarter of an hour early. Almost unheard-of.

Despite the weather I did take part in the Reading the Past in the Landscape walk at Paston on Saturday, which was just as well, since the guy leading it didn’t know the path back from the edge of the cliff. I felt almost useful. Also climbed Stow windmill, which was nice, though greyness restricted the view. Refreshments were at Lucy’s.   The confusion over St Peter Hungate has not been totally resolved, but it’s heading in the right direction. I’ve left Rob sorting out the publicity with Lucy, which seems like a plan, as the Murrays would say.

In the evening we took the Greens to Ditchingham village hall for the 40+ party of Katy Wakeley, who is the granddaughter of our former church member, Maud Lincoln, and sometimes comes to church with her mother Chris. Like Maud, Katy is mainly in a wheelchair: she has ME very badly. She got out of it to cut her cake on this occasion. Chris and Ray were also there with Phyllis, and there was some dancing to an Irish band led by Bob Brolly, which is his real name. He also broadcasts on Midlands radio. They weren’t bad, actually. I don’t know if I mentioned this, but it was raining. Hard. All evening. Bob Brolly asked me to lead the men in singing Happy Birthday. Strangely, I was not at all nervous about this. Times change.

The party food was excellent, but for some reason my stomach reacted badly to it and I was awake for much of the night. After communion this morning I didn’t feel up to going to Fakenham for Caroline’s party, so I made my excuses and stayed home. Dot is busy working on her DSSO visits for the current term.

18 August 2008

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Dot with Julia and Allan Higbee, who we visited last Friday. My last night with a catheter – at least for a while. On Saturday I went back to Edgefield Ward for its removal, and after waiting the usual two hours-plus, this was done, painlessly, by an auxiliary called Wendy. And this time I performed perfectly acceptably afterwards and was allowed home. However, it came as a bit of a blow to discover that I would have to self-catheterise. It was slightly less of a blow when I discovered what this meant, and that I could do it fairly easily, but it would be nice to be free of the whole thing. However, the guys with me in the ward were in a far worse state generally, and remarkably cheerful. I felt a bit humbled really, but at the same time unjustifiably downcast. I think I was afraid of it all going wrong again. This feeling lasted overnight, but I am now more optimistic, although I do still have this odd, tight, heavy feeling in my abdomen which I would like to go away.

Went to church on Sunday and played guitar and led prayers: a good service led by Paul. Afterwards we had a quiet afternoon watching the Olympics.

Today I tried to get some extra sleep, but was unsuccessful, although I did actually stay in bed most of the morning. Again watched some Olympics, then went up to doctor’s to take note from hospital, and Dot called in at Garden Centre to get some oasis for our party next week. Afterwards I walked home from the Ketts Hill roundabout after posting some letters. Still get tired quickly. Dot is busy organising the tables for the 31st: she is doing a great job. I need to get on with writing my speech and organising the music.

11 December 2007

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This is my cousin once removed: Catherine – daughter of my cousin Patricia, who is Paul’s daughter. We met her at Pat’s 60th birthday party on Saturday, held at Mersham Road Elim Church in the heart of South London. I think it was South Norwood, but everything merges into each other down there. We got there thanks to some thorough planning by me – a number of print-out maps featured – and some excellent navigation by Dot. So excellent, in fact, that we were three-quarters of an hour earlier than we thought we had to be there (5pm), and over an hour and a half before the guest of honour arrived (5.45pm). But as we met Catherine at an early stage – and we were given a cup of tea by helpers – this was not a problem. Catherine had her two daughters, Abby and Ruby, with her, and later I also met her two brothers. So a good day for catching up on family matters. A delightful party with plenty of hot food and some cake and cabaret.

Afterwards we drove to the Hendersons in Eltham, about half an hour away: some more excellent navigation by Dot got us there precisely at 9pm, when we had predicted we would arrive. Maryta was so astonished that she woke up. Stayed overnight and had a great time: superb lunch on Sunday. The weather throughout the weekend was awful – rain and wind, and pretty cold, as it has been for some time. Today there is some improvement, and we are promised a dry spell, albeit a short one. It is still very cold.

On Sunday evening we had a call from another family member who I had never met – Bev, who is Howard’s daughter, so another cousin once removed. I thought it was second cousin, but apparently, a second cousin is the child of your parent’s cousin. So Catherine and Bev are David’s second cousins. Glad we’ve cleared that up.

Bev was calling from South Africa: she’s coming to England in January and wants to meet some relatives, so I’ve invited her to stay with us. But it sounds as if she might be trying to cover the whole country in about a week, so I don’t think she’ll be with us long. I’ve given her directions from Gatwick…

I have now won my last two chess games, the latter one against quite a strong player, so things are looking up. I don’t know how long it will last. What with writing Christmas cards and various other things (I was trying to put together a few poems to sell tomorrow – see next blog – but I don’t think that’s going to happen), I hardly seem to have time to do anything. It must be an illusion. We’re busy every evening till Sunday and most of the days too. Yesterday I went to the chiropractor; today Dot and I had lunch at Park Farm. Not doing enough walking because it’s so unpleasant out.

I almost forgot – on the way down to London we stopped for lunch at Swynford Paddocks Hotel, just outside Newmarket at a place called Six Mile Bottom (ho, ho). Very pleasant toasted sandwiches and curly chips with garlic dip. I shouldn’t, but I did. And I’ve still lost over half a stone in the last three weeks. SPH was very big on Brigadier Gerard, a famous racehorse, so I expect that’s where he came from. The Paddocks, not the hotel. Presumably. We also checked on the hotel Dot is staying at later this week when she does her school inspection at Newmarket. Looks very acceptable.

9 October 2007

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How can it be a week since my last post? Probably something to do with the Royal Mail strike, which is on its last day, with more promised. Or maybe it’s because life is just so busy. One of the exciting events in the last seven days was Oliver’s “official” birthday party at Woodland Farm, attended by ten of his friends from school. The picture shows him surrounded by female admirers, a member of Woodland staff and parts of his Dad and grandfather (the other one).

Dot and I functioned as minders, but with Vicky’s organisation, nothing was going to go wrong – unlike another party at the same place, when two children had inadvertently been left in the Playbarn by the organising mum. As the place is so well organised, they were in no danger – in fact they didn’t know anything was amiss. Ho, hum.

This happened on Sunday. On the Saturday, after England has amazingly managed to beat Australia at rugby (almost as amazing as France beating New Zealand the same evening), Oliver got so enthusiastic about the game that we had to go outside and play it. I managed to trip over Amy’s trampoline while going for a high ball and fell heavily on to it, doing myself some damage in the ribs area. Very painful, and it was hard to move round that evening, but I was walking OK by the party – to my surprise. It’s still unpleasant if I get into the wrong position, and turning over in bed is tricky, but on the whole it seems to be healing all right. I may be out of the World Cup Final, though.

Meanwhile, Norwich are in the relegation area after six straight losses and no goals. The manager is considering his position and doesn’t seem to have the energy or enthusiasm required to lift the team.

We are also in the midst of a garage re-creation programme. Today Annette and Mike came to liberate the chesterfield (and stayed for lunch), and Dot and I took books to the charity shop and rubbish to the tip. Needless to say, we chose the wettest day for weeks to do all this. Colin W came on Friday to look the place over and make some suggestions: he will be starting next week by removing whatever’s left in there and then making good the walls, painting everything in sight – including the floor – and erecting shelving. We’re going to put a few things on Freecycle. I have piles of things to plough through in the way of old newspapers, other papers, books etc. We’ve spent about £50 on plastic boxes.

Last night I lost another chess game to someone graded well below me. I had the advantage quite a lot of the time, but he refused to make a significant mistake, and eventually I was reduced to winning a piece, for which he got a lot of play, and I didn’t have enough time to deal with his threats.

Also yesterday we visited North Walsham to sort out Mum and Dad’s grave refurbishment. Stonemason was an extremely nice bloke who admired the picture of my great-great-grandparents’ headstone in Harlestone, Northamptonshire. Very helpful about what we want done. Followed this by dropping off Paston Letters book at Millfield School for Lucy, then visited J&F and the cemetery.

On Sunday we’d come back early from Caddington to front the Ambient Wonder “Magic of Words” preparation session. Plenty of ideas from the small throng assembled, but I’m not looking forward to organising it all. However, the vicar rang today to say my work on the Developing Consciousness book might not be wasted – he now sees it as part of a DC pack, which is promising. He’s managed to get the Bishop very interested in the whole thing, and is trying to spread it to America. No, I’m not kidding. He’s a vicar with global ideas. He also wants me to get involved with developing the Meditation Centre website, which might be interesting.