Tag Archives: peter beales

Funeral of Peter Beales gets TV coverage

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Signs of spring in the Rosary today

Rather a lot going on at the moment, which explains my lack of posting. Dot took quite a while to recover from her cold after Buxton, and she still has a bit of a cough, as have I. Feel more or less all right, though, especially as I’ve just booked a fortnight in Ballater at a house called The Coyles in Golf Road, just round the corner from the legendary wee house.

Today is a lovely winter’s day, with blue sky and not really cold after an initial frost. I walked up to the Rosary for about half an hour, under doctor’s orders. He took my blood pressure last Wednesday and pronounced it too high. I declined his offer of more pills, and he gave me a month to show some progress. Have booked an appointment online for March 15. It was the only one available.

Took Phil to the doctor’s last Thursday, and after returning him home and calling on the vicar with cheques, took the car in for servicing, which came out at an unexpectedly high £400. Walked home (of course), but Dot drove me up to fetch it at tea time.

The service included cleaning the car, which was fortuitous, as the following day was Peter Beales’ funeral, which was big enough to make it on to TV as well as into the newspapers. Dot and I drove to the nursery and took advantage of the coach into town to avoid problems with parking. Fortunately seats were reserved at the front of the church for us (as family), and I managed to keep three chairs plus a wheelchair space for Angela, Rodney, Vicki and A Ethel. The latter survived the whole thing remarkably well, even when the lock to her bungalow jammed when we took her home, and we were stuck outside in the cold for about quarter of an hour waiting for the warden.

She had been taken to the church by a specially adapted taxi with R, A and V, and she also came to the refreshments in the nursery bistro, which coped splendidly with about 200 people. She got lots of attention, and it was a nice occasion. Richard and Mandy both gave good tributes (read by the vicar), and the service featured the Shipping Forecast, by special request of Peter. No-one knows why, but it certainly got people’s attention.

The taxi did the same return journey with Angela & Co, but we met them at A Ethel’s, which is how we came to be involved in the jammed lock situation. After we go tin and they left we stayed with A Ethel for a while, but she was nowhere near as badly affected as we thought she might be. Ironically (I suppose) I received an e-mail while we were there telling me that our friend Jan Miller had died of cancer at the age of 64. Totally unexpected; we had no idea she was ill.

On Saturday we had booked to go to a Riding Lights performance at Lowestoft, but the tickets never turned up, and Dot was coughing quite badly, so we decided to give it a miss instead of ringing up and demanding action. Not very good on their part, though, especially as when I originally tried to book, their website malfunctioned. Spent most of the day finishing off my sermon on Jesus’ temptations, which I delivered on Sunday, of course.

On Sunday evening we met Heather, Simon and Sam at the King’s Head and progressed to the Ali Tandoori for our usual Indian meal. Miraculously, Dot did not cough while eating, though she did have quite a lot of red wine. Had a really good evening: we get on very well with them. Pity they will soon be going to Bournemouth: Heather has a job at the university there (she is already commuting) and Simon is looking for one in the area. Sam is due to go to Chester University next year, and his band, The Upgrade, is playing at the Waterfront next month.

Monday afternoon saw another Paston event: a cafe conversation led by Elizabeth McDonald at the White Lion Cafe. About a dozen took part, and it went well: I was able to make some contributions. Kay Riggs was there, as was Adrian Ward, which was nice. In the afternoon Dot and I did a mammoth shop at the supermarket and ran into Barbara Vidion, which was also nice.

Gentleman rose grower Peter Beales dies

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Peter Beales and his sister Rosie earlier on in his career

Another busy week, despite the snow restricting our movements. Now, at last, the white stuff has gone and been replaced by rainy but much warmer weather. Today is around 10C or more and Dot was “sweltered” on returning from a brief foray to buy a frame for a photo of Ethel (for her birthday later this week, when she is 89, and not 90, whatever she says).

It is a week, however, that will be remembered mainly for the death of Peter Beales, rose grower supreme, Dot’s cousin and all-round gentleman. He succumbed to pneumonia on Saturday afternoon (26 Jan), while Norwich City were going out of the F A Cup to non-League Luton Town. It is four months since his wife died. A sad loss, and a shattering blow to his children, Richard and Amanda.

We received the news from Amanda in the evening. Earlier we had been at Jessie’s after visiting the cemetery (Dot’s Mum’s birthday is also this week). While there we listened to the Norwich City debacle on radio. Later Dot was in deep telephonic conversation with Angela about how to break the news about Peter to Ethel, but in the event she took it without flinching. We visited her yesterday after a drop-in at the supermarket, and she was in good form.

Last Wednesday, with plenty of snow still on the ground, I met Elizabeth McDonald at the Cathedral Refectory to discuss her contribution to the Paston event at Dragon Hall in May. She’s doing a PhD on Books the Pastons Read,  and so will fit in well with the literary theme. Later I drove up to the doctor’s in Dot’s car (because she was using mine) and almost got it stuck outside the house, such is the unsuitability of rear-wheel drive to snowy conditions. Strangely when I returned it shot up the hill with no trouble.

I had had to pick up pills from the chemist as well as call in to the doctor’s to register myself for making online appointments – the latter prompted by my having to cancel Thursday’s appointment, when I accompanied Rob to the Norfolk Record Office in place of the injured Lucy.  But I leap ahead. Also on the Wednesday I went to a meeting of the King Street Cultural Quarter, with whom we’re collaborating slightly on Dragon Hall. Quite amusing to witness the same kind of meeting the PHS has, but without the need to get involved. They are in fact in a worse state following the sudden resignation of their chairman and the reluctance of anyone to take over.

The meeting at the NRO next day was far more civilised – although Dr John Alban, the curator with whom we have been dealing, is also stepping down (retiring) at the end of March. We managed to get a clearish picture of what we’re doing, and it all seems very promising. The result should be a three-month exhibition on the Pastons at NRO starting in mid-October, with some talks by prominent people in the Paston world. Rob gave me a lift, and afterwards we called in at the ABC Wharf in King Street to view the venue for a possible photo exhibition. I think it can best be described as esoteric: a massive warehouse-type  space overlooking the river. Impressive but very, very cold.

Caroline with her book and the singer

After  church on Sunday, where the improved weather attracted a single-figure congregation, Dot and I drove to Fakenham for the launch of Caroline Gilfillan’s new poetry book, Pepys. As you might guess, it is all about the famous diarist, and part of the launch consisted of Caroline, in period costume together with three friends, performing some of the poems, excerpts from the diaries and a couple of songs. On approaching the house we encountered Rob and Penny, with whom we enjoyed the afternoon. Fortuitous, as we knew no-one else except Caroline. Obviously we bought the book. And ate the food.