Chess problem: White to play and mate in two moves
Quite a nice meal at Prezzos on Monday with Angela and Rodney, but a bad night afterwards. As a result (possibly) I’ve been feeling fairly unenergetic all week, or maybe that’s normal. I’m saving all my energy up for Iona. We leave tomorrow.
I had a long list of things that had to be done, and amazingly I’ve done them. Too many to mention here, but one of them was preparing the Chronicle Oxnead book for David to have a look at, and another was putting the final touches to the performance script. There was also picking up pills from the chemist, paying in cheques in the city, buying a small rucksack, finding a couple of poems for the church world war one service in August and writing one myself, going to the supermarket, checking the bank statement and finding my glasses (in the washing machine). To be fair, Dot actually found them, but I took delivery. Amazingly, they seem to have survived intact.
The sun has come out this evening, but the weather over the last couple of days has been pretty miserable, with much greyness and rain. Dot had a hard time at a church school this afternoon trying to persuade staff that being a church school was a good idea, and this evening she is at another school, where she’s governor. Last night she was at orchestra, and today my Broadband went down. There is no connection between these things. As far as I know. It’s back now.
The luggage allowance for the flight tomorrow is rather challenging, but we’ll give it a shot. I shall take practically nothing – not absolutely nothing, because the forecast for Saturday is for heavy rain. In fact there’s rain in the forecast for every day we’re there, but at least it’s going to be warm. Assuming they’re right. Just what we want. Warm rain.
A rather quiet few days for us, largely because the weather has been so wet and cold that we didn’t feel like doing much. Dot had a few appointments she had to keep, of course, but my excursions have been limited to accompanying her to the city on Saturday in search of linseed oil / methylated spirits (it’s a violin thing), driving to church on Sunday and taking the car in for an MOT and service yesterday.
We did start the week by going to the cinema (4 weeks out of 4) to see Inside Llewyn Davis, the latest Coen Brothers film, which is brilliant. It’s set in the 60s pre-Dylan folk scene of Greenwich Village (mainly) – a Dylan lookandsoundalike appears at the end – and it’s about success and failure. The title character is a very good folk singer but has several flaws, mainly his propensity for making the wrong decision at every turn. Beautifully done and highly recommended.
Have also read two good books – On the Steel Breeze by Alastair Reynolds and A Season in the West by Piers Paul Read. Reynolds has amazing ideas and writes beautifully well; and Read is just a first-rate novelist: his more recent The Misogynist was stunning.
I’ve also done some work on the family tree: I now have a death certificate for my great-great grandmother Sarah Lenton, who died in 1872. Have tried to find our her maiden name, but no definite success, though it may be Green. Meanwhile I’ve cleaned out a lot of files and have bought a shredder to deal with the sensitive papers. It was ordered on Saturday from Rymans and delivered yesterday.
I had to lead the service on Sunday because Carrie was dealing with a very sad case of a guy who accidentally overdosed on anti-depressants. Dot mentioned my new book.
I was fortunate yesterday when I took the car in for its service and MOT, because the rain cleared for almost precisely the time it took me to walk home (well over three miles). I called in at Barclays on Aylsham Road to pay in a cheque and then at the TSB in Magdalen Street to pay in church cheques. I toyed with going in to the city but felt too tired: I was exhausted when I got home – mainly, I think, because I had too much on. I was sweating quite lot. Felt much better later, when Dot drove me up to the garage to ransom the car (just over £300).
Miserable as the weather is, we’re very fortunate to live in an area not so hard hit by flooding. The south and south-west are inundated, and now that it’s reached the Thames Valley, even the BBC are taking it seriously. That was quite unfair. I retract it.
Poor quality picture of top quality girl: Amy in tea cosy and glasses
A couple of visits to the surgery in the last couple of days: the first to see Dr Hampsheir to test my blood pressure, which was up a bit but not too much; the second for an all-purpose blood test. Awaiting results with unbated breath, in a similar way to my awaiting a dry day – knowing that such things exist but are unlikely to happen any time soon.
Yesterday it teemed down while Rob picked me up and transported me (with Lucy) to the Norfolk Record Office for a meeting with Dr Alban about our planned Paston exhibition there at the end of next year. That went very well, with all parties enthusiastic and full of ideas (no, it doesn’t sound like me, does it?) Tomorrow I am meeting Natasha Harlow to discuss Dragon Hall.
Still raining today (despite misleading patches of blue sky) when I took Dot up to purchase her iPhone 5. This took well over two hours, partly because the guy serving us did not know an awful lot about switching from one phone contract to another, then because we couldn’t open Dot’s old phone to get the old sim card out and find out what the model was, then because Dot couldn’t remember her Apple password …. well, you get the picture. The whole process involved most of the people in the Apple shop at some time or another, but we did eventually emerge into the early evening, where it was – yes, you guessed. It was raining. We picked up a bus outside Debenhams.
This gave Dot a relatively short time before she had to go out again to a governors’ meeting at Little Plumstead. If I were to say she was calm and relaxed, I would be lying. She does seem to have been very busy again this week. But at least she has an iPhone5, and before she went out I managed to switch on her contacts.
Dot had a bad night on Monday, with much coughing, but she was determined to get to Morston Hall in the evening. Roger drove us so that I could have a drink or two, and the meal was as always excellent, exceeded in quality only by the service. Dot survived well enough, though her throat is very sensitive to vinegar at times like these, and she had one attack (and a much worse one earlier in the day). It is now Friday, and she is almost better. She is preparing a meal tonight for Roger and Barbara (who are in Essex again during the day) and Anne and Philip, who are joining us at 7pm.
We had another first-class meal yesterday, though I made a tactical error which made it rather less special for me. It was at the Ship Inn, Brancaster. I led with a “small” caesar salad and then went for fish and chips which, although very tasty, was far too big a portion, and I had to leave most of the chips and omit the sweet. The others made more judicious choices and raved about it. Once again, the service was first class, and there were vows to return.
Originally, this had been planned as a light lunch to precede a Walking event from Holkham – part of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival. But the weather was so atrocious, and both Dot (especially) and Roger so below par, that in combination with Barbara’s sensitivity to to any temperature below really hot, we were persuaded to abandon the idea. This turned out to be the right decision in so many ways. Exceptionally high winds and driving rain would have made the walking awful even if we had been fit, and it would have been a big rush to get there after the Ship. So that was all good, then – which reminds me, we have already got through both series of Twenty Twelve on DVD, much to the Murrays’ delight. Last night we started on Dollhouse.
The weather generally has been fickle. On Wednesday Roger, Barbara and I had a long walk in the morning while Dot rested, and we took in the Rosary, Lion Wood, part of Mousehold and a large proportion of the Riverside Walk, plus the Cathedral loos and St Andrew’s Hall. It amounted to over six miles. Dot was keen to go to Cromer in the afternoon, so after lunch we set out despite a bad forecast, and got to Cromer just as it started to rain. We bought some fruit and vegetables on the way to the pier, but by the time we reached the sea front the rain was coming down in a quite determined fashion. We had a brief shot at the museum, but in the end I went and got the car and picked them up from in front of the church (traffic through the town was as always awful), driving home through driving rain.
In other news, I have had a couple of e-mails from a Jennifer Lenton in Australia who asked me about my family history. As a result of information she supplied, I am now led to believe that my great-great-great grandfather was one Thomas Lenton, who died in 1806 while working at Woburn Abbey in Bedfordshire and who is related to the said Jennifer. His son William seems to be the one whose tombstone is in Folksworth churchyard. Some more research needed there, though once you get back to 1800, sources are few and far between.
Arrangements for rebuilding our living room are now sorted out: furniture removal Monday, asbestos removal Tuesday, rebuilding ceiling Wednesday; redecoration the following Monday. Sounds like a barrel of laughs.
Dot and Julia, shopping in hand, approach a cafe in Villers
I think we can say it hasn’t worked – in spades. But at least it’s stopped raining for the moment. That means there’s no water entering the roof space and finding its way down into the living room, via the piece of insulation that soaks it up and redistributes it through one of the two large holes in the ceiling, created when I placed my hand on it (very gently) from above.
I was trying to identify the source of the dampness and perhaps move some stuff to prevent it getting worse, but the smallest pressure on the ceiling was enough to thwart that plan. Now we are awaiting a phone call from the insurer’s surveyor to make an appointment to come and look at the damage. This is likely to involve some quite drastic work in the living room, and a bit on the roof too. I suspect that water had been getting inside and being soaked up for some time. The surveyor seems reluctant to ring: I reported it all 24 hours ago. But at least the water has stopped dripping through, and the room is usable.
The chaos is exacerbated by the fact that Dot is in the midst of redecoration in preparation for new curtains. She has nearly finished our bedroom (a new pole was fitted yesterday), and once that is done she will probably have to abandon painting the living room until we find out what needs to be done, and when. We managed to have our usual Tuesday Group meal and meeting last night, but Dot and I were totally shattered at the end of it. This morning she is visiting a school, but she should be back soon.
Not much has changed: it’s still raining. It’s like living under a giant sponge: you can feel the weight of it, and now it’s coming through the roof. Since my last post, however, we have been to France, where things were much different: they spoke French. It was still raining, though.
Despite that, we had plenty of memorable moments and a few dry ones. The journey both ways was extremely straightforward despite my habitual fears about what might go wrong. Eurotunnel’s system is little short of miraculous. You drive up to a machine that knows who you are and welcomes you. You then touch the screen to choose a train– which for us in both cases was scheduled at least an hour earlier than the one we booked for. It’s a bit slow going through customs, but the train is quite quick, and getting out of it even quicker.
Stayed with Julia and Dave at their second apartment in Villers sur Mer on the Normandy coast. Total drive from Norwich just over 370 miles. Dot drove to Folkestone through a lot of rain (quelle surprise), and I drove the rest. We left Norwich about 1.30pm after I had led the service at St Augustine’s, and arrived at Villers, following Dave’s impeccable instructions, just before night fell. No e-mail reception throughout holiday.
On arrival I fell over in the car park – backwards over one of those metal things – and injured my arm rather painfully, though I could still do most things without any trouble. Not sure what it is (muscle tear?) but I now have extensive bruising on the inside of the arm near the elbow.
On the Monday we walked into town and looked at a historical exhibition of illustrated cards and letters and had coffee at a cafe. Back at the apartment we had lunch in the garden (the only time we were able to do this), and in the afternoon did a hilly walk round the “back of Villers”, initially past a parked vehicle containing a circus lion. Nearly six miles in all, and topped off with an ice cream back in town, followed by an evening meal with the Evetts. Cloudy day, but mainly dry. Yes, dry.
On the cliffs at Etretat
Tuesday was also mainly dry, though cloudy. Dave drove us to Etretat via le Pont de Tancarville, which is cheaper than le Pont de Normandie, but not so pretty. Etretat was wonderful, though: amazing cliffs. Had lunch in different restaurant from last time: moules marinieres et frites and some wonderful cidre brut. Then on to Fecamp, where we visited the Benedictine palace/distillery, with free sample at end: I had Benedictine and Brandy cocktail, or B & B, as it’s sometimes known, followed by a swift crepe. Walked about three miles altogether. Salady meal with the Evetts in evening.
The castle at Falaise
Started cloudy on Wednesday, with rain threatening. Bit of rain later, but also some sun. Drove to Cambremer (i.e. Dave drove: my car was in garage throughout), where we stopped for coffee, and Dot bought me a bracelet. Village is known for its scarecrows. Then on to Falaise, where we had lunch at a lovely restaurant in town (omelette and frites) before visiting William the Conqueror’s amazing castle and finding out a lot more about him than I knew. There was an audio tour with chess featured at the outset as symbolic of the court system, and much more besides. Technology was a bit intermittent, but it was interesting hearing about it all from the French side.
Drove back through Breuvons en Auge but resisted the famous crepes as we were eating a proper meal with Dave and Julia when we got back.
Thursday was my birthday – and for the third year running I was not at home. I was 67, and it was the worst day of the holiday for weather. We took the bus to Honfleur and had a nice birthday meal in a restaurant there, sitting next to the guy who created fruits de mer. Entertaining, but I had duck. It started raining while we were eating, and didn’t stop. Afterwards we wondered round the harbour, and Dot bought a top, then Dave and I walked up by the harbour and towards the sea, then through the Garden of Personalities (busts of Francoise Sagain and others) while Dot and Julia continued shopping.
Julia and Dot get down to some serious wildflower identification at Cabourg
Next day was Friday the 13th, but despite that it was a much better day – dry till evening. Went into Villers in the morning, and Dave and I had a brief walk in a muddy wood (part). Dot bought a waterproof jacket in the market and we got some wonderful Normandy pâté, which we had for lunch. In the afternoon we drove to Cabourg, where we had a lovely walk along the spit of land at the side of the estuary – mainly dunes featuring wildflowers that fascinated Julia and Dot. They had a book.
Then back to the prom, which we walked down to the Grand Hotel, then Duponts for tea and cake. In all we walked about 8½ miles during the day. Seafood meal with Dave and Julia in the evening to round off the holiday.
Wrote no poetry in France for some reason, but did finish off a song that I’m rather pleased with, called I feel like I’m falling apart.
The journey back on Saturday was smooth. We stopped again at the Aire de la Baie de Somme, which was very busy. Got to the tunnel about 90 minutes early, but were put on a train immediately. As we emerged into England, there was a massive downpour, and the first miles up the M20 were very difficult. We stopped at Maidstone services, but then I continued driving all the way home (Julia had made us sandwiches). Strangely, didn’t feel tired until the next day.
Got home to find e-mail from Stuart warning that the church hall wasn’t finished and we probably wouldn’t be able to have service.Called the cleaner, Sophie, who wasn’t quite so alarmist, and when we eventually got there on Sunday morning, it was fine, though a bit smokey. Howard had been there earlier and put the chairs out. The radiators weren’t complete, but it looks good. Ruth led, and I preached a sermon I’d written before we went on holiday. Went surprisingly well. The rest of the day we gradually got back to normal.
Today I walked into town to pay in some money for St Augustine’s, and got fairly wet. Dot painted a wall in the bedroom, then noticed a damp patch on the ceiling in the living room. So in a brief respite from the rain we got out the ladder and I climbed up to the top gutter to remove some plant and earth debris there. Little bit precarious, but I didn’t look down. Will have to wait and see if it’s worked.
I know I keep going on about this, but it’s still raining, and the forecast for the rest of the week is about as wet as it can be. I wouldn’t mind if it was going to have any impact at all on the drought, but of course it isn’t. Don’t you just love water companies? On the plus side, there’s just a remote possibility that the weather might have got it all out of its system by the time we go to Scotland. Or more likely, it will have no effect on it whatsoever.
While our pitch-and-putt was rained off last Wednesday, Dot and I beat the Robinsons at table tennis, 3-2, 3-2. Not bad, since we were losing 3-0 in the second series. The next day we had the Greens round, but somehow table tennis didn’t crop up, and we spent the whole evening at the dining table devouring an excellent curry and other goodies provided by Dot.
On Friday it was curry again – this time with Heather, Sam and Simon at a rather upmarket curry house called the Merchants of Spice in Colegate. I know it was in Colegate, because it used to be called the Merchants of Colegate, before it suddenly became Asian. Delicious meal, preceded by drinks at the Playhouse. Exceptionally convivial evening.
The drama continued on Saturday, when we went to the Maddermarket to see Present Laughter by Noel Coward. Not the most brilliant play I’ve seen, but a bravura performance by the lead actor, and some nice performances elsewhere too.
More drama on Sunday, when after I preached the sermon at St Augustine’s one of our occasional visitors arrived and promptly collapsed. He has mental health problems, but in this instance he also had stomach pains, so one of our congregation phoned 999, and eventually we got the attention of a very pleasant paramedic on a bike. Unfortunately I had to go out and guide him in, which meant I got wet because – astonishingly – it was raining. Eventually said member of congregation drove him to a drop-in centre (the ill man, not the paramedic) – at which point, I was told later, he took fright and walked off.
Today Dot has been observing at a school in the east where they are choosing a new head teacher. She arrived home tired and then had to prepare for the next couple of days, involving more observation and then a visit to Thames Ditton for a P4C session (staying overnight). Meanwhile I was having a Chronicle meeting with Rob and Caroline, trying to unravel the confusion Lucy has inserted into what was going to be a pretty straightforward concert at St Peter Hungate. More on that story later.
Venta Icenorum: the diggers dig, and the archaeologists look on, while in the background an expert amateur tries to explain it all to visitors
It’s Bank Holiday Monday, and we’re awaiting the arrival of the Robinsons, with whom we intend to play pitch and putt later on. It’s a dour, grey day, but according to my invaluable rainradar site, it’s not going to rain in Norwich, so we should be OK. Plenty of rain over the last few days: on Saturday I took a walk to deliver a chess cheque to Mike Read and it poured down at the only point there was no shelter. I can’t remember the last time I was so wet outdoors – so wet in fact that when Dot rang and offered a lift, I declined on the grounds that I couldn’t get any wetter and might as well complete the walk. Which I did: an unusual experience, and strangely the rain stung my eyes. Even more strangely, my tennis shoes proved to be completely waterproof. Fortunately it was not cold.
The previous day it had rained pretty much incessantly, which put paid to any ideas Dot might have had of entertaining the Higbees in the garden. Still, we had a very pleasant cooked lunch indoors. Yesterday we did start outdoors – at Roger’s house in Paine Road, with the usual suspects: Jessie, Philip (for a short while), Ray and Janet and their daughter and son-in-law. When the cloud darkened menacingly we shifted indoors for a buffet, at which I showed commendable restraint, if I might say so. We walked home in the gathering dusk across Mousehold, summiting St James’ Hill, where some unspeakable vandals have removed the view plaque dedicated to R H Mottram and had a good go at defacing the plinth as well. Colourful evening sky, which no-one could deface. Dot showed a good turn of speed in her trainers. (We had gone part way on the bus on the outward journey.)
Earlier that day we got a surprisingly large congregation (nearly 20) at church, where I found myself leading, preaching and interceding, with Dot on solo violin. A couple of new people who I hope weren’t put off!
I’ve sent off for a marriage certificate for my grandfather and the enigmatic Ms Steele, just to confirm that it happened. (It didn’t – see later posts.) And in other family news Dot and I have seen the DVD of Sam’s Nativity extravaganza, Who’s the Baby?, which was very good on the scripting and acting front, though the production values were not brilliant, unsurprisingly. The only criticism I would make is that it went on a bit too long. He certainly has a good ear for dialogue, and is a pretty good actor too. Nice to have access to so much acting talent.
Earlier in the week the assistant pastor at Surrey came round at mended our table leg, which is the sort of thing you want an assistant pastor to do. And Dot and I popped out to Caistor to have a look at the excavations, which end this week. Not terribly impressive, to be honest. We overheard a couple of archaeologists discussing which ditch had been dug by Atkinson in the 1920s (it had all been covered up subsequently), and it occurred to us that this was not something that should really have been detaining them. We did learn some interesting stuff though: apparently the town is much later than I thought (probably about 300AD), and by no means densely inhabited. They’ll be turning in their graves…
Funny how soon you can get fed up with rain. Day one: Disaster. Drought is looming. Day two: Not enough rain to lay the dust. Day three: At least the farmers will be pleased. Day four: It’s raining again, and I keep getting wet! Day five: Won’t it ever stop raining?
I’m on Day Five, and I suspect I was there on Day Three. I’d really rather it didn’t rain at all, and some other method was found of watering the earth. Or maybe it could rain only in the early hours of the morning. How could that be bad?
So my walking activities are curtailed, and my weight is rising. OK, I could go out properly attired and soldier on, but somehow when you live in the city it doesn’t seem the same. So you don’t. I mean, I don’t. Yesterday I did go out, but only to see C, who was in dire straits and desperate to be visited. Most of the day was spent preparing a session on Writing News, which I’m doing for Bridges, a creative writing group run by poet Hilary Mellon for people with mental health problems. Today I went to see her and ran through it. She seemed a little bemused, but then not many people know what a subordinate clause is nowadays. I’ve also checked my financial report for tonight’s district church council.
Dot has been rushing round various schools and writing letters and filling in forms. Day off tomorrow for Donna’s wedding. Meanwhile I got a call out of the blue from the Pensions people, who seem about to pay Andrew his Pension Credit. At last. I hope.
No sign of a drought. Weather has been very rainy over the past few days, and the forecast is for more to come. Snow in the north: going off the idea of living in Scotland. Dot has been at Diocesan House all morning, and I’ve seized on a momentary dry interlude to put rubbish in the car ready for excursion to the tip. I’ve also tidied up the garden a bit so that the brown bin can be emptied on Thursday. As we pay for this over and above our council tax, it’s vital that we have something to put in it, of course. Dot had intended to do some gardening but is only just recovering from her mugginess, which was combined with a painful leg. Both of us skipped Ambient Wonder on Sunday (not easy with a bad leg). However we did both get to the morning Communion service, which was nice. In the afternoon I called in on a friend whose son has had a really bad time with a virus which won’t go away; he is getting a lot of pain and is feeling very down, understandably. It was his 16th birthday.
Yesterday evening we met Howard and Anna at Beluga, which is neither a whale nor caviar (Facebook comments) but a rather nice restaurant on King Street, opposite the Cathedral. Very pleasant meal, but even better conversation. Extremely efficient waitress, who features strongly on the website (3/17). Walked home afterwards in pouring rain. Earlier in the day Barbara, Dot’s business partner, had been round, as had a man to fix the downstairs cistern which, annoyingly, failed to malfunction as badly as it should have and had been. We agreed in the end that it was a pressure problem: I had seen Anglian Water letting out loads of water on to the street at the end of last week, which may have solved it. Still, our man replaced a bit which should prevent it happen again (the malfunction, not Anglian Water activities). British Gas guy also called to service our boiler: he helpfully discussed the possibility of installing radiators upstairs and asked if we wanted our water hotter. I was about to say yes when it occurred to me that this might cost more. So it stays the same: it’s quite hot enough. Both men were extremely pleasant and helpful: there seems to be a trend in this direction.
It’s now mid-afternoon, and I’ve been to the tip, because the rain unaccountably stopped. You just never know where you are with rain. Tonight the Tuesday Group is at Ed’s, which will be a nice change – possibly the last time he will host before his wedding!
