Tag Archives: ruth

Scarborough and the fatal four

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engine
Grosmont rail station

Loose ends: I did visit Kathleen, and she proved surprisingly perky, chatting for well over an hour. I did deliver part of a poetry and art workshop at Oxburgh Hall on a lovely sunny day, and it went very well – the only problem being that I could not see the screen of Dot’s laptop in the marquee. It was too bright. After some while I gave up and took the laptop into the armoury, where I completed typing the workshoppers’ poems before returning to the marquee to print them out. Dot arrived late morning and joined in, and we had five others, including Paston artist Kit Price-Moss. All produced good poems, plus some lively artwork with the assistance of Annette. All middle-aged women, interestingly. The day before I had helped to set up the Paston exhibition, again in very nice weather.

After Communion on Sunday we had lunch at home and then set off for Scarborough by the direct route. Quite a straightforward journey, except that we were stopped by the police on the A17 as part of a random sample for a little lecture on road safety. This centred, needless to say, on speed, and might have been suitable for a class of teenagers thinking about driving. The lecture was given by a female member of the local safety partnership, and I would have loved to give her a few arguments, but I didn’t want to delay our journey in order to do so, so I satisfied myself by suggesting the “Fatal Four” were lion, elephant, rhinoceros and hippo when she was angling for speed (hah!), seat belts, drink and mobile phones. It did inspire me to write a piece on the dangers of driving slowly, which will soon appear on my website.

We arrived safely at Scarborough around the estimated time – 6pm – and enjoyed an evening meal with Dave and Julia. We then spent three days with them without going anywhere near Scarborough town or beach. The weather was good on the Monday, so we drove to Goathland, home of the TV series Heartbeat, where we parked and walked to Grosmont, just under four miles away along the line of an old railway track. Mostly downhill, with a brisk wind behind, and very pleasant. Had a snack in Grosmont and then caught a North Moors Railway train back. In the evening we went to the Stephen Joseph theatre and saw a remarkable Alan Ayckbourn play based, surprisingly, on a time travel device. It worked very well, although Julia really didn’t like it at half-time. Most enjoyable and very clever, I thought. Communicating Doors starred Liza Goddard and Laura Doddington.

Helmsley Castle
Helmsley Castle

Next day was supposed to be rainy, so we headed for Nunnington Hall. In fact it didn’t rain at all and was less windy and therefore even nicer than the day before. Nevertheless we enjoyed the hall and a brief trip into Helmsley afterwards. In the evening we had a very good meal at Tuscany Too, a restaurant half a mile down the road from the Evetts’ apartment. So good in fact that the richness of the food meant I had trouble sleeping that night.

cliffs
Cliffs near Flamborough Head

On Wednesday we travelled in two cars down to Flamborough Head, so that we could continue on to Norwich afterwards. An impressive spot with a smattering of twitchers, but we walked along the cliffs, which were dramatic: could have stayed much longer. As it was we climbed the lighthouse, then had lunch (fish and chips for Dot and me) and set off for home about 3pm, following Dave and Julia until they turned off for Hornsea and Tracy Savage. We continued into Hull (probably a mistake) but emerged unscathed ono to the A63 and headed for the A1, where we stopped for refreshments at Blyth (nice one) before heading for Peterborough and home along the A47. No real traffic problems, and we got home just before 8pm. This was a longer route, but more relaxing to drive. The A17 and A15 are all right if you don’t mind travelling in a 45mph convoy all the time.

Yesterday I went to the dentist to check that his treatment of my sensitive teeth had worked – and it had, so that didn’t take long. Bought some presents for Oliver and an iPod for his Dad to give him, then ran into Martin Laurance. Dot was taking a head out to lunch, so I spent the rest of the day writing Oliver’s latest Little story – Little and the steps too far. Today I finished it off (with pictures) and am now catching up with various other things, like paying bills, writing e-mails and choosing hymns.

I forgot to mention that last Thursday we went for a meal with Ruth and Steve. Finding their home in Hethersett was a bit of a challenge, despite stopping and phoning them from the end of their drive. Ruth’s directions persuaded me that it wasn’t their house, but eventually Steve came out and guided us in. Very pleasant evening.

6 July 2007

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A fuller view of the refreshment hut mentioned last time: a truly amazing agglomeration of cast-off building materials, it also contains a library, or maybe a secondhand book shop. It was hard to tell which. It is situated just behind what used to be a shingle bank at Cley, and its continued existence is truly remarkable. Perhaps it was washed up by the sea some time in the past, or repeatedly.

The weather has continued very wet, although I managed to get into the city and back yesterday, and managed a two-mile walk the day before. I now have my watch back with its new battery and accompanying reassurance. Existing without a watch is a very odd experience: it’s easy enough to find out what the time is, but mostly you don’t bother. Days seem to last longer. I also got some euros for Ireland, in the hope that further terrorist cock-ups don’t shut down the airports. Last week failed car bombs in London and an attack on Glasgow airport that didn’t work.

Last night I had what was probably a unique experience: I went to an opera and loved every minute of it. I steer clear of operas because the language and the plot are usually so banal, and you can’t hear the words anyway, but we went to this one because a friend was singing in it. It was The Night Bell, a one-acter by Gaetano Donizetti, and it was put on by Claxton Opera. This is a group based in a small village near the River Yare, east of Norwich – really out in the wilds. We had to park in a farmyard and were driven by minibus up to a large house (The Old Meeting House, but someone actually lives there), where the inside had been re-formed to provide a small concert hall holding about 80-90 people. The orchestra were on the ground floor beneath the stage, which was therefore on the first floor – level with one set of seats. We were in the second-floor “gallery” – front row, with a great view down on to the stage.

The production was highly professional, from stage sets through costumes to acting and direction. The first half of the programme was Stravinsky’s The Soldier’s Tale – not an opera, but an acted-out story with a narrator (the brilliant David Newham) and of course Stravinsky’s music, which was rather in the style of Kurt Weill. The acting was excellent and the story not too bad, but there were rather tedious lulls where the music took over and there was nothing for the actors to do – so we had dancers prancing around rather pointlessly.

The Donizetti was stunning, however. Our friend Ruth was Serafina, one of the leading roles: I knew she could sing, but her acting was a revelation – some beautiful comic touches. The whole thing was extremely funny, and the two leading men were both superb, as were the chorus. Maybe it was the acoustics, but you could actually hear what people were singing.

Needless to say it started raining as we left Norwich and continued all evening. There was a bit of hanging around waiting for the minibus afterwards, but we had umbrellas, and we managed to have a chat with Ruth and with a woman in the chorus who we’d known long ago, when Dot taught at Surlingham.