Full day on Sunday, which started with a Communion service at which a happy and contented young George Myers was dedicated. Vicky’s parents came down from Lothersdale, and various other family members and friends boosted the congregation to around 35. There was cake, and the weather was warm. Later Dot and I went to Cinema City for a private showing of Rüthli – the Little Dynamo. This was a film put together by Rüthli’s husband Douglas and a photographer friend to celebrate her life and her final few months (she died of a brain tumour last March). Very professionally done, but I would like to have seen more of her work and her earlier years. I only knew her for a few months, really. I collaborated with her for a show called Voices and Visions – I wrote a couple of poems to go with two abstract pictures that she produced following a visit to the Arctic – and it must have been around that time that she got the diagnosis. She was bubbly and full of life, whereas in some of the shots from the film that had all gone. We have been round to their house in Eaton – called Asgard – which is full of pictures and sculpture. Dot has struck up a friendship with Douglas recently: they have a shared interest in gardening. He is about as eccentric as Rüthli was, though not as tiny. Both art teachers and keen motor-cyclists!
In the evening we went to a fund-raising event at the Workshop – a cafe on Earlham Road – put on by Matt, our former “lodger”, who will be leaving for Palestine in three weeks’ time. There was some guitar-and-singing which would have been better with some coherent or even interesting lyrics, but was sort of entertaining anyway. However the main event was a quiz, which was won by our team, mainly because it was the biggest and despite our knowing almost nothing about 90s Britpop. Dot and I got a £10 book token, and our other team members, Debbie Sands and her husband Neil, got the Cinema City tickets. Matt brought his American girl friend Lorie, who isn’t going to Palestine but we hope will be waiting for him when he gets back. Looking promising, I have to say – she’s very sweet. Will he be moving to America? Watch this space.
(This is a false alarm – see later posts) Some time around now I seem to have discovered that my grandfather was not only in the Army from 1900 to 1903 but got married in 1905 in Mansfield to someone other than my grandmother – a woman called Annie Mary Steele. He would have had to get unmarried to her fairly quickly, but whether through death or divorce or something else I know not. It merits further investigation, as they say.
Shortly before noon on Monday the Redgraves arrived, complete with children Libby (11) and Archie (9), who I have to say were delightful. We spent most of the afternoon in the Castle Museum, including a battlements tour. The guide was full of information I didn’t know and really excellent at putting it across, though I suspect it was a bit much for the children in the party. They had evening meal with us and stayed till about 9.30pm before heading back to Kessingland, where they are renting a holiday chalet. The weather was good, but deteriorated sharply yesterday. It was great to see them: we met in Crete 17 years ago, when they were on their honeymoon. We’ve visited them in Brighton and they’ve been to Norfolk two or three times, and we get on very well despite the gaps.
Yesterday I wrote two or three more poems about the Waveney and spent a lot of time trying to work out whether our Tuesday Group were going to North Walsham for a Molten Meditation event, as suggested by David Archer at the Workshop on Monday. After many phone calls and e-mails we ended up having our usual meal here, and even David decided not to go to North Walsham, partly because Bridget was under the weather. Turned out to be a smallish group, augmented by Adrian, an alternative gentleman who comes to church occasionally, and his dog, who had tagged on to Harriet in her trek across the city. This made it a bit different. I ended up sitting in the garden with him and the dog while he gave me his viewpoint on life.
