Tag Archives: seagull

Kingfisher fails to fly under Dot’s radar

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Dot, Dave and Julia at Fairhaven
Dot, Dave and Julia at Fairhaven

Julia and Dave left after lunch for Aylesbury, but had trouble getting our of the city. They got stuck in traffic, then had to return for a forgotten bag, then decided to go out via Thorpe, which can’t have been quicker. Ah well. We had a good time while they were here.

They arrived for lunch on Tuesday just after the gas man had fixed the radiator in their room. It had been cold – as a result, it turned out, of an airlock under the floorboards. Our man, Kevin Ansbro, who happens to be a novelist when not working for British Gas, sorted it all out and then chatted for some considerable time about literary stuff. Then I gave him a copy of one of my poetry books, and he left.

After lunch we went up to Marks and Spencer (I forget why) and had a hot drink before returning to the house for supper. In the evening it rained a lot, but by the next day it was quite pleasant, and we went to Fairhaven Water Gardens at South Walsham, which turned  out to be very pleasant indeed – much bigger than I thought, with lots of paths and dykes. Dot saw a kingfisher for the first time ever, and we spent some time working out what some strange birds in the distance were. They turned out to be young cormorants (much whiter than the adults). The garden walks lead to the Inner South Walsham Broad, and you can do boat trips in the summer.

In the evening we went to Cafe Rouge again (by bus), managing to dodge the rain that had returned after we left Fairhaven. Another excellent meal and another excellent waitress (not the same one).

Chocks away! Dot in the cockpit at the Radar Museum.
Chocks away! Dot in the cockpit at the Radar Museum.

On Thursday it had turned cooler, and we went to the Radar Museum at Neatishead, which proved about as interesting as it was last time and went down well with the Evetts, I think. Very few visitors, so we got close attention. In the evening we went to Prezzo and followed that by going to the Odeon (Imax) to see Spectre, the latest James Bond film, which was extremely impressive. We went to the Gallery for the full experience, but this was much less enjoyable than last time, and I doubt if we’ll be doing it again. We got massive soft drinks (which  you don’t really want before seeing a 2½-hour film), some nachos, popcorn and very poor service, because they were understaffed. Anything alcoholic had to be paid for, and the seats were not comfortable.

Today has been markedly colder. I stayed at home this morning while Dot went to the doctor to get validated for her renewed prescriptions, and then she and the Evetts went up to Marks and Spencer again to do some shopping.I had to get lunch ready for 12.30, because they wanted to get away early. Dave was here, but Julia and Dot arrived just before 1pm. Meanwhile I’d posted some cards and a magazine to Andrew, who is now back at Minster Lodge.

Pre-Evetts but after my last post Dot went to Lichfield for some p4c, staying overnight on Sunday. This went well as usual, but unusually the hotel was also excellent. I went on my own to the Seagull and read some poems, which seemed to go down well. We even had an audience of four. I tried a different route on the way back, but it turned out much further, rather as anticipated.

On Monday evening I went to a PCC meeting at St Luke’s, where both churchwardens announced their resignation – nothing to do with the new vicar; they had been planning to do so for some time. The vicar said ideally he’d like four churchwardens – two for each church – but I fear this will not happen. Still, who knows? The meeting itself was not terribly interesting, as it was primarily St Luke’s-orientated, but then there were only three of this there from St Augustine’s (Howard, Judy and me); so we could hardly grumble. We didn’t grumble, of course. We don’t do that.

Dot was still on her way back from Lichfield.

By rail to Coventry

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My form photo, probably from 1960-61, recently unearthed. The form teacher is Neddy Carter, and I can remember almost all the boys' names. I am standing almost on my own, on the left.
My form photo, probably from 1960-61, recently unearthed. The form teacher is Neddy Carter, and I can remember almost all the boys’ names. I am standing almost on my own, on the left.

We haven’t quite lost summer yet: today is warmish and Dot has gone for a walk in the city. While there she bought a lot of printer paper, and I went up in the car to pick it up. Earlier this morning, the MX5 was at last taken away to be repaired, and we have a Nissan Micra in the drive. Surprisingly, the man who fetched the MX5 drove it away. I warned him the front had fallen off once, and the back tyre was losing air, but he didn’t seem worried. Not after I gave him a cup of tea, anyway.

Yesterday I spent mainly getting to Coventry and back, with a brief break around 4.40pm when I spoke to Andrew in hospital for about 40 minutes, and had a chat with the senior nurse. Andrew doesn’t seem too bad. He has a large bear. I went to Coventry by rail, starting at 12.30 and transferring to Euston by tube before a one-hour journey to Coventry. From there it was about a half-hour bus trip to the hospital. On the way back I got an earlier and faster train than I had expected, but unfortunately it was delayed because of a signalling problem between Rugby and Milton Keynes. Still, I got home about 10.45pm and finished one of my birthday books, Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie. Good prize-winning SF with some very original ideas.

On Tuesday I had expected a quiet day but Philip Robinson was very anxious to get on Facebook so that he could contact (or be contacted by) someone he met on holiday. So I spent a couple of hours fixing him up with a Facebook account and a couple of friends. He found the guy he was looking for, and we sent him a Friend Request.

The excitement on Monday centred on the DCC meeting. I spent much of the day writing a Finance Report and sorting out a few other details. The meeting was at Howard’s and so featured much wine and nibbles, which I’m not sure the vicar was expecting. As it turned out, the meeting was the longest I’ve ever experienced, finishing at 10.10, when Judy gave us a lift home (we’d walked there). No doubt things will quieten down, but I guess this is the sort of thing that happens when the vicar is single and has too much spare time.

The drama about the water leak continues, with Stuart complaining about more or less everything but at least arranging for progress to made. He’s had Colin digging up the neighbour’s garden and searching for absent stopcocks, and is now complaining about the insurance policy, which looks fine to me. I think he’d really like the church to be liable to pay huge amounts of money…

As I mentioned last time, I went to the Seagull last Sunday on my own, as Dot was not feeling too well and Phil was under a lot of pressure from various sources (though not Anglian Water or Stuart). I read half a dozen poems which seemed to be well received. Well, no-one threw anything.

Arsenal win after extra time by Suffolk poets

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Dot settles down to a bit of navigation in Frejus.
Dot settles down to a bit of navigation in Frejus.

 

Here we are in a new month, and my shoulders are feeling a bit sensitive. I don’t know why, but no doubt a forthcoming visit to Scarborough will put them right. Or not.

Not quite such a busy weekend, though we spent the afternoon on Saturday at the Suffolk Poetry Festival in Stowmarket. We decided to take the train, which proved a sound idea. The weather was quite reasonable, and dry.

We were part of a group representing the Seagull and organised by Kaaren Whitney, wearing a Massachusetts T-shirt. Dot and I did some tanka and I read a couple of other poems. Other readers were Sue and Elizabeth, and I think we held our own quite well. James Knox Whittet was also there, as president of the society, but he was not reading. As always the quality varied enormously, but overall it was enjoyable until a trio from Woodbridge went way over their allotted time. We had intended to stay a little longer, but we were so irritated that we left early and so were able to catch the Cup Final on TV. Arsenal beat Aston Villa impressively, 4-0. Dot left her jacket behind, but Sue rushed out with it as I was returning for it.

On the Sunday I was preaching again (shortage of alternatives), and after lunch Dot and I went to see Jessie, dodging the showers. She seemed quite well, and the cake was ginger. Before that, of course, we visited the cemetery, where again we managed to avoid getting wet, except underfoot.

Earlier in the week we had our hair cut (Wednesday), and on Thursday Dot helped to interview Paul Henderson for the role of DSSO. She also gave him a lift to Diocesan House and I went to pick him up, because she had to stay on and do more interviewing. I had tea with him, and when Maryta returned from a bout of horse-riding, I was shown the garden and its vegetables. I got home just before Dot.

On Friday the Eagles came for supper and stayed till about 1am, by which time I had been asleep for a short while. I’m finding it hard to stay awake if it’s late, because the conversation was certainly not boring, and we are much on the same wavelength. We played them some music and showed them some pictures, and Sue and Dot completed the minutes of a meeting earlier in the week which – sadly – wound up the Norfolk Association for Primary Headteachers (NAFPHT). All good things…

Apparently we are involved in a 5-2 diet, which involves not eating much on two days out of seven. I have lost a bit of weight, as well as impetus.

Going for ride after a fall

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Dot looking lovely in the garden
Dot looking lovely in the garden

Winter is reluctant to let us go; still a chilly wind today, though it was very pleasant (as it often is) at the top of the Rosary when  I called in on the way back from fetching my pills from the chemist.

This was my second visit to the Rosary in less than  a week: on Thursday I walked up there and fell over while greeting a woman who was looking for her aunt’s grave. Did some damage to my hand and wrist, as well as spraining my ankle. Bruising has spread in strange ways: bits that were bruised to start with now aren’t, while bits that weren’t (inner wrist and outside of thumb) are now badly discoloured. Still quite painful if I get it in the wrong position, but on the plus side (for me) I can still play the guitar and (for the woman I was greeting) I found the grave she was looking for. She was very concerned about me and gave me her bottle of water.

Dot is up at the UEA today giving her presentation as party of a UEA/Schools philosophy conference. She has been very nervous about it. Later I shall be going to St Luke’s for the parish agm and dinner.

After falling over last Thursday I went with Dot to the Paston annual meeting, at which the sandwiches were very good; so as there were only 13 of us, we took some home. All the usual suspects except Lucy, who has shingles. Fred has shingles too, and we’re going on holiday with him in about ten days. Lots of it about. Well, two lots so far. The annual meeting was fine, though the room got rather cold later on. Nice view of the sea.

Big surprise on Friday, when Linda didn’t change the time of our hair appointment. In the evening we went with the Robinsons to the Red Lion at Eaton to celebrate Philip’s birthday. He thinks it’s the best food in Norwich, but it’s not really in Norwich, and I’m not sure about the quality either. Nevertheless it was very good. I confined myself to fish on the assumption (probably correct) that I wouldn’t be able to cut much with my injured hand. Spreading butter was not easy either. Afterwards they came back here for coffee, and I think I went to sleep. Must have been the stress. No-one seemed to mind.

On Saturday, as Norwich City FC threw away their chance of automatic promotion by getting a man sent off and drawing 1-1 with Rotherham, Dot spent most of the day at Acle – rehearsing in the afternoon and performing in the church in the evening with Sillars Orchestra. Obviously I attended the latter, which was very good indeed, especially the second half. I sat with Graham, who we’re going on holiday with, and Neville, who thought the second half should have been first. I definitely didn’t. Refreshments at half time too!

Another busy day on Sunday when, after I preached in the morning and notching up a hat-trick of Sunday sermons, Phil came round in the afternoon to rehearse and eat, before all three of us went the Seagull Theatre and performed three songs. I think Dot was flaked out, but she performed heroically, and it was well received. I also read a poem, and Kaaren filled me in on what was required for the Suffolk Poetry Festival (five minutes).

Yesterday, despite the chilly wind, Dot and I went for a 35-minute walk round the riverside path and, after lunch and a rest, called in at Morrisons for £100 worth of food, plus a new kettle. Then we watched quite a lot of TV.

Rattling around as usual

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Fireworks at the Castle, as seen from Aspland RoadFireworks at the Castle, as seen from Aspland Road

As I sit here writing this, my wife is mixing with Royalty. A governor of Little Plumstead Primary School, she is meeting Prince Edward (Earl of Wessex) as he visits the school as part of a Norfolk tour. She was panicking slightly as she left because she had just received an e-mail saying that all the parking places were booked and she should park at the church. She wasn’t sure where that was, but no doubt it all turned out all right.

The weather has remained fairly wintry – or at least autumny. I guess it will remain so till about next May. Not sure humans were ever meant to live at these latitudes. Things have been quite hectic, even without the royalty.

Last Saturday I secured an appointment with my uncle Paul and delivered a version of our family tree that he had requested. Needless to say, he didn’t remember requesting it, but he remembers very little nowadays except who people are. When I rang him to arrange the visit, my cousin Stephen was with him, and I had a quick chat with him. He was very upbeat, despite worsening MS. After a pleasant half an hour, I left Paul to his Wiltshire Farms meal and the opportunity to examine the tree. I’ve had no feedback yet, but he was very appreciative of all my efforts. I said I had enjoyed doing it, which was true.

In the evening we visited another Paul – Henderson of that ilk – who was singing in the Philharmonic at St Andrew’s Hall at the time. Good programme: Debussy’s La Mer (orchestra only), then Lloyd’s Mass, which was excellent. Afterwards Paul and Maryta came back for coffee as the rain beat down, and I drove them home.

Another busy day on Sunday: first the Remembrance Communion at church, led by Howard and with Eleanor officiating and preaching. Reading of the names was emotional as always. Phil had called off both church and the Seagull because of work pressures; so in the afternoon Dot and I drove to Aldeburgh to see James Knox Whittet’s exhibition of sonnets and pictures relating to Islay. Although we missed the opening, we were there in time to see James and his wife – and sample some Islay whisky.

We followed this with fish and chips next door at the Galleon (also excellent) and a brief walk on the seafront in the darkness before heading north to Lowestoft. Dot remembered where there was a Morrisons garage and so we were able to save some money on petrol (we had a voucher). We arrived in Pakefield early and so drove down to the harbour and got a drink at the Harbour Inn, which was unexpected and pleasant. Then on to the Seagull, where we rehearsed for a while. Very few people present; so I got an opportunity to sing three songs and read two poems. Dot accompanied me on two of the songs, but declined on the third.

When we set off for Norwich I left my glasses behind. After searching exhaustively for them at home on Wednesday (after managing without them for a couple of days, assuming they’d turn up) I e-mailed Ian, who not only had found them but was about to travel to Norwich; so he dropped them off yesterday afternoon, while I was out but Dot wasn’t.

Travelled to North Walsham on Monday for a meeting of the Paston Trustees, during which Lucy outlined plans for yet another grant bid – this time for a project that had to be completed by the end of March next year. I pointed out the ridiculously short time frame, but to no avail. She is bidding for the money.

In the early evening Naomi arrived to stay for a couple of nights while she completed some work at the UEA. She planned to leave at 8.30 the following morning, but it was after 9.30 before she appeared. Still, all apparently went well. In the afternoon I had my urology appointment at Cromer. They were running nearly an hour late, and none of the expected things like x-ray and scanning happened. I had a flow test, which was OK, and a bit of an examination, but failed to convince the doctor that anything was wrong. So no change there, then.

Yesterday we took the MX5  in to the garage because of a rattle that I had been worried about for some time. I went for a run with mechanic Wayne (nice bloke), who diagnosed it en route as a loose caliber pin sheath (not sure that’s the right word) on the left front wheel. We left it while he packed it with grease and made sure there was no risk of anything going wrong when Dot travels to Liverpool in about ten days. When we picked it up again in late afternoon, it was much better: Dot also got some new mats, which were remarkably cheap, given the cost of everything else with the name Mazda on it.

While the car was in the garage I paid some cheques in and then went to see The Pity of War, a short piece written by and starring David Newham on the friendship between Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen and including (of course) some of their work. While waiting to go in I bumped into Sue and Roger, and sat with them. Also said hello to Trevor Burton, another ex-colleague and actor, afterwards, as well as congratulating David.

Unfortunately, though, I had to rush off, because I had an appointment to meet Joy McCall and Nick Gorvin at 3pm to discuss plans for my Iona book, which Joy insists on financing. First time I’ve been to her house, which is impressive – especially the Garden Room. All specially adapted so that she can move around freely in her wheelchair. Also met her husband Andy for the first time and was able to check that he didn’t mind his wife spending her money in producing a book for me. He didn’t.

After some deep discussion and a brief chat about the book, I have agreed to make it thicker so that it can be perfect bound. Joy insists. I think Nick is a bit bemused by the whole thing. I suppose I am really.

Oliver hits a dozen

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When I dropped in at St Peter Hungate yesterday – it was open as part of the annual Heritage celebrations – someone asked if it was a special day, since people seemed to be celebrating. I quickly pointed out that it was my grandson’s birthday, than which you can hardly get more special. Oliver is 12, and a student of Sir Henry Floyd Grammar School at Aylesbury. We spoke to him on Facetime this evening. He seems to be having a good time. Will make further checks tomorrow.

Hungate had an exhibition about the first world war which was small enough to be both accessible and moving.  It also had trustee Carol Hardman, who turned out to be a friend of Rob Knee’s and a bit of an enthusiast. So that was good.

I had dropped in after dropping out of Elizabeth McDonald’s Paston lecture at the Maid’s Head, mainly because I couldn’t hear it and partly because I’d heard it before. I dropped back in at the end and chatted to her. The hotel had not served her well by putting her in a room that was too small for the impressive turnout and not providing her with a microphone. The audience drifted into the vestibule and showed commendable persistence in sticking with it.

In a slightly less popular event, we held our monthly cake and compline with the Archers, Vicky and Judy at Number 22. We also invited Vicky Lenton, but that was a mistake. Those e-mail addresses can get you into an awful lot of trouble. I could have invited someone I hardly know who actually turned up, for instance. As it was the usual suspects ate some cake that Dot had baked and pronounced it very good.

Going back in time, last Sunday saw us at St Augustine’s, with me leading the service and Dot doing the intercessions. Seemed a long time since we’d been there. As usual the congregation doubled the moment the clock struck 11. In the evening Dot and I went to the Seagull to hear James Knox Whittet and others. I read four poems, and Dot got into conversation with Anne KW, telling her about Oxnead. As a result I invited them, but they were unable to come. However James wants to be involved with Chronicle, so that’s all good.

On Monday we had the usual poor turnout at the DCC meeting, with only Nicholas, Howard, Ian, Dot and I attending. I gave a financial report: a crucial issue s was left unresolved because of the small turnout, but there you go. Nicholas’ departure date is still up in the air, and the strain may be telling.

For some reason I can’t remember I had agreed to play chess on Tuesday, taking part in what is termed a 100-board match, but what is really ten ten-board rapid matches, in which a combined force of Norwich Dons and Broadland swamped a Norfolk and Norwich team at Langley Prep School, winning 61½-38½. I contributed a measly four points to our total, playing by far my best game in the first round against a strong junior and then gradually deteriorating in an interesting variety of ways. I am not really built for rapid chess, but at least they don’t grade it.

On Wednesday Chronicle had a dress rehearsal for Oxnead, and I reluctantly donned a long waistcoat and one or two other things. Painful. It emerged that Caroline is likely to be leaving to live in Cumbria – at least for a while – so the long-term future of the group hangs in the balance. On the plus side, James Knox Whittet may join us. But we need a woman. (Notice the restraint involved in my lack of comment there?)

Afterwards I went to see the doctor and as usual failed to communicate what exactly was wrong with me. Still, I am having numerous blood tests (or one blood test for numerous things) and may be referred to a urologist. I’m not sure that’s what’s required, but I can offer no alternative. My daily intake of Lansaprozole has been doubled, and I’m not sure about that either. On the plus side, my blood pressure is going in the right direction.

I am just back from an unsuccessful foray to the Guildhall to hear a talk on Norwich murderers. The organisers went one better than yesterday: this time it was full to capacity a quarter of an hour before it started. Planning a few additional murders, I went instead to Pull’s Ferry and saw the Watergate Room, which I thought was not normally open, but which is in fact open every weekend during summer. Interesting fact: the ferry closed in 1943; it was there because Bishop Bridge was originally open only to people visiting the Cathedral and its environs.

Meanwhile Dot has abandoned her cake-making to meet Sue Eagle in the city. Later we head for Lavenham with the Hendersons.

David, Chrissy and party

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Dot, Amy and Oliver on the brink
Dot, Amy and Oliver on the brink

David, Chrissy and the grandchildren have come and gone. It was a rather unusual visit that seemed to pass too quickly. It opened with a bang: Dot arranged an Arbonne party at the house for Wednesday evening, to which many of her friends were invited. Parking problems were surmounted through the use of chauffeurs (Julia), remote  parking (Anne and Bridget) and my positioning the MX5 in Rosary Road to make room for Sue and Judy. Too much detail, I hear you say.

The party seemed to go well, though I’m not sure how financially successful it was: in any case there is a suspicion that most of the friends came to see Chrissy, David and the grandchildren. I can hardly blame them for that.  I should make clear that it is Chrissy who is the Arbonne consultant, not Dot.

The weather has been warm, and some of the party was in the garden. On the Thursday Dot and I took the children to Winterton, one of their favourite spots, where we had a late lunch at the cafe and followed it up by some hide-and-seek in the dunes, which my ankle stood up to reassuringly well. Even Dot was able to move about a bit 🙂 We also spent some time on the beach, when all of us paddled.

While we did this, David and Chrissy were doing my Norwich Paston walk, partly as a test for some software he’s writing. They appeared not to get lost. There was also a great deal of table tennis played, with Oliver improving visibly as the three days progressed. In the end he was beating both Dot and me. Amy spent a lot of time watching some kind of drama on her small screen, and did not welcome intruders.

L:ate on the Friday David and Chrissy took my car to Suffolk to visit a cousin  of Chrissy’s. Earlier Richard had called round coincidentally and was able to talk to David about websites and similar matters.

The Caddington contingent returned home on Saturday just after lunch, following a visit to Hobbycraft and Morrisons and an unsuccessful search for a Mr Whippy. Sorry, Amy. The journey went well – probably a good time to travel.

After a rest in the afternoon, Dot and I went next door for a meal. Much of it was in the back garden, the weather still being very warm. But it ended in a thunderstorm:  we rushed home to take washing off the line when we saw the lightning, but returned for another half an hour.  Good food and drink and some enjoyable conversation, mainly philosophical 🙂

But this thunderstorm was nothing compared to the one that hit Norwich yesterday afternoon. We had been to church, where I preached on God being with us, and were sitting watching television when there was a huge, prolonged cloudburst. It wasn’t long before water came into our living room again. It seemed to come down the walls, but there was more on the floor than seemed to be indicated by marks on the walls. We got the towels out again and mopped it up.

Next door had flooding in the bathroom, and are having a builder round tomorrow. He is popping in to see us too.

In the evening Dot and I went to Lowestoft for a Seagull performance. We read a tanka series together and then I read a couple of my other poems which were well received, especially by Kaaren Whitney, who wants me to read at some other place in Suffolk in August. Uniquely, there was a guest poet, Rodney Pybus, who was pretty good, but it left little time for others, and the whole thing didn’t finish till after 10pm, by which time we were pretty tired.

Now you see it – oh no, maybe you don’t

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Flooding at Pull's Ferry
Flooding at Pull’s Ferry

The storm surge hit the east coast on the evening of December 5. It was the biggest surge since 1953, and there was a huge threat to property and to people’s lives. If you had switched on the BBC’s News at Ten, you would have been able to see exactly what was happening … No, wait, you wouldn’t have seen anything at all about it, because Nelson Mandela died at exactly the same time.

I have already written a piece on my website about what a shocking mismanagement of news this was, but the former news editor of the EDP tells me I’m wrong. I now see that it was exactly the right decision for news editors, but exactly wrong for viewers.

Anyway, as I write I believe the coast road at Walcott is still closed, and many homes along the coast have been flooded or destroyed. Homes have fallen off the dunes at Hemsby, where I spent my holidays as a child, when the sea never came anywhere near the dunes. The tidal Wensum flooded a bit at Norwich, but not much. Haddiscoe, way inland, was cut off.

None of this affected me much. On the Friday night Dot and I were at Open Studios in Norwich, where we bought a picture from Martin Laurance and some art boxes from Rupert Mallin. On the Saturday we were at Bacton Village Hall, just along the road from devastated Walcott. We had been diverted through Knapton by police, but this was because someone had turned a car over on the Bacton road from North Walsham. Quite an achievement.

The village hall event was a celebration of the Paston Heritage Society’s year – a very eventful one, culminating in the big exhibition at the Norfolk Record Office. Excellent refreshments and a slice of video from Peter Stibbons: a fun evening. Today Dot and I went to the last of the eight lectures: Rob Knee on the Paston Legacy. I read one of my poems in the middle of it, which was pleasing – for me, anyway.

It was my second performance in three days: on Sunday the band (Far Cry) travelled to Lowestoft to perform at the Seagull. Rob was there too, reading his winning poem in a recent competition. We did three songs – The Rolling Hills of Pakefield; Man in the Mask; and Falling Apart – as a foursome, with me on vocals and guitar, Phil on the other guitar and Dot and Emily (Phil’s daughter) on violin. As Emily had not rehearsed with us, she did well to even think about it. I think we sounded OK, but they’re a nice crowd who wouldn’t tell us if we hadn’t. We got some good applause, anyway.

Sunset glow on a ploughed field at Rockland
Sunset glow on a ploughed field at Rockland

Since the storm the weather has been calm but pretty chilly. On Monday Dot and I visited Geoff , who continues to recover well. He has walked to the village shop and been driven to a couple of events. He can walk around the house (slowly) without a stick. We had quite a long chat with him while Sophie was out, and I collected some antibiotics for him (for his toes) from the village surgery.

In the evening we went to the DCC, which proved quite short as there were several absences and Howard was there only briefly as someone who he hadn’t seen for a while had turned up unexpectedly. We discussed how to split the parish share and decided on 77-23 (it was 80-20). If I was treasurer, I would worry about this. Oh, I am.

On Tuesday, before being entertained by the Archers for Tuesday Group, I went to Fakenham for a Chronicle meeting. Sadly, Kay was absent as she had had a lot of trouble looking after her father-in-law, who broke his hip in Barcelona and had to be taken back to the Isle of Man. What are the chances of that happening? Anyway the three of us had soup and cheese and discussed our Oxnead project. Rob had written seven poems already; I had written one; and Caroline had written a half. Much to do. We are aiming at a book and premiere (possibly at Oxnead) in September.

Back in Norwich I got my new non-varifocal glasses from Boots and was relieved to find I could see through them (they’re for computer and music, but wearable most of the time if I want to). A much better solution.

Meanwhile Phil and Joy are still in Southampton, and Lucy is slightly improved, though I have heard nothing directly. My cousin Sandy in South Africa has lost her husband Alex, who was very generous to us while we were out there. He died of liver cancer, quite suddenly.

Joe has had a full page in the EDP on his photography, and he and Birgit are going to Germany for Christmas. I have written a few cards, and Dot has bought lots of presents.

Short hair, broken fan

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Another shot from our Whitlingham walk
Another shot from our Whitlingham walk

Here I am waiting to have a sigmoidoscopy. It doesn’t happen till early this afternoon, but already my stomach is churning (actually it’s being doing it for days). Not sure if it’s foreboding or an actual stomach upset. The operation is minor, of course, but it’s the bit before and after I’m not keen on. I’ll keep you posted if I survive.

Dot is out visiting a school but will be back to accompany me to the hospital, in case I need sedation, which I am much in favour of. I am totally against unnecessary pain, and I’m not all that much in favour of necessary pain.

Happily our heating is back on. The boiler fan broke on Tuesday, leaving us with an electrically powered group meal in the evening. Quite cosy in fact, but the rest of the house was decidedly chilly. The gas man turned up the next day at 10am, at precisely the same time as our hairdresser, who had been rescheduled from Monday. He took some time to work out the problem, but then happily was able to fix it.

Meanwhile Dot was rather nervously having her hair cut short: it looks good. Mine is pretty short too, but it pales into insignificance beside Dot’s. Hair and boiler were both sorted in time for Dot and I to drive to the NRO to hear Anna’s “Paston Treasure” talk, which as very good. Judy was also there and so, surprisingly, was Lucy, rising from her sickbed and driven by Diana.

In the evening, while Dot was at orchestra, I walked up to the Maddermarket and got a ticket to see The Seagull, in which two of my former colleagues at ECN were performing. The theatre was sparsely populated, but the acting was good, though I think the guy who shot himself at the end (spoiler alert) should have done it much earlier. Trevor Burton was excellent, as was David Newham. The older woman/famous actress didn’t help the plot by being clearly more attractive than the young Nina who was supposed to be luring Trevor away from her.

I nearly missed the opportunity of seeing the play because I was unexpectedly asked to play chess for the A team in the evening, but this proved to be a false alarm: one of the regular players recovered from a bad back and beat the Norfolk champion. So that was all good.

Yesterday I called on the parish treasurer, Susannah, who lives in a house overlooking Carey’s Meadow in Thorpe. A totally stunning view. We had a conversation about splitting the parish share, which we agreed should be 70-30. I have no idea whether this is right or not. I suspect not. (Definitely not. – Ed. mf)

Later, while Dot was shopping after lunch with Sue Eagle and friends, I drove to Paston for a meeting of the trustees. A painfully slow process – and that was just getting there. The meeting itself was OK, though I was surprised to hear that Lucy was disputing the bill from the UEA, although  she’d told me she was paying it. I am having nothing more to do with it.

Hethersett: end of an era

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Auntie Ethel's bungalow at Hethersett, after several weeks' work
Auntie Ethel’s bungalow at Hethersett, after several weeks’ work cleaning and clearing

Summer lingers on, though there’s a touch of autumn in the air. Today we had our hedge cut by Colin, after a slight alarm when the Norfolk Wildlife Trust said they had no-one to open the gate. Bet they’d have found someone if a great-crested newt was in trouble. Anyway, Colin managed by climbing over the wall and erecting his platform, assisted by his son Jordan, one of Dot’s former pupils.

Also this morning Paston Heritage Society’s UEA intern David Whittle dropped in to pick up leaflets for distribution. At least, that’s what I thought he was doing, but he stayed for a good while, consuming tea and biscuits and taking notes. Dot is now out on the town with Anne, and tonight we’re going to an organ concert at St Andrew’s Hall, featuring the Mozart Orchestra.

The car’s air-conditioning is still unfixed. The garage had the car most of Tuesday, then rang me to say the compressor they’d ordered didn’t fit. And so it goes on. I’d walked back home from the garage, calling on Nicholas to get him to sign some cheques and then at the church hall to read the meter and retrieve last Sunday’s collection. After happening on Phil at Fye Bridge and reporting on Andrew’s condition, I was rather late home and had to rush to Dragon Hall for a talk on Robert Toppes that turned out to be very good. Some Paston references, so I bought the book.

The Seagull had an unusual weekday version of their poetry and music event on Thursday:  Dot and I (she “fresh” from a DSSO day at Letton Hall) went, and I read three poems I had written based on our stay in Yorkshire. Dot also helped read a couple of tanka strings.

On Friday we both went to Hethersett to pick up some of the last stuff from A Ethel’s bungalow. My last visit, so I took a couple of pictures: amazing how big the rooms seemed. Afterwards we went to Park Farm for lunch and glimpsed chess player Steve Moore also partaking. Dot went on to one of her schools at Tasburgh, while I fulfilled my mission of getting her pills from the chemist.

Tomorrow we will visit A Jessie, so it is imperative we locate the missing photographs that she’s asked for. They are in the house somewhere…