A warm and dry day at the moment, though we’ve had plenty of rain in the last few days. The worst was on Wednesday, when Dot went down to see Barbara in her newly re-tyred car. Unfortunately, when she backed out from the parking space at Metfield she collided with a metal plate on the fence which managed to drag out the front of the car and deposit it on the ground. We then managed to do all the wrong things in the wrong order, with the result that the car is now in our drive awaiting a visit from someone representing the underwriters, who is resolutely failing to give us a time of arrival.

First Dot rang Green Flag, who came and fixed up the car so that it could be driven home. Unfortunately the GF man also suggested she ring the insurance company, and while she was doing this it got extremely complicated. She didn’t want to take pictures, because it now didn’t look bad, and she forgot to mention that the GF man had come. To cut a long story short, the insurance company sent a very nice man from down the road who transported the car to our driveway.

Meanwhile I had driven down to Metfield and back for no good reason (I thought the car might be taken to a local garage, which would have left Dot stranded). Because we were then away for two days, the underwriters’ man couldn’t contact us (despite Dot saying specifically that he should ring her mobile number) and he is still proving reluctant to actually speak to us. No doubt he fancies a long weekend away.

All very annoying. At least most of the rain happened while Dot was in the house.

On Thursday we headed for Leyton and a couple of days with the Coomes. We were delayed slightly because Dot had left her computer charger cable and plug at Barbara’s, and Barbara had hung it in a bag on her door for us to pick up. This added both time and distance to our journey, and the bit on the A140 was particularly slow: I always hated that road, and it has, unbelievably, got worse. The rest of the journey down the A12 wasn’t too bad, fortunately, and we arrived at Leyton around 1.15pm.

After a leisurely lunch we decided it was too late to go anywhere before the journey to Bond Street for our evening meal at a Lebanese restaurant called Fairuz. The tube was packed (Coomes said this was strange for a Sunday: I’m worried about him), and it started to rain as we emerged – fortunately only lightly. The meal was excellent, as was the wine. By the time we got home I could hardly keep my eyes open.

Yesterday it was dry and we went to William Morris’s house in Walthamstow. I drove, which was more of a challenge that I thought it would be. London is thick with buses, and there are so many markings and signs that it is hard to keep a lookout for pedestrians. But we eventually made it, and Dot spotted a car park. The house is beautifully organised as a museum, with interesting displays, and it’s not too big. We ended with a cup of tea in the cafe, during which I got a phone call from Minster Lodge to say that Andrew had been taken into hospital again after behaving bizarrely.

I rang the hospital today and even spoke to Andrew, who didn’t seem too bad at first but then became rather agitated. The nurse said he had seen Andrew like this before. Haven’t we all?

Two other noteworthy events last week. On Monday I lost a chess game to John Allison in the Dons knockout competition. I got a very good game and with one move I could have had a winning position. Unfortunately I didn’t see it, and it’s particularly annoying because it’s a move I could have seen and would have seen in the past. It reinforces my decision not to keep playing (except in exceptional circumstances).

Much more noteworthy on Tuesday was our neighbour Simon’s funeral at the RC Cathedral. Dot and I walked up there and met Bridget on the way. She was worried because she has a problem with her stomach and is awaiting tests.  The funeral itself was packed and moving: it was led by a family friend, who is a deacon at the Cathedral. Bob and Mary were there, but Mary was too emotional to talk afterwards.

We didn’t go to the cremation, but we did pop in to the Coach and Horses for the Reception, where we talked to Mairead’s friend Rachel (daughter of the deacon), and to Rachel’s mother, who is really nice. Also had a brief chat to Simone, who is Bronwen’s friend – bit of a coincidence – and said Bronwen was still in Norwich. Rather worrying.