Unusual week, in which we have seen few other human beings, except in passing. Mainly because Dot has been recovering from tonsillitis and has been staying at home (except for a visit to Godfreys, though that’s more or less obligatory), but also because I’ve taken the opportunity to catch up with a pile of tasks I’d set myself. These included sending David some poetry and stories for him to work his design magic on; printing out some more copies of my Lent poetry book and sending two (with an introduction) to Roger and Chrissy; editing and updating the new Paston website; writing two more poems; sending various messages to people trying to persuade them to preach at St Augustine’s; and all the usual paperwork, shopping, banking and so on.
Doesn’t sound all that much, but it was time-consuming, especially when I decided to install a couple of software updates, which took about 90 minutes. I’ve also finished reading The New Confessions by William Boyd, which was a complex and very well written account of the journey of a “failed genius” of a film director through the first half of the 20th century. Did a nice job of combining education – in the best sense – and enjoyment. A big book.
And I have also managed to get out for a reasonably long walk every day. Yesterday I did 3½ miles, including Carey’s Meadow, Pinetrees, Lion Wood and the Rosary, thus neatly avoiding the riots in London and Manchester. Not much lawlessness in Norwich, though the litter bin has been thrown down the steps again (at 1.50am on Monday) and then rolled over from its new home against the wall at the top of the road, and into a parked car. I blame the parents.
