Late in the day on the footbridge over the railway near Thorpe marshes.
On Thursday Dot and I drove out to Hempton, near Fakenham, where Caroline Gilfillan was launching her new book, Poet in Boots, at the Bell. This was, I thought, a pleasant country pub, but Dot was not too impressed. I was able to have a beer and go to the loo without any trouble: what more could one want?
The launch consisted of a few poems read by Caroline and some songs from her friends, one or two of which were very good. All round it was a very good evening, though we only really knew Caroline.
The next day was Oliver’s birthday, and we sent him messages, hoping that he got his card. We will be taking his presents at the end of this week. At the end of the day it was warm and sunny; so we went for a walk on Thorpe marshes, which was marred only by flying insects, one of which bit Dot on her eye, which gave her a bit of trouble for a couple of days. Otherwise it was an idyllic evening, with a couple of herons and calm water, and a grebe in the distance.
On Saturday we went to the Hendersons’ for an evening meal after getting rid of stuff from the garage. We expected it to be just the four of us, but their neighbours from Lime Tree Road were there as well. Nice food, pleasant company. Sunday was rainy. After church, where we played the music in the absence of Phil, I did some church sitting for the Heritage Day while Dot went home to practise her violin, her time being cut short a bit by her neglecting to take the door key. As I had started the day by forgetting the church hall key, this rounded things off nicely. (All because we were using the courtesy car.) The church hall water leak problem is ongoing, but now there is a lighting problem. The vicar has apparently decided to leave everything practical in Howard’s hands, which is all very nice, but Howard has a job, a wife, two daughters and a grandchild.
After church Dot and I went to see Jessie, which was lovely as always.
Monday saw us heading for Wimbledon in rainy weather that turned quite chilly later. We stopped for refreshments at the Services on the M11, because I was feeling pretty tired, but then continued without incident across the Dartford bridge (which reminds me, I have to pay for the crossing – pause – done) and along the southern section of the M25 before following the satnav directions in towards Raynes Park, where we parked in Waitrose’s car park next to the station.
I was driving Dot down because of anticipated difficulty in finding the place, and was then due to get the train back while she met up with Barbara. This actually happened, but we had loads of time to spare; so we went into Starbuck’s for a snack and then wandered round a bit in the rain. Eventually I got an earlier train than intended and then a tube from Waterloo to Stratford, which turned out to be a bleaker station than I expected. So I persuaded a ticket lady to let me out and use the toilets in the Westfield centre, and then let me back in again. I then walked up and down the platform – it was getting pretty chilly – until the train arrived. I had a specified seat in first class, which turned out to be not available, but there were loads of others and I got a better one (single, with table).
Today was much better after a rainy start, and I went into the city to pay in some cheques, including one for me (from the PHS) that I’d found in my jacket pocket. Ran into some people looking for Dragon Hall in the wrong place, and then spoke to Ed Read, who told me he and Jenny were going to try and adopt. Made myself hot lunch with leftover toad in the hole and – to be honest – rather wasted the afternoon, listening to YouTube songs and eventually getting round to finishing this, just as I see Dot is about to arrive.
My shoulders are much better, despite (or possibly because of) strenuous exercise in Scarborough. Still, I think I will go to see Sharon on Wednesday and see what she says.
Pre-Scarborough, we enjoyed a compline and cake evening at Howard and Anna’s with Vicky, Judy and the Archers, which was as convivial as regular readers (Dot and I ) would expect. This was followed by something almost as exciting – the Archant pensioners’ coffee morning, though the only editorial presence apart from myself were Robin and Shelagh. We had quite a long chat with Hazel, Alan’s widow.
Dot and I took the train to Scarborough, and the journey up there was very pleasant, with plenty of room in the trains and everything on time. The Evetts met us at the station at about 2.15pm, and after refreshments we walked into town from their flat by the high-level route, which we hadn’t done before, and after a snack in M&S (and purchase of wine and biscuits) got the No.7 bus back– our only casualty being a seagull bomb attack on Julia’s jacket.
The next day was pleasantly warm, and we walked in to town by way of the beach, stopping en route for tea/coffee at the Palm Court cafe and buying hats to protect us from the sun. After lunch at the Cafe Columbus it was suggested (I cannot say by whom) that we talk a ride on the speedboat advertised opposite. Julia demurred, but the rest of us went for it and found ourselves on the faster of the two vessels – the Rocket. It was an exciting ride round into North Bay and back: only ten minutes but pretty exhilarating, with plenty of up and down as well as side to side. Happily, we did not get wet.
Afterwards, we walked round the harbour and had an ice cream before walking back up into the town (quite a climb) to catch the bus home. Quite along wait for the bus on this occasion.
Friday dawned much duller and with a spot of rain to start with. However, that was not repeated and by the time we had driven to Cedar Barn, near Thornton le Dale, the sun was shining so much that our outdoor snack with Janet and John (not the famous literary drop, but friends of Julia and Dave) was eaten under considerable heat. Dot and I had a Sally Lunn (an agreeable kind of Yorkshire teacake).
After leaving J & J we travelled to Sutton Bank (just under 1000ft), where we took in the “finest view in England” (James Herriott) before undertaking quite a strenuous walk to the Kilburn White Horse. This landed us too close to said horse to see it clearly; so after returning to the visitors’ centre for refreshment we drove to Kilburn itself for a fine view of it, thence returning to Scarborough past Byland Abbey and through Ampleforth.
We returned to Norwich on Saturday, a windy but quite pleasant day. This journey was more trying as the trains were pretty full. On the first stretch to York we sat next to two young couples who disposed of two bottles of wine in 45 minutes; on the next stretch (after our own modest refreshment at Costa) our neighbours were sharing what appeared to be champagne and looking extremely guilty. On the final stretch we were adjacent to a woman who had left her “vital” valuables in a hotel safe and was making arrangements over the phone to retrieve them.
In the evening we had arranged to go to a performance by Adrian and Bridget Plass at the Central Baptist Church. We went with Judy and met the Archers there. The new vicar-elect was also present, with some St Luke’s members, and we were introduced to him. Janet and Graham of Montauroux fame were also there. Had the opportunity to chat with Adrian and Bridget and bought the new book. It was an excellent evening, extremely funny at times but also moving.
It was a rare Sunday, as I was neither leading nor preaching, and I managed to avoid falling asleep (we were still both very tired after the journey and Dot had proclaimed a “2” day – we are on a 5-2 diet. In the evening however we were invited in impromptu manner to the Hendersons’ for a drink and both had a glass of wine there. But I had only one crisp.
Today is very pleasant. We discovered an attempted break-in yesterday that had damaged the garage door at the back; so it was fortunate indeed that builder Colin was due to come today to look at a few jobs that needed doing. He arrived while I was in the bath; so I had to get out to speak to him. I then got back into the bath while Dot went to a meeting at Thorpe High School, and Colin came back again to remove the door handle for comparison purposes. So I had to get out of the bath again. What fun.
The best news of the week happened before we went to Scarborough. Dot visited the doctor to get the results of a blood test and was told she did not have diabetes, and the relevant readings were all down. A weight off our minds.
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.
Summer seems to be approaching, at least for a while. Sunny and warm today, and we sat in the garden and drunk tea after Dot got back from one of her schools this afternoon. Earlier she came with me to the doctor’s, and I think he was intimidated into giving me a pretty thorough going over, though I think he believes nothing is wrong. So do I really. Nevertheless my blood pressure is still a bit high, and I have to return for a check in about a month. Meanwhile I am having a chest x-ray at the hospital, which apparently you can do on a drop-in basis, as long as they know your doctor is sending you.
While there Dot mentioned her heart did a funny sort of beat-skipping thing, with the result that she had to go to a clinic this afternoon and is booked in for something else. I don’t know the details, because she is now at a governors’ meeting at Little Plumstead, but she sounded pretty upbeat on the phone. So is Phil, who was at the hospital yesterday and has been promised some treatment to reduce muscle pain from his Parkinson’s.
The previous three days were taken up by Andrew. Phil drove me over to Coventry to fetch him on Monday, when it rained quite a lot, but not at the critical times. Because of road works we got on to the M11 going the wrong way, but were able to reverse that quite quickly. However, we mirrored the adventure coming back, when there was a huge hold-up approaching Cambridge on the A14, and I decided (as navigator) to continue down the M11 to Duxford and then go back up the A11. It seems a big diversion, but I think it was the right thing to do.
Before that we’d had a meal at Thrapston Little Chef, where Andrew was disconcerted to find no steak on the menu, but settled for barbecued chicken followed by (you guessed it) a sundae.
On Tuesday the weather was much better. Andrew and I walked into the city, heading for M&S, but discovered Peacock’s in the Mall and bought him a new jacket, new trousers, shirts, pants and socks, as all these seemed to be in short supply at Coventry (except the jacket, which was just in very bad shape). He declined my suggestion that we get him a haircut, and instead we had a coffee in the Arcade. Nasty moment there as he left for the toilet in the middle and (a) couldn’t find it and (b) took a long time to come back. I had visions of him wandering around Norwich (because the toilets were oddly outside the restaurant).
Anyway we found ourselves in the Castle Museum instead. Then after lunch Dot visited a school at Corton and I took Andrew to Barton Broad, which promised more than it delivered, then on to Walcott, where we got an ice cream, and Happisburgh, where we surveyed the recent surge damage and walked along the cliffs to see where the path had fallen into the sea.
Andrew was quite keen to go on a train, for some reason, so yesterday he and I took the train to North Walsham and walked through the town to the cemetery, where we met Dot, put flowers on the graves and drove home together. (Dot had meanwhile dropped in to see her aunt.)
After lunch we set off for Coventry and made quite good time, arriving at Minster Lodge at almost exactly 5pm, which was not the brightest thing to do. All well there – staff very pleased to see him back, or at least gave that impression – but then I tried to drive through the rush-hour traffic while avoiding the numerous road works. In the end I arrived by chance at Cheylesmore and sat in Dawlish Drive eating my chicken sandwich in the sun.
Afterwards I eventually found Binley and got some petrol at Morrisons before heading back to the A45 and home by the longer but easier route (M45, M1, A421), doing it in well under three hours. At Newport Pagnell services I was approached by a woman who was driving the wrong way down the M1 (bit of a theme, this) and wanted to know if there was any way she could turn round. I told her she would have to go on to the next junction, which was not far away. She was heading for Oxford, using “heading” in a completely different sense.
I arrived home about half an hour before Dot got back from orchestra rehearsal.
Happisburgh lighthouse from the now accessible pill box near the cliff edge.
Going back a bit, on Friday last week Dot and I went to another Julian Week lunchtime talk – this time by Dr Sarah Law on Julian and the Poetic Process. This was another really good one, despite the rather pathetic introducer, who seemed never to have seen a microphone before, let alone know how it worked. She propped it limply against the podium, where it was no use to man or beast. Fortunately the speaker overcame her ineptitude. That’s the trouble with these mystics: they don’t know how the world works.
Not true of Julian, of course, as former Archbishop Rowan Williams made clear in a much longer talk at the Cathedral the following morning, starting at 10.30am. Not much would get us out of bed that early on a Saturday, but he was well worth hearing, talking about Julian’s anti-theology and much else that I wish I could remember. Happily, I believe the talk is being printed, so I can go back and check. Many friends in the packed audience.
But I am leaping ahead. Friday contained more – starting with my picking up the St Augustine’s accounts file from Sarah, continuing with delivering some old videos etc to Stuart to sell in a sale at The Stage and ending with a concert at St Andrew’s Hall by the London Philharmonic. We had a front-row seat; however, it was strategically placed so that we couldn’t see the soloist and could only catch a glimpse of the conductor. Yes, dear reader, we were behind a pillar. I knew the pillar was there when I booked, but figured we could see behind it. Unhappily, the plan I consulted was inaccurate. On the plus side, we were perfectly placed for Dot to study the second violins in action. And the music was really good.
It was the first event of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival. The second, on Saturday morning, was erecting a cardboard copy of St Peter Mancroft outside the Forum. Unfortunately, it was very windy. The result was described by a friend as “underwhelming”. Harsh but fair.
Third day back from Catalonia and beginning to recover from the journey. Not the bit between Roses and St Pancras – the bit between St Pancras and Norwich. But it could have been worse. When I bought the tube ticket, I was told we had to travel via Holborn because of work on the Circle line. Simple enough, except that everyone else in London seemed to be doing the same thing.
After battling our way through the system we emerged at Liverpool Street to find no trains scheduled for Norwich. On mentioning to one railway guy that we wanted to travel to Norwich, he riposted: “You’ll be lucky.” But he had a twinkle in his eye and directed us to Platform 13, and the train to Southend. Apparently we had to alight at Billericay, catch a coach to Witham and then another train to Norwich. Us and a large number of Norwich City fans. Norwich City had just lost 4-1 to Chelsea.
And that’s roughly what happened, with a half-hour wait at Witham and no buffet on either of the trains. The Norwich train was painfully slow and felt as if it was going to break down any minute. We reached Norwich at about 12.30am. Happily the City fans did not turn nasty and were quite funny, except for their inability to control certain bodily functions. Note to City fans and young men everywhere: this is actually not funny at all. Really. What was funny was that all the railway staff had jackets bearing the words “Customer Services”, which obviously has a completely different meaning for them.
Anyway, back to the holiday, which was exceptionally good. Here is a day-by-day summary:
Friday (September 28): Straightforward journey by train and tube to our hotel, which turned out to be only yards from St Pancras Station. Excellent hotel (London Pullman), friendly staff. Walked to the station for good meal at Carluccio’s, followed by coffee/tea back at the hotel.
Saturday: Started off sunny, but worse and worse the further south we got. Raining at Roses. Early start in London (6am alarm) meant we were very tired towards the end. TGV very impressive up to Valence, then slower, but scenery was beautiful near the coast. In the hotel, which was first class, we had a really nice buffet meal. The quality of this was high all through the week. Half a bottle of wine free each time, and a huge choice of food.
Sunday: Fine, sunny but very windy on boat for our cruise to Cadaques, a stunningly beautiful town beloved of Salvador Dali. The coastline was rocky, and on the way back the rather large boat nosed into a cave for a close look. Act of bravado, or just normal behaviour for a Catalan? I suspect the latter. While in Cadaques we had a wander round the narrow and steep streets and eventually stopped for coffee (and loo) in a seafront cafe. Back in Roses we had lunch at the Balkan Grill (mushroom and garlic tapa with chips) then spent a couple of hours in the Citadel, a huge walled area full of history. All in all we walked about six miles during the day.
The coast path
Monday: Sunny and warm throughout. This was a free day, so we slept in a bit. Left at 11.15 for walk to north end of Roses and along the coast to the next village, a tiny one called Canyelles, where we had lunch in Antonio’s restaurant: grilled prawns and sangria. Delicious. On the way back we stopped at a small beach, where Dot paddled, and we saw huge numbers of Laser dinghies lined up for a big European event. Everywhere in Catalonia quite big fish were visible in the clear water. Back at the hotel we had a dip in the rather cool swimming pool, but it didn’t last long. Went to bed early after a short post-supper walk. Eight miles in all during the day.
Tuesday: Very warm again, and we spent all day in Barcelona – a two-hour coach trip away. After a comfort stop at a motorway service station (today featured the worst loos of the entire holiday) we progressed to the cathedral, which I’m sure would have been much more impressive without its scaffolding. What was visible was certainly up there, if you see what I mean, and even in October the building was surrounded by huge crowds, most of them probably on coach trips like us.A coach tour of Barcelona’s high spots followed, ending at one of the highest, from where we could look over the town and the huge port, featuring two or three massive cruise ships.Most of us were gasping for the loo by now, and again they were very poor (but at least they were there).
Dot and Monica in Barcelona
The coach dropped us at Placa de Catalunya for some free time, and here we met our friend Monica, who took us for a lovely lunch round the corner and off the beaten track. Really nice to see her: she was very welcoming and insisted on paying, which was not the idea at all. Rejoined the bus at 4.30pm for the trip back to Roses, and the guide, who was very nice but spent much of the time warning us about pickpockets, eventually stopped talking.
Wednesday: Again pleasantly warm. We took the optional excursion to Girona on advice from people on the previous trip (relayed through one of our more sociable members), and it was an outstanding trip. Girona is a lovely old town reminding me a little of Chur in Switzerland, but there was a great walk along the walls, which we followed with a coffee stop, where Dot made her first successful attempt at ordering tallat, as recommended by Monica. This is a strong, smallish coffee with a dash of milk, and Dot quickly became addicted. Afterwards we wandered the narrow streets and shopped a bit for gifts. Back in Roses for the afternoon Dot bought a scarf and we had a tapa each of chips and sauce. Catalonian tapas are quite big (one is usually enough), and they are very good at chips. Six miles in all today (3 yesterday), but not enough to offset the large evening meals and very tempting breakfasts.
The bridge at Besalu
Thursday: Sea mist at first, but soon sunny and warm. Left at 9.15 for official excursion to Figueres and the impressive Salvador Dali Foundation. An amazing place, and our appreciation of him as an artist went up several notches. After a crepe we took in his jewellery exhibition as well, then returned to the coach (this was more of a coach holiday than a train one) for a short drive to Besalu, a small town which features a spectacular fortified bridge. Lovely narrow streets again and a brilliant miniatures museum, of which the high point was the micro-miniatures, eg a camel train created in the eye of the needle (quite witty, that one). Afterwards we had time for a stroll and a delicious mango ice cream before returning to the coach.
Friday: Our final free day, so a slightly later start. Rather more cloud as we started our journey by road trail to Joncols. Bit chilly to start with, but it quickly cleared out as we got high up on the cliffs and into the Parc Naturel, which is apparently “sauvage”. For some reason the commentary seemed to assume that “sauvage” is an English word. Spectacular journey on rough roads, ending high up on a cliff with great views (after 100-yard walk). Whole thing was “magical” – Dot Lenton. On the way back by a slightly different route saw Angela and Gordon Reynolds hiking into the interior. Got to know them later in the bar after dinner, and it turns out she is a retired vicar and they live not far from St Luke’s! They passed us again as we sat in a cafe drinking sangria and eating tapas. Before returning to the hotel we watched the Lasers coming in after a day’s racing, and I helped a Swiss guy with his boat trailer. Claim to fame. Seven miles today (3 yesterday).
Saturday: Homeward bound, as our excellent tour manager put it. The entire group was in the coach eight minutes early, but we were like that. Dot and I were frequently last or almost last, but we were never late. After a bit of a wait at Figueres station,we were on board and ready for the off, which was at 10.20, after the Barcelona connection arrived. Various comments gave me the idea for a poem, so it was time well spent. Straightforward journey to Paris, though the buffet inexplicably had no milk. It was raining in Paris, so we got a bit wet transferring to coach and back to rail again. While we were alighting from the coach, someone attempted to steal our tour manager’s bag, but he was spotted and pursued by said TM, who was able to retrieve it. Happily, because it contained all his documents, including our Eurostar tickets. Quite a long time to wait for Eurostar, but we spent it convivially, buying wine with our last euros and chatting to Angela and Gordon. On time at St Pancras, thanks and well-earned tip to TM, and the rest you know.
