Tag Archives: walk

Idyllic walk out to the Bure and St Benet’s

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Sunset near South Walsham.
Sunset near South Walsham.

Strangely, the eye test turned out to be nearly as traumatic, though not as painful. Everything seemed OK, and the ophthalmologist said my eyes were healthy, but then he noticed  something at the top of my left eye, which he wondered about. He thought it could be a problem with the retina. On one hand he said it was probably nothing, and he was just being cautious, but on the other he said that if I got a shadow in my eye I should rush to A&E, in case my retina had become detached, which could blind me in that eye. Yippee.

I also needed two new pairs of glasses, in which I was assisted by a very nice girl called Becky, who was a trainee but very thorough and determined to get everything right. I eventually chose two new frames and ordered them. They will be ready next week. I also have a hospital appointment to look at my eye. This is on December 31, which may or may not be a good idea, but the next option was well into January. Needless to say I have had funny feelings in my eye since then, but I’m sure they’re just psychosomatic.

Back at the dentist, this morning’s session was even worse than the first one, and when Allison asked me when I wanted to come back, I said: “Never.” The procedure was pretty painful, and the idea of using three different toothbrushes to clean my teeth is pretty unrealistic. The hygienist is a fanatic: I think I shall go back to Ross for the check-up in three months’ time. Or four. Or five. Or eighteen.

The next day (Wednesday) I had my hair cut, which was totally painless.

Thursday was Dot’s day in London with Anne, and they had a great time, particularly the afternoon tea at the Bloomsbury Hotel. I surprised myself by going for a walk, starting at South Walsham staithe and walking along the bank of the dyke out to the Bure, opposite St Benet’s Abbey. I got some really good pictures and in many ways it was idyllic: not too cold, very still and the light fading, with mist over the marshes. I didn’t pass anyone after I left the metalled road. The only problem was that the path was very muddy – I couldn’t make up my mind whether it was a result of the damp weather we’d been having (and are still having) or if the recent hight tides had overtopped the bank. Still wonderful, though.

On Saturday I went out to Mundesley for the second writing workshop, which was good again, and then met Dot at North Walsham rail station, taking her to Jessie’s, where we had a cup of tea before going to the Banningham Crown for an evening meal. This was another very good meal. I had a steak and ale pie, which was probably a mistake in terms of getting a decent night’s sleep, but it tasted good. Also there were Roger and his girlfriend Debbie, who is very easy to talk to. The service was again excellent.

Sunday turned out to be very sporty. Dot and I watched the Davis Cup final, in which Murray won the decisive match, accompanied by extremely noisy spectators, and then we watched the Norwich v Arsenal match on Sky, courtesy of NOW TV. Good game too. The result was 1-1, and City could easily have won. After supper, or possibly during it, we then watched the highlights of the final F1 race of the season.

Having the Bishop of Norwich for lunch

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Dot, David and Chrissy on the boundary at Beechwood while Oliver played cricket
Dot, David and Chrissy on the boundary at Beechwood while Oliver played cricket

With rain promised for the rest of the week, Dot and I felt we had to take advantage of today’s sunshine and warmth; so after lunch we headed for North-East Norfolk. Once clear of the tourist hub of Wroxham we headed for the hamlet of Briggate, where we parked adjacent to Weavers’ Way. From there we walked across fields to Worstead and back – a round trip of about four miles. Quite pleasant.

We are now home and preparing to have two friends from church round for a meal as part of our “have two friends from church for a meal” project. Well, not exactly, but the church as a whole is trying to get to know each other better, though I suspect our congregation already knows each other better than most church congregations.

Yesterday we had the Bishop of Norwich for lunch. I suppose that could have been better phrased, but I sort of like it. It was basically a joint service at St Luke’s, at which Dot and I assisted with the music (Phil was a late withdrawal). Six hymns (three completely new to us) with Steve on lead guitar and Angela on keyboards. Also Dot and I (with help from Steve) did a couple of my songs during communion.

The Bishop did an excellent sermon and was even better on answering questions afterwards. We had a bring-and-share lunch that was more than adequate, and then those who were left (the Bishop having departed with Nicholas) had a shot at an exercise designed to reveal who was interested in doing what after Nicholas left for America. I suspect that “reveal”is not quite the word.

Working backwards, on Saturday we celebrated Anne’s birthday belatedly with an excellent meal at the King’s Head in Brooke. I had fishcake with egg, duck breast and a lovely dessert consisting of Malibu brûlée and mango sorbet. Very moreish.

Julia and Allan came for an evening meal with us on Friday. Dot did her latest lamb dish, which is delicious, and we had a made-up starter involving those little salmon thingies, grapes and toast, with strawberries dipped in chocolate to finish. Then we imposed our holiday pictures on them, but they didn’t seem to mind too much.  Earlier in the day I had been rushing up to the bank in Magdalen Street to find out why a church cheque had bounced (they had neglected to amalgamate our two accounts as promised) before heading to the market to buy the strawberries.

Which brings us logically to last Thursday. In the morning I went by bus to the Norfolk and Norwich Hospital for a chest x-ray, which must have taken all of 15 minutes maximum (including waiting time), and in the evening we attended the Assembly House for a piano concert by Evelyne Berezovsky as part of the Norfolk and Norwich Festival. She was hot, and so was the Music Room. I had to rip off my jumper during a break between pieces, and other customers were also wilting.

Still, it is always worth visiting the Assembly House, because the toilets are first-class. When I say Evelyne Berezovsky was hot, I mean of course that she was a stunningly good pianist. I hope that’s clear.

Money, money, walking

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At last everything seems in order for our holiday in Florida. This morning I had to fill in an application for all five of us for a visa waiver. Needless to say, this went wrong in the middle and I had to get back in to complete it, but with help from David it all worked out. I also checked the seat reservations, and they are all OK – even the American Airlines ones.

Looking up the river towards Foundry Bridge, it seems more like late winter than early spring.
Looking up the river towards Foundry Bridge yesterday, it seems more like late winter than early spring.

I’ve spent quite a long time at my desk this week, working mainly on church-related stuff. I’ve written a sermon and chosen some hymns, but mainly I’ve been working on money matters. At the PCC on Monday it was revealed that we had been left quite a large sum of money and given quite a lot more; nevertheless everyone was keen to go ahead with a Paying Our Way day when the Bishop visits at the end of May, which seems to me like flying in the face of the evidence. I eventually mentioned this to Howard, who sees what I mean. Ho hum. I decided not to speak to Nicholas about it, because I don’t want to deflate him!

Part of the church money business did involve some exercise, because I had to go to the bank in Magdalen Street to sign a form and show some identity, then on to the Vicarage in Aylsham Road to get Nicholas to sign come cheques. I then delivered three of the cheques – in Sussex Street, St Giles and King Street – as well as calling in at Howard’s in case he was there to received the new account material. But he wasn’t.

All this amounted to nearly five miles of  walking, and I have done quite a lot elsewhere too, so I’m on target for a record week. Of course I haven’t done any today yet…

We resumed our cinema visiting on Tuesday, seeing Labor Day, which wasn’t well reviewed but which we both enjoyed. In the evening we had a visit from Ed, who stayed for a chat and a cup of tea, and last night another former St Augustine’s friend, Heather Cracknell, called in after I caught her trying to find somewhere to park and lent her a permit. She was going to Prezzo’s with some colleagues, but afterwards she called in and had a drink and quite a long chat, which was nice. Rhianna is about Oliver’s age and like him is preparing for high school. Hard to believe.

Meanwhile I visited the dentist again yesterday and was reassured that the work he’d done last week was OK. He also gave me some antibiotics to take on holiday, just in case (after I asked for them). So that’s reassuring. In the evening I recorded five songs in case Phil wants to do them for the Seagull next time, whenever that is. I’ve also written a few poems, so that can’t be bad.

Vagueness about place

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Dot near Cockshoot Broad
Dot near Cockshoot Broad

After writing the last post, we were invited round to number 18 for a cup of tea, which turned out to be much more: sandwiches, cakes and so on. An afternoon tea that Phil would have been proud of, apparently. I’m sure she would. Phyll too. Had a very pleasant time talking to a number of people – especially the wife of the RC deacon who had led the service.

We were about to lose our record of going to the cinema every week this year when we decided to go for a walk at the end of Saturday afternoon – and during the walk decided to go to the cinema to see The Grand Budapest Hotel. Discovered at the end that it was from stories by Stefan Zweig, and it certainly had a mid-European feel to it – a vagueness about place but a fascination with unusual sequences of events. Ralph Fiennes was very funny, as was the bellboy, whose name escapes me. The hotel was  funny too.

On Sunday we had Communion followed by a talk by Robert Fruewirth on Lady Julian and person-centred counselling. I spent most of it trying to work out what non-person-centred counselling would be like. I do have an antipathy to counselling generally, suspecting it’s often a kind of addiction indulged in by people who should just get a grip, but are too fascinated by themselves to step outside. He didn’t say anything very interesting, which is a pity, because Julian most definitely did.

Later Dot and I went for a walk at Woodbastwick in weather rather redolent of the previous Sunday, if marginally cooler. Cockshoot Broad is as tranquil as ever, but the dyke seems to have lost its water lilies. Or maybe it’s the wrong time of year. Is there a wrong time of year for water lilies? Bright sunshine, though, and restful.

Yesterday I went to the dentist and got more or less a clean bill of health, though he identified a little hole that he would like to have a go at with a laser. In a weak moment, I said yes. It’s happening next Wednesday. Not sure it’s totally necessary, but apparently it bled a lot. Meanwhile the rest of my body is up and down: last night I felt extremely odd in the middle of the night, but much better as soon as I got out of bed. Still have a funny head  (oh yes) and a tight abdomen.

In the afternoon I went out to Mundesley for a meeting of the PHS trustees, arriving a little early. Not a bad meeting in the sun room, but with the door open. Have just finished the minutes, but it sounds very much as if we are going to get involved with another huge project. I may flee the country.

Meanwhile I have written a song called Farewell to Philomena, based loosely on our dear departed neighbour, but with some other elements of southern Ireland. Quite pleased with it, though Dot has doubts about the tune. She has a pain in her groin too (I don’t think it’s the tune), but has been spending the afternoon at Peterhouse School with her colleague Juliet (wife of Tom Corbett, ibid).

New talk, walk, baby

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Dot, Julia and Dave getting properly shod in Trowse for our walk to Whitlingham
Dot, Julia and Dave getting properly shod in Trowse for our walk to Whitlingham

A very full week, starting last Tuesday with another visit to the Norfolk Record Office to hear the latest talk, The Fall of the House of Paston: a fine title and a brilliant lecture to a standing-room-only audience. I bought the book by the speaker (Jean Agnew) and walked home with Rob Knee.

Dave and Julia arrived around lunchtime the next day, and in the afternoon we took them to the Masterpieces exhibition, where Dot and I saw the bits we missed at the weekend, including the Rennie Mackintosh pictures and the Lotus F1 car in the restaurant. We got the X25 bus home (express route via Newmarket Road), and Dot cooked a brace of rather nice pheasant in the evening.

Our compulsory walk the following day was in two parts, because the cafe at Whitlingham Broad was helpfully closed. So after walking there from Trowse via Whitlingham Hall we walked back to Trowse along the road and had garlic bread and tea in the River Garden Cafe.  We then drove back to the closed cafe and walked round the Broad, pausing only to shelter from a shower.

Later we walked up to the city to look at the Christmas stalls and witness the Christmas lights turn-on, all of which was OK, but not as spectacular as one might have expected. We returned home and had supper at Prezzo – as usual a very good meal with excellent service. Free bottle of Prosecco for the birthday girl. According to my app, I had walked a record 8.6 miles that day.

The peripatetic Evetts set off for Salisbury at about 11 on Friday, which was Dot’s actual birthday. I gave her a new violin case, a book and tickets for the ballet next February! Well, you have to book in advance. In the evening, although Dot was feeling a little under the weather, we drove to Metfield for a performance of the Fitzrovia Radio Hour, which I have to say was brilliant: a supposed radio performance in which we were the studio audience. The sound effects were the highlight, but the actors were brilliant in every respect. If you get the chance, go for it.

On Saturday yet another highlight: we drove to Caddington, arriving at almost the precise time that Elliott James Lenton was born in Southampton. Blissfully ignorant of this, we had a great time with the Coomes family – adults in the kitchen and children all on gadgets in the living room, playing a joint game, I believe. Excellent buffet food from David. After the Coomes left I got involved in a football game on the landing with Oliver, David and Amy (in goal), from which I miraculously emerged with no broken bones. Reminded me of The Christian, only more violent.

Also played a game of Mastermind with the children, in which you have to work out the position of four coloured pegs in a row. Oliver is very good at this, but I did manage to work one sequence out. I believe we played a version of this when David was young, or even earlier. Also played chess with Oliver. Like his father, he has the potential.

Meanwhile Magnus Carlsen was winning the world championship in India by defeating Viswanathan Anand without losing a game. Quite a feat.

We left quite late and as a result had a clear run home. The next day Dot was shattered and had mouth ulcers, so stayed in bed while I went to Communion. We spent most of the rest of the day watching television, which is never good. The weather has been cold, with quite a lot of rain.

Walking in the snow and rain

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My trousers after I got back from Jan’s memorial service: splashed by a bus on Rose Lane

Winter has returned, albeit a bit later than forecast. A fair bit of snow on the ground last night, which deterred Sam from completing his journey from Birmingham, where he had been attending a Christian Writers’ Conference with Joe and Birgit. He made it as far back as Joe’s and wisely decided to stay the night there.

Earlier in the day I had walked up to Holy Trinity through a mixture of snow and rain to attend Jan Miller’s memorial service: quite an inspiring one – very well organised in a Holy Trinity sort of way. Hardly anyone there I knew, so I didn’t stay for refreshments. Even harder snow and rain on the way back, but all good for my walking programme. Today is the first day I haven’t done at least half an hour for a couple of weeks. That’s because it’s still very cold, with a mixture of snow and rain falling, though the snow that laid last night has largely vanished; so I imagine Sam will eventually make it.

He is visiting his parents, as he had been signed off work for a couple of weeks. On Thursday I took them to the doctors and left them there for about 90 minutes before being recalled to fetch them. I have to say neither of them looked particularly well.

The day before, I had another of my longer walks, dropping off some cash at Ian’s before heading into town for a cafe conversation on translation at the White Lion Cafe. Happily Adrian was there again, and the session was good too, by Dr B J Epstein of the UEA. Some interesting ideas, and practical too. I think it was aimed mainly at people considering doing translation, but that’s not really in my mind. Still it inspired an article and a poem for my website.

I’m also reading the latest biography of Leonard Cohen (I’m Your Man), which is beautifully written and easy to read, as well as revealing some unexpected details about him, such as the huge amount of drugs he took. A combination of that and the translation session inspired me to want to write more poems, though not to take more drugs.

Incompetence behind the lines

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Oliver reaches a summit in Lion Wood

House feels very empty today. Dot is out working under her free governor’s hat, I haven’t done much except put a BBC producer in touch with a St Peter Hungate trustee, and David and the children are back home (or in two cases, at school). They arrived here on Thursday, and we had a relaxing three days, because it was too cold to do anything much outdoors. Nevertheless Oliver and I did manage a lovely 2½-mile walk up through the cemetery and Lion Wood, while Dot and Amy went shopping and David ventured into the city.

We also fitted in a very nice lunch at Prezzos on the Saturday, before listening to Norwich beat Everton 2-1 with a goal in the last seconds. Amy and Dot made a cake, and several games were played. Oliver is progressing well with his chess. He took away my old iMac: not sure his father was overjoyed by this idea, because it’s quite big, but Oliver seemed happy enough, though Amy wanted half of it to go with the new clothes Nana had bought her. Both children still delightful and growing up quickly: both enjoy writing and are creative as well as lovely. After a bit of uncertainty, they left at around 7pm on the Saturday and had a straightforward journey home.

Sunday featured the first of our projected post-service talks, and it was an impressive start. Louise Øhrstrøm spoke on St Julian, who she has translated into Danish, and there must have been about 60 people there, about a third of whom attended the Communion beforehand. Nicholas was in his impresario mood, which I have to say he does very well. Louise’s talk was very good, despite being quite difficult to listen to because foreigners, however good their English, always have a different intonation and flow. Good response generally.

Earlier in the week, on Wednesday, we had an evening meal with the Higbees at Newton Flotman after having difficulty getting out of Norwich because of road works on King Street, creating traffic jams. Not feeling at my best ( I was a bit below par all week), but an enjoyable time as always.

Have finished Into the Silence, a book by Wade Davis on the attempts on Everest in the 1920s. Fascinating stuff and very thorough research. I learnt a lot about Tibet and the huge organisation that seemed to be required to even get near the mountain. The book casts doubt on several reputations, and makes others. The early section on the Great War left me extremely angry at the arrogant  incompetence of the generals, especially Haig, but there was plenty of incompetence during the Everest expedition, not least from the people organising it safely at home (as Haig was safely behind the lines).

Having read the book, I doubt that Mallory and irvine reached the summit, though it’s not totally impossible. Amazing that Reinhold Messner (my favourite mountaineer) did the whole thing on his own without oxygen in 1980.

Walking in uncharted territory

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A less than brilliant picture of Dot and Kristine crossing London Bridge in late afternoon

Surprisingly, I finished Amy’s story shortly after my last post: it all came to me in a flash, just before Tuesday Group. I posted it off the next day, together with the last Little story in booklet form. I’ve also managed to write nearly two poems for Ian Fosten, so things are looking up. However, I’ve not been feeling good for a while: intermittent bursts of feeling quite peculiar, involving head and stomach and chills. Have managed to keep going with paracetamol, and much of the time I’m OK. But it keeps coming back. Not for long, I hope.

Happily Dot’s dizziness has gone. We suspect that the doctor got rid of it when she did the famous manoeuvre early last week. When Dot returned on Friday, she did it again and found that the revealing eye-fluttering had gone and she was OK – just in time for a full weekend, that started with a meal at the Robinsons in their shiny new reconstructed house.

I see I have got all out of order here. Back to Wednesday, when we had our hair done and I went to the dentist for a filling, then headed straight to Jessie’s with Dot. Last of the mince pies – or so I thought. The following day we depended on the weather forecast and were rewarded. Despite a heavy grey sky and some rain we drove to Bodham, where we had a drink at the Red Hart before heading off across the fields to Baconsthorpe Castle on one of the Coast Partnership’s trial walks. The sky quickly cleared and became bright blue, which compensated for the chill in the air.

At the castle we managed to go wrong –  mainly because we’d been there before and didn’t read the directions very carefully. We reached the village by the wrong path and headed into uncharted territory – uncharted by us or the Coast Partnership, that is. We couldn’t make sense of the instructions, but relied on our sense of direction and found an alternative footpath that took us back to the castle, where it became apparent what had happened. Now on the right track, we proceeded wearily back to Bodham – 5-6 miles in all.

We spent the weekend with David and Kristine, arriving just before noon at Leyton after a smooth journey. Kristine produced a delicious Spanish crumble with chorizo sausages that would probably have been enough for the rest of the day; however, we went to Baharat Indian restaurant in the evening and had another large meal. In between, we took the tube to Bank, discovered the Northern Line was shut and spent some time walking in Bank station before we could find the way out on to the street. (Several other people were having the same problem – signs were hopeless.) Eventually we made it out and walked past Monument and across London Bridge before visiting a bookstore near David’s office.

Lovely area of London that we hadn’t visited before. We proceeded on to Tower Bridge and had tea/coffee in a busy place much frequented by David before heading for home by crossing Tower Bridge and catching the tube outside the Tower of London. Lovely day, and a beautiful, busy evening. Didn’t sleep all that well, however.

The next day we drove up to Spellbrook Three Horseshoes and experienced the slowest service anywhere in the world (possibly). Arriving just before 1pm, we met Phil, Jane, Lydia and Alistair, and then David, who had driven up from Caddington. It reached 2.30pm before our main course was served. We abandoned the potential dessert and drove to Phil Coomes’ house for Christmas cake and mince pie.

Today was Frank Mason’s funeral, and David had another long drive to arrive in good time to get to St Faith’s Crematorium with us. Nice service: afterwards most of the attendees joined Jessie and Roger at Elm Tree Farm for refreshments. Teresa was there, as were all the usual suspects. Afterwards we drove David back to ours for his return journey before joining Jessie and Liz at Roger’s for a chat and the odd drink. Later Liz left for another appointment (her daughter’s birthday celebration, I think), and the four of us ended up at Oaklands Hotel for a carvery. That wasn’t our intention, but the “proper” restaurant opened an hour later than its website promised. Nice rhubarb crumble to finish. Pretty tired now.

I don’t really have time for this

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Dot pauses by Shrieking Pits on the way to Hungry Hill, between Northrepps and Overtsrand

The old joke is that this doesn’t seem like a new year – it seems like one we’ve used before. But of course it is new, and everything in it is new, which I suppose is reassuring. Today is bright and still after severe storms, and I’ve just returned from the doctor, who told me my blood test results were A1 and my PSA level below 0.1, though I do have slightly high blood pressure. Well, who doesn’t?

Poor old Julia is in much worse condition, having broken and dislocated her ankle in a restaurant fall in Lapland before breakfast on New Year’s Eve. Very painful, and hard for everyone, with clinic visit, ankle manipulation and making sure she was fit enough to travel home the next day. She had an operation in hospital at Nottingham and will be in plaster for six weeks; it will be a year before she’s fully recovered. The word “fully” is flexible, since it covers a plate and screws in her ankle. We were due to be walking together in Derbyshire at the end of this month: that clearly won’t happen; we’ll have to wait and see whether we meet there or not. I suspect not.

Reverting to much more trivial matters, Dot and I used the Robinsons’ tickets to go to Carrow Road on New Year’s Eve and saw Norwich score in the last minute to draw 1-1 with Fulham. Not the best game ever, but much excitement at the death! Happily the weather was relatively mild at the time, but it’s been much colder and wilder since.

After Communion the next day we went out to see Jessie, who invited us to stay for high tea. This worked well, since we had been cancelled the second night in succession, with Anna suffering from migraine. Would have been awkward if we’d been committed to the Greens’ and offered tea by Jessie as well, with the table already set! Roger and his girlfriend Liz arrived later in the afternoon (we’d got there before 3pm) and we had a very pleasant time – Liz is in PR and publishing, and so we had much in common.

Our third evening booking in succession did survive: we met Heather, Simon and Sam in the Plough on St Benedict’s on Monday and later moved to the Clipper Indian restaurant for an excellent meal. Had a great time with them, as always.

Dot and I have decided to book ourselves a day a week together, and the first occurred on Wednesday, when we started off in Aylsham, looking at some vinyl flooring which may have been superseded by John Lewis (we’ll see), had lunch at the Old Tea Rooms in the town and then drove to Overstrand, where we tackled one of the walks the Coast Partnership had sent me for checking. It turned out to be one we’d done some years ago, but it was very enjoyable despite the cold weather: about four miles inland and then back to the coast. To complete a very full day, I went to a long meeting of the Paston trustees in the evening and was so late back that Dot had begun to worry about my safety – by this time the winds were very strong, and they continued strong through yesterday, which included the John Lewis visit.

In the midst of all this busyness – I still have to write a sermon, choose some hymns, turn my latest Little story into a book and write a new story for Amy, among other things – I have managed to write a poem. Unfortunately, it is not one of the five poems I have to write in response to pictures Ian sent me. I don’t really have time to write this blog. Oh dear, too late not to.

Dazzling expertise in brilliant play

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Dave, Julia and Dot exit the Bridge Inn at Acle to continue the last part of our walk.

The Paston week at Dragon Hall came to a very misty end on Sunday. I had to preach at St Luke’s in the morning, and that went very well: I don’t think I’ve ever had so many appreciative comments. I spoke on the parable of the talents and gave a very different view from the normal one – that it was really about the behaviour of very rich people, a talent being worth probably well over £100,000. The final servant came out as being the hero.

I got to Dragon Hall just in time to lead the 1pm walk, which had the biggest number of the four in attendance: we started with seven, but dropped three (mother and two children) at the top of Mountergate while the father continued with us. In contrast to Saturday, I then had a woman who was very knowledgeable about the history of Norwich, but thankfully I avoided any drastic mistakes. We weren’t able to get into St Andrew’s Hall again – and sadly not St Peter Hungate either, because my phone for some reason decided to drop O2 and I couldn’t ring the woman who was supposed to let us in. However, that was the only glitsch, and David helped me restore the phone in the evening.

The next day we had our hair cut early, and I popped over to Dragon Hall to see if I could help with the get-out, but the Berrys and Diana were almost finished by the time I got there.

Julia and Dave arrived at lunchtime, and after some food we went for a riverside walk to look at the new bridge – which sadly wasn’t yet open. However, we walked up to Fye Bridge and then back down the other bank. In the evening we saw How the Other Half Loves by Alan Ayckbourn at the Maddermarket, and it was brilliantly done. The actors were superb and the direction spot-on. Since there were two different things happening on stage constantly, it all had to be timed to perfection, and it was. It’s no exaggeration to say the expertise was dazzling.

Tuesday was Dot’s birthday, and so we spent most of it shopping – at least she and Julia did, after an initial joint swathe through M&S. Then we had a light lunch (scone), and Dave and I departed for the Castle Museum, where we saw (among other things) an excellent exhibition on the family as portrayed in art. Anne joined us for an evening celebration meal at the Last Wine Bar, which was pretty good.

The weather brightened up yesterday for our walk. We started at Acle and walked across the fields to Upton, then back through the marshes and along the river bank to the Bridge Inn, which is apparently owned by Marco Pierre White. We had a very light bar lunch, but the service was impressive. We then walked a bit further along the river and then cut back into Acle and to the car – the car in this case being Dave’s because at the outset my car had failed to start. As I write, I am awaiting the Mazda Europe Assistance man to diagnose and hopefully fix the fault.

In the evening we went to Prezzos, then watched Frozen Planet, during which Julia and I took it in turns to fall asleep. Dave and Julia left after breakfast this morning.