Sliced and diced

My few hobbies include bell ringing, where many of the tunes ('methods' we call them) are named after places.  One of the earliest methods encountered by a novice ringer is Cambridge, being one of a number that are rung on six bells and as a group are called Surprise Minor.  A few years ago, with this safely under my belt, I was invited to ring Primrose ... a method of which I'd never heard, although I quickly realised that it was a re-arrangement of the five blocks which make up Cambridge, simple arranged into a different order.  A few weeks later the invitation was Ipswich, and after studying this I found that it consisted of the same blocks as Cambridge and Primrose, but this time each block had been split in half, making ten smaller chunks of the Cambridge method, stitched together, as it were, in an unfamiliar sequence.

Why am I baffling my readers with all this technical guff?  Quite simply, because the term I coined then to describe Ipswich Surprise Minor was 'Cambridge, not sliced but diced!' and that's how this week has seemed to me.  It began on Sunday, when I was staying at my cousin's to take part in the celebrations for her husband's 70th birthday.  As always, when I'm there for a weekend, I went along to St Mary's church in the town, to join in worship with a growing number of friends there.  I stood in the hall after the service, clutching my coffee and wondering if there was a face that I recognised.  All of a sudden I was seized from behind, and steered gently to a table to join three folks who confessed that they were anxious to know who I was - had I just moved into the town, and so on.  I explained that I was only there for the weekend, as I had been on a number of occasions, and that I also write articles for their parish magazine (which appear in the companion blog to this one)

So by the time I returned home, I felt pleased that I had gained some new friends.  After the regular early breakfast on Monday, enjoying the company of a cluster of well-established friends, my attack on the working week was different from normal.  I had arranged for my van to have its annual MOT test, and since it was booked in for 12.0, I was reluctant to ask for a job before this, knowing the great propensity for jobs to be finished by a certain time to overrun.  I took the van around to the garage mid-morning so there would be a chance to get any minor work done in advance of the actual test.  Meanwhile, I completed my January accounts, submitted my VAT Return, and tidied up a number of other items on my desk.  I also rang my GP about an annoying condition that has bugged me for a while now, but had drifted into that category of things that I'd get around to 'one day'.  One day, I decided, had come!

After recovering the van, I rang in for work, and was sent to Stevenage to collect something for Stamford, the town of spires in Lincolnshire that formed a wonderful backdrop for a TV presentation of Middlemarch a few years ago.  I had only got a little farther than Letchworth when a call offered me a run to Motherwell instead.  When I said yes, I was asked to go to the office to pass the Stamford job to someone else. Meanwhile, I was told, the package for Motherwell was being collected for me, and I could receive this from another driver at Stevenage shortly.  While I waited there I was told of a small item to be collected near Bedford to be delivered in West Bromwich on the way.  I was really pleased at this, because so often a job to Scotland goes alone.  I made the midland destination by 6.30, and headed north, along the M6 that I absolutely detest, breaking the journey for a snack at Hilton Park services.  By the time I'd delivered at Motherwell it was 1.0 am, and I'd all but exhausted my selection of podcasts.  I followed the pattern of a few weeks ago when I'd delivered in Livingston, and aimed for Carlisle.  Here I settled into the car park at the truckstop and had a few hours refreshing sleep before going inside for breakfast about 7.0; after that there was little else to note of the journey, and I was back to the office about 2.30pm.

The day finished with a run to St Albans hospital, and a collection in Letchworth for delivery at 8.0 in Cambridge the next morning.  I was already confused - was it Tuesday, or Wednesday?  I'd just got home the following morning after that Cambridge delivery when I was sent straight off to Stevenage to collect the first of two jobs for Leicester, which took me until well into the afternoon.  This would have satisfied me, but the day wasn't yet over.  There was time for a short run to St Neots.  The following morning I had purposely kept clear in order to visit the surgery, where the ever-busy GP spent a regimented ten minutes dealing with my problem.  Armed with a whole bag of goodies from the pharmacy next door, I sped home and had time to change the bed and fill the washing machine before setting off on a job to Basildon.  I had also taken some of the tablets I'd brought home, giving no thought for the instruction that they were to be taken with food.  Consequently, I felt very tired, and the return from Basildon took a good two and a half hours!

Notwithstanding this, I was sent over to Sandy to collect a van load of small items for delivery in Haverhill early this morning, and while there I decided to get a few items of shopping from the Co-op on my way home.  On my return, I set the washing machine going - usually a Friday evening job, as is the shopping.  This morning, once I'd returned from Haverhill, I started the day anew, sitting  with my breakfast in front of the computer, and then got all the ironing done before wondering where the next job would send me.  Just as I was thinking about lunch, I was sent to collect the first of two jobs, one to Milton Keynes, and the other to Rugby.

I'm now situated at a pinnacle of comfort, at the start of the weekend but with all the regular weekend jobs done already - shopping, washing, ironing all crossed off the list.  I can look forward to a well-earned lay-in tomorrow, followed by a gentle run down to Hillingdon for the family history meeting.  And the sunshine this afternoon reminded me that after the MOT, the need was highlighted for a new windscreen, so that is tentatively booked for next week.  Life is looking good, settled and calm.  What other demands could there be on my time?

Oh, by the way, I've never managed to ring Ipswich Surprise Minor!