Bells are not the Only Clangers!

The week I started on the 'first shift', i.e. I had already been given a job for that morning.  However, it began with an 8.30 pick-up locally, so I was able to join my friends at church for breakfast first.  These two jobs took me to Langley, near Slough, and up to Henley-on-Thames, where I had fun getting into not one but two narrow drives, each of which proved to be the wrong entrance to my target, which I eventually found to be accessible from another street (Thank you, SatNav - see the repetition of this phenomenon below).

With no other activity on Monday, I was able to go ringing in the evening - something that is becoming an uneconomic, but enjoyable habit - where we practised Oxford Bob Triples.  This is a method that has pleasant memories for me because, in 1983, I rang in a quarter peal of it in honour of my father; it took place on the very day when, had he still been alive, his age would have been double my own.

Lodge House, Gisburn Park

After a barren afternoon on Monday, I prayed for a good job on Tuesday and, step by step, my prayer was answered.  At about 9.15, the controller rang to say that, at 10.0 there would be a job ready for collection in Stevenage for Bradford.  As I was just leaving home, another call came to ask if I were about to leave; the reply to my affirmative was to ask me to make a call in Letchworth on the way 'for something in the Blackburn area'.  This turned out to be a private hospital in Gisburn, only 31 miles over the hills from Bradford.  The weather was good, and the journey delightful.  When I got there I found that the hospital is in a large park, the entrance to which is guarded by a pair of lodge houses, "of beautiful Gothic architecture, richly ornamented with figures and pinnacles carved with the greatest taste from designs of a former Lord Ribblesdale." (description and picture from the excellent village website.)

Wednesday was something of a replay on a smaller scale, with deliveries in Leicester and Peterborough, and in some ways Thursday was the best day of the working week, reminding me that, though essential to its smooth running, money isn't the only important part of life.  Owing to a misunderstanding, my name wasn't added to the list when I got back at about 4.30 on Wednesday afternoon.  I was asked if I were available for anything else ... although there was nothing at present. Perhaps my rather cavalier reply was somewhat foolish as it turned out, "If anything comes in, try me."  The next morning, the phone was dead, until I called in at lunchtime to see how the land lay.  I was reassured that I hadn't 'fallen off the radar', but a couple of hours later the boss called to see whether I was working or not.  When I told him I'd been available all day, he was aghast, and not only sent me on a job right then to Colnbrook, but also asked me to collect something on the way to deliver the following morning in Thetford.  

Meanwhile I had made intense, if inconclusive, progress trying to distinguish the offspring of the two marriages of a certain great-great-great uncle, as the result of which another early visit is indicated to the record office when a Saturday morning offers itself.

Friday, therefore, began early and my delivery in Thetford was complemented by a freshly-cooked breakfast at the cafe on the industrial estate.  From this, I ran on to a local delivery in Sandy, and then back to East Anglia again for  a collection at Great Blakenham, just outside Ipswich.  I was home again - via the garage to sort out a blocked valve - by about 3.0 pm, and the weekend got off to a good start.

Yesterday was the day when there is activity in both the FA Trophy and the FA Vase.  It saw the exit of my 'local favourites', Biggleswade Town, from one competition and of my 'native team', Diss Town, from the other.  I missed both possibilities, for it was the ringers' annual autumn outing.  We rang at four churches in eastern Hertfordshire, ending at a fifth tower that was just over the border in Essex.  This latter proved somewhat elusive, since SatNav took us to the wrong side of a small hill, where we entered a private park thinking the church might be within the grounds.  It was fortunate that this was the last visit of the day, since quite some time was lost as we re-traced our steps to the road and thence to the right turning instead of the wrong.  This unusual level of activity, combined with a surfeit of fresh air, was quite tiring and I confess to indulging in an armchair snooze in the early evening.

Now, with the prospect of a few more showery days at the start of next week, I can wonder what work holds for me as I consider too which match to go and watch in the fourth qualifying round of the FA Cup next Saturday.