I decided that, with no other plans for this non-working week, it would be a good opportunity to clean the flat. I've developed a great aversion to house- work over the years (never trained right as a lad, in my adult opinion); so long as everything is in its place, I'm inclined to leave the hoover in its place too. In fact after seeing my then dwelling for the first time some years ago, one lady commented, "It's dirty ... but tidily dirty!" But after some while, there were a lot of things not in their places ... especially things for which the proper place is the recycling bin, like five-year old catalogues, and even older railway timetables. It was time for action!
As a tempter, I resolved to clean one room per day, which more or less worked out, and the job is now done. I can hear sympathetic readers (the others have probably closed this bulletin already in disgust) saying, "There, that wasn't so bad, was it? Now try and keep it up from now on." And you're quite right, of course; I can only say I'll do my best.
Alongside this feverish unaccustomed domestic activity, I also started out taking a walk each afternoon, but this was thwarted on day three when the rain told me, "go home - there's no point getting wet just for the sake of it!"
There was also much feverish activity on the admin front, as I sought to make important and long-term decisions about funding my retirement when it is finally phased in ... all this being prompted by setting up a realistic budget for next year. After an extended evening's work constructing a spreadsheet, I went to bed exhausted, only to wake up a couple of hours later convinced that the whole effort was wasted because of a flaw in the thinking behind it: a flaw so basic as forgetting that, although sharing a pasture, tax years and calendar years are not the same beast. The next day found me doing exactly the same exercise ... but properly, this time!
During last week I discovered that my printer wasn't working as it should, and as I explored possible reasons, it occurred to me that a lack of bespoke ink might be the difficulty, so I placed an order. Meanwhile, as I dabbled further with the problem, I hit on the true remedy, and fixed it. Hence the order for ink dropped off the radar, and the other afternoon a delivery driver (not from my company, thank goodness!) tried to deliver the parcel, only to find me in the bath! No embarrassment was involved, I'm pleased to report; once dressed, I happily collected the card he'd put through the door, and drove across the town to collect the ink, which is now stored ready for use in due course.
The weekend promises to be a busy one, too. Tomorrow I'm planning to visit my native Norfolk, to watch an FA Vase tie, and on Sunday our church is holding its annual pets service, so anything could happen there! Sobriety returns in the afternoon, when there is a bereavement service for those who have lost loved ones during the past year, and a little later, at the other side of the town, the bellringers will gather for this year's final attempt to ring a quarter peal (1,260 changes, taking about three-quarters of an hour's intense concentration).
Friday 30 October 2015
Saturday 24 October 2015
The Silly Season
There is a saying in the world of newspapers that summer is the 'Silly Season', because there is frequently nothing sufficiently important to capture the headlines of all the papers, and each tends to pick out something different from the mix to lead on. It may not be summer any longer, but that's the shape of the week just ending: lots of snippets, but no lead story.
Snippet number one finds me on Sunday evening, parked on a pavement in the centre of the town, assisting in the unloading of a two-seater settee to one of the early Garden City houses. The father of the occupant had secured this item on freecycle [What a boon this is to so many people in search of both the mundane and the esoteric!], and had solicited my help in collecting and transporting it to its new home.
On Monday, after a couple of deliveries in Kent, I was given a choice of two possibilities in the late afternoon. One was two drinks orders to Suffolk and Essex; the other was a medical item to be taken to a private address in Milton Keynes. I chose the latter on the basis that I ought then to be back in time for ringing practice in the evening, where I had been told there would be several regulars who would be absent this week. I returned home at 7.20, grabbed a sandwich, and was on parade as usual at 7.45. I discovered that not only were most of the supposed absentees present, but also a number of others, too. After two abortive attempts to concentrate, I decided that my time would be better spent at my desk after all, and so came home again.
Tuesday's success was to drive around Suffolk and Essex enjoying the rich autumnal colours by the roadside, while Wednesday required me to cross the Dartford Bridge for a second time in the week in order to take a parcel to a restaurant near Sevenoaks. I was spotted going around the M25, and given another collection near Hastings for delivery in Stratford, E15. I stopped at a service station on the way back, where I discovered that refurbishment had necessitated temporary toilet facilities in the corner of the car park. After marvelling at the immaculate tiling on the walls and the shiny basin, I encountered other regular features such as the ubiquitous puddle beneath the urinals, and the fellow-user who rejects the opportunity to use the adjacent urinal in favour of standing in the cubicle without shutting the door ... augmented on this occasion by an outside door that wouldn't open properly, causing a painful collision of thigh and door frame in both directions of travel!
Thursday began uncomfortably early, with a 6.30 collection in Royston, going no further than Thetford, to be followed by two local jobs. The second of these was withdrawn (thankfully!) and replaced by another, more lucrative opportunity: an envelope to be taken from an office in Welwyn Garden City to another in a beautiful park location near Knutsford. On the way came another, more conventional, delivery of some plumbing equipment to Tamworth.
Wednesday, as many will be aware, was the 210th anniversary of the Battle of Trafalgar, where Norfolk's most famous admiral lost his life aboard HMS Victory. Like me, perhaps fewer could have said that yesterday was the centenary of another death, that of the 67-year-old William Gilbert Grace, who has been described as 'the King of Cricket'. It was appropriate that I made this discovery through listening to the lunchtime feature on the second day of the Pakistan test match, while driving to a delivery in South Cerney, in the county where WG was born and spent much of his life, Gloucestershire.
Next week is another in which I play the part of 'trainee retiree', and I have no significant plans, apart from a few minor chores that have accumulated under the heading of 'when time allows'. Is this what true retirement will really look like?
Snippet number one finds me on Sunday evening, parked on a pavement in the centre of the town, assisting in the unloading of a two-seater settee to one of the early Garden City houses. The father of the occupant had secured this item on freecycle [What a boon this is to so many people in search of both the mundane and the esoteric!], and had solicited my help in collecting and transporting it to its new home.
On Monday, after a couple of deliveries in Kent, I was given a choice of two possibilities in the late afternoon. One was two drinks orders to Suffolk and Essex; the other was a medical item to be taken to a private address in Milton Keynes. I chose the latter on the basis that I ought then to be back in time for ringing practice in the evening, where I had been told there would be several regulars who would be absent this week. I returned home at 7.20, grabbed a sandwich, and was on parade as usual at 7.45. I discovered that not only were most of the supposed absentees present, but also a number of others, too. After two abortive attempts to concentrate, I decided that my time would be better spent at my desk after all, and so came home again.
Tuesday's success was to drive around Suffolk and Essex enjoying the rich autumnal colours by the roadside, while Wednesday required me to cross the Dartford Bridge for a second time in the week in order to take a parcel to a restaurant near Sevenoaks. I was spotted going around the M25, and given another collection near Hastings for delivery in Stratford, E15. I stopped at a service station on the way back, where I discovered that refurbishment had necessitated temporary toilet facilities in the corner of the car park. After marvelling at the immaculate tiling on the walls and the shiny basin, I encountered other regular features such as the ubiquitous puddle beneath the urinals, and the fellow-user who rejects the opportunity to use the adjacent urinal in favour of standing in the cubicle without shutting the door ... augmented on this occasion by an outside door that wouldn't open properly, causing a painful collision of thigh and door frame in both directions of travel!
Thursday began uncomfortably early, with a 6.30 collection in Royston, going no further than Thetford, to be followed by two local jobs. The second of these was withdrawn (thankfully!) and replaced by another, more lucrative opportunity: an envelope to be taken from an office in Welwyn Garden City to another in a beautiful park location near Knutsford. On the way came another, more conventional, delivery of some plumbing equipment to Tamworth.
Wednesday, as many will be aware, was the 210th anniversary of the Battle of Trafalgar, where Norfolk's most famous admiral lost his life aboard HMS Victory. Like me, perhaps fewer could have said that yesterday was the centenary of another death, that of the 67-year-old William Gilbert Grace, who has been described as 'the King of Cricket'. It was appropriate that I made this discovery through listening to the lunchtime feature on the second day of the Pakistan test match, while driving to a delivery in South Cerney, in the county where WG was born and spent much of his life, Gloucestershire.
Next week is another in which I play the part of 'trainee retiree', and I have no significant plans, apart from a few minor chores that have accumulated under the heading of 'when time allows'. Is this what true retirement will really look like?
Saturday 17 October 2015
Muddle and Get Nowhere
In my native Norfolk in 1893, a number of small railway companies that over the previous fifteen years, under a variety of names, had linked communities in equally varying combinations, were amalgamated to form the Midland and Great Northern Joint Railway Company. This was operated jointly by the Midland Railway and the Great Northern Railway; it was universally known as M&GN, and affectionately as 'Muddle and Get Nowhere'. Although having no connection whatsoever with railways, this week for me fits that title admirably. It's been quite enjoyable in parts, I have to admit, but not greatly productive.
As an example, at the start of the week, I presented my new insurance certificate, which was copied and submitted to the driver admin people. On Thursday an e-mail was received, pointing out that the word 'Courier' didn't appear on it, so could I provide other evidence confirming that this was indeed the intended meaning of '... and the policyholder's business'.
On Tuesday morning, I was supposed to collect one tyre from a local company at 8.30 to be taken to Kent. I was given another job - 'available at 9.30, but perhaps you can get it earlier' - to go with it. After nearly an hour's investigation, interrogation, and numerous phone calls, it was finally established that the tyre was supposed to be collected from the company's depot in another town, and I was left with the second job, which by then I had picked up at a nearby factory.
As I began this present stretch of three weeks of work, I realised that the MOT on the motorhome would expire before my next week off, so I arranged for this to be done, along with an annual service, on Monday. After (as I thought at the time) dealing with the van insurance, I took the motorhome to the garage, saying that I'd collect it between jobs later in the week. I eventually collected it after returning from the Kent delivery on Tuesday afternoon. It had failed the first test, simply because the horn wasn't working. Once the electrical contacts had been cleaned, it passed second time around.
Both Wednesday and Thursday mornings were spent at home, as I waited for work. Although not actually wasted, because I managed other things, it was frustrating, especially as I looked back to such full and flowing days only a few weeks ago. There was more frustration when I picked up a job on Thursday afternoon which should have had borne a bar-code. This would require different treatment with my hand-held device, and the job had been set up that way. With no bar-code to scan, this was extremely difficult; although I eventually managed to record that I'd got the box on board, there was no way it was going to accept a signature for it when I made the delivery. I had to phone the office with the name of the recipient, and get them to enter it. However, the job still lingered on my screen, so more time was wasted on Friday morning as I attended the office once more to get it sorted ... not to mention also the insurance!
There were, however, four highlights of the week. On Monday after returning from taking the motorhome for its MOT, I was sent for another 'practical Welsh lesson', going to the Rhondda, to Ysbyty Frenhinol Morgannwg, or the Royal Glamorgan Hospital. On Thursday, during my absence dealing with that box, some leads were delivered that I had ordered only the previous morning, enabling me to fit up the screen I had saved from my old computer, so I can now sit in the comfort of my armchair and watch i-Player TV or a DVD, instead of sitting at the desk. I also benefitted from the exercise of emptying a bookcase and shifting it in order to plug the screen into a socket behind it, and then putting all the books back again!
Yesterday's only job was to a private hospital in Sheffield, to get to which I had to pass through some areas I had first encountered almost twenty years ago, when I had run away from home and spent a couple of weeks tramping around in the February snow trying to find work there. It seemed strange to be there many years later in autumn sunshine; yet at one point I could almost feel the damp and smell the snow ... more ghosts layed!
And finally, today was the annual autumn outing of the bellringers' group. Along with friends from other towers, we visited five churches in south Cambridgeshire, enjoying the challenge of ringing other bells, the fellowship of people we don't meet every week, and the fun and laughter of an away day together.
As an example, at the start of the week, I presented my new insurance certificate, which was copied and submitted to the driver admin people. On Thursday an e-mail was received, pointing out that the word 'Courier' didn't appear on it, so could I provide other evidence confirming that this was indeed the intended meaning of '... and the policyholder's business'.
On Tuesday morning, I was supposed to collect one tyre from a local company at 8.30 to be taken to Kent. I was given another job - 'available at 9.30, but perhaps you can get it earlier' - to go with it. After nearly an hour's investigation, interrogation, and numerous phone calls, it was finally established that the tyre was supposed to be collected from the company's depot in another town, and I was left with the second job, which by then I had picked up at a nearby factory.
As I began this present stretch of three weeks of work, I realised that the MOT on the motorhome would expire before my next week off, so I arranged for this to be done, along with an annual service, on Monday. After (as I thought at the time) dealing with the van insurance, I took the motorhome to the garage, saying that I'd collect it between jobs later in the week. I eventually collected it after returning from the Kent delivery on Tuesday afternoon. It had failed the first test, simply because the horn wasn't working. Once the electrical contacts had been cleaned, it passed second time around.
Both Wednesday and Thursday mornings were spent at home, as I waited for work. Although not actually wasted, because I managed other things, it was frustrating, especially as I looked back to such full and flowing days only a few weeks ago. There was more frustration when I picked up a job on Thursday afternoon which should have had borne a bar-code. This would require different treatment with my hand-held device, and the job had been set up that way. With no bar-code to scan, this was extremely difficult; although I eventually managed to record that I'd got the box on board, there was no way it was going to accept a signature for it when I made the delivery. I had to phone the office with the name of the recipient, and get them to enter it. However, the job still lingered on my screen, so more time was wasted on Friday morning as I attended the office once more to get it sorted ... not to mention also the insurance!
There were, however, four highlights of the week. On Monday after returning from taking the motorhome for its MOT, I was sent for another 'practical Welsh lesson', going to the Rhondda, to Ysbyty Frenhinol Morgannwg, or the Royal Glamorgan Hospital. On Thursday, during my absence dealing with that box, some leads were delivered that I had ordered only the previous morning, enabling me to fit up the screen I had saved from my old computer, so I can now sit in the comfort of my armchair and watch i-Player TV or a DVD, instead of sitting at the desk. I also benefitted from the exercise of emptying a bookcase and shifting it in order to plug the screen into a socket behind it, and then putting all the books back again!
Yesterday's only job was to a private hospital in Sheffield, to get to which I had to pass through some areas I had first encountered almost twenty years ago, when I had run away from home and spent a couple of weeks tramping around in the February snow trying to find work there. It seemed strange to be there many years later in autumn sunshine; yet at one point I could almost feel the damp and smell the snow ... more ghosts layed!
And finally, today was the annual autumn outing of the bellringers' group. Along with friends from other towers, we visited five churches in south Cambridgeshire, enjoying the challenge of ringing other bells, the fellowship of people we don't meet every week, and the fun and laughter of an away day together.
 |
| St Mary Magdalene, Ickleton |
 |
| Preparing to ring at Trumpington |
Sunday 11 October 2015
Back in at the Deep End
The week began with harvest festival at the church. A new choir had been formed during the summer, which I had readily joined, and this was our first 'outing'. The service was followed by a simple lunch for about 120 ... no small task for the catering team, who did an excellent job! In the afternoon - across the town - the bellringers attempted a quarter peal, which was unsuccessful, although not before over 1,000 changes of good ringing had been achieved. A healing service in the evening rounded off a very busy day.
After two weeks of 'retirement', courier work this week came as more of a shock than any time since my reharnessing after Easter. And there was no gentle easing into it, either. After a couple of hours' wait (which allowed me to marshall my thoughts about entering to my various records all the stuff I'd collected at the record office on Friday), my first job was to Pontefract. This was a repeat run of one I'd done during my last working week, albeit that had been late in the day, so the road-busy-ness pattern was different. Returning about 4.0pm, I thought the day would be at and end, but I had to think again when I realised that the job that had appeared on my screen was for delivery that day, rather than Tuesday, and a run to Greenford neatly knocked out my attendance at bell-ringing practice.
This week has included a bit of most things that have made up my courier carreer, the cancellation of my evening plans being only the first. Next came the 'single job in a day', when Tuesday's job - to Cheltenham General Hospital - didn't begin until 11.0, so once more I had a morning at the keyboard, this time setting-up my newly installed computer Bible program. Wednesday's task was pre-announced, so I had the chance to research it online first. It took me to Jarrow, a place I had first visited over 24 years ago, as part of a 'Medieval Monks and Monasteries' course at Durham University. In fact this destination - reached midway through a day best described as 'a 6-hour car-wash' - was a small engineering works only a few hundred yards from St Paul's Church, where the Venerable Bede had started his ministry towards the end of the seventh century.
Thursday's experience was at the opposite end of the spectrum. I had phoned in as usual at 8.0, but having heard nothing by 2.15pm, by which time I had entered all my family history data and finalised my budget for 2016, I decided to ring again. I was told that I was their only driver (but wondered, perhaps ungraciously, whether I might have been overlooked completely). My suspicions were strengthened five minutes later when I received a call suggesting that, if I were willing to help out with a local job then, I could get a 'decent' job for the next day. The local job was to take some printed circuits to Newmarket; the 'decent' job turned out to be from Hertford (one of two that another driver was collecting) to Manchester airport ... for 9.0 am delivery!
Not having any idea what the effect of the morning rush-hour might be, I decided to allow almost an hour, and left home at 5.0. It worked. I arrived at 8.50, found the right office and made my delivery. Returning to the van, I called the local City Sprint office. Contrary to my expectations, I wasn't told to hang around while they waited to see what might come in; my next challenge was issued immediately, a collection near Crewe for an organisation in Melton Mowbray that, although I had never been there, I had registered many years ago as being one with whom I had had dealings in a past employment. My next phone in was nowhere near so productive ... so I headed home, thinking that early start had merited an early finish.
Just as the premature counting of unhatched chickens is decried, I had looked forward too early to a lazy evening. Before I had reached even the neighbouring county, let alone home, my screen had been visited by two more jobs, one to Leicester Royal Infirmary, and the other to a major industrial site in Nottingham. By the time I had stopped at a truckstop for an evening meal I had clocked up a sixteen-hour day ... and the week wasn't over yet!
Yesterday began with a short but futile attempt to achieve the usual weekend routines. Then, shortly after lunch, I set off on a personal journey. The first destination was to attend a football match in Bury St Edmunds ... part of the annual 'Non-league Day' celebration ... and then I paid a long overdue visit to my son and his wife, the excuse for this being to hand over my old computer which he had undertaken to coax on the next steps of its career.
At last comes the weekend rest ... all too short, I fear, before an early alarm heralds tomorrow's breakfast gathering!
After two weeks of 'retirement', courier work this week came as more of a shock than any time since my reharnessing after Easter. And there was no gentle easing into it, either. After a couple of hours' wait (which allowed me to marshall my thoughts about entering to my various records all the stuff I'd collected at the record office on Friday), my first job was to Pontefract. This was a repeat run of one I'd done during my last working week, albeit that had been late in the day, so the road-busy-ness pattern was different. Returning about 4.0pm, I thought the day would be at and end, but I had to think again when I realised that the job that had appeared on my screen was for delivery that day, rather than Tuesday, and a run to Greenford neatly knocked out my attendance at bell-ringing practice.
This week has included a bit of most things that have made up my courier carreer, the cancellation of my evening plans being only the first. Next came the 'single job in a day', when Tuesday's job - to Cheltenham General Hospital - didn't begin until 11.0, so once more I had a morning at the keyboard, this time setting-up my newly installed computer Bible program. Wednesday's task was pre-announced, so I had the chance to research it online first. It took me to Jarrow, a place I had first visited over 24 years ago, as part of a 'Medieval Monks and Monasteries' course at Durham University. In fact this destination - reached midway through a day best described as 'a 6-hour car-wash' - was a small engineering works only a few hundred yards from St Paul's Church, where the Venerable Bede had started his ministry towards the end of the seventh century.
Thursday's experience was at the opposite end of the spectrum. I had phoned in as usual at 8.0, but having heard nothing by 2.15pm, by which time I had entered all my family history data and finalised my budget for 2016, I decided to ring again. I was told that I was their only driver (but wondered, perhaps ungraciously, whether I might have been overlooked completely). My suspicions were strengthened five minutes later when I received a call suggesting that, if I were willing to help out with a local job then, I could get a 'decent' job for the next day. The local job was to take some printed circuits to Newmarket; the 'decent' job turned out to be from Hertford (one of two that another driver was collecting) to Manchester airport ... for 9.0 am delivery!
Not having any idea what the effect of the morning rush-hour might be, I decided to allow almost an hour, and left home at 5.0. It worked. I arrived at 8.50, found the right office and made my delivery. Returning to the van, I called the local City Sprint office. Contrary to my expectations, I wasn't told to hang around while they waited to see what might come in; my next challenge was issued immediately, a collection near Crewe for an organisation in Melton Mowbray that, although I had never been there, I had registered many years ago as being one with whom I had had dealings in a past employment. My next phone in was nowhere near so productive ... so I headed home, thinking that early start had merited an early finish.
Just as the premature counting of unhatched chickens is decried, I had looked forward too early to a lazy evening. Before I had reached even the neighbouring county, let alone home, my screen had been visited by two more jobs, one to Leicester Royal Infirmary, and the other to a major industrial site in Nottingham. By the time I had stopped at a truckstop for an evening meal I had clocked up a sixteen-hour day ... and the week wasn't over yet!
Yesterday began with a short but futile attempt to achieve the usual weekend routines. Then, shortly after lunch, I set off on a personal journey. The first destination was to attend a football match in Bury St Edmunds ... part of the annual 'Non-league Day' celebration ... and then I paid a long overdue visit to my son and his wife, the excuse for this being to hand over my old computer which he had undertaken to coax on the next steps of its career.
At last comes the weekend rest ... all too short, I fear, before an early alarm heralds tomorrow's breakfast gathering!
Saturday 3 October 2015
Busy Week of 'No Work'!
As hinted in my last post, this week began with the trip to Cambridgeshire. It's often the case that, whether it's meeting a new correspondent for the first time, or a visit to an unknown venue, the actual differs considerably from the anticipation. I was apprehensive about what I might achieve, and had imagined some walking over (hopefully dried) muddy fenland tracks. Both of these fore-thoughts were far from the case ... and not independent of each other!
The first surprise was to find that I had the place to myself. Apart from three parked-up unoccupied caravans, the park was empty ... and I saw no sign of fishermen either until the day I left. This was quickly followed by discovering that there was no phone signal, so not only did I not have to worry about incoming nuisance calls ... there was therefore no Wi-Fi, so there was no distraction from social media either! Amazingly, by an hour or so after the shock of finding myself 'cut-off', this didn't bother me.
The site was separated from one of the fishing lakes by a line of leylandii, but a path led to the other side of this barrier, and on both afternoons I enjoyed the experience of walking round the lake on the broad grassy surround, in warm sunshine, and without the slightest hint of a muddy track! It was the ideal opportunity to marshall my thoughts and, by Tuesday afternoon I found that I had accomplished all that I'd intended. I was also rewarded on one of my afternoon strolls by the shocking - and beautiful - sight of a fish rising vertically out of the water, like a bather pushing up from the floor of a swimming pool. Having displayed itself, it then sank back into the lake, leaving only an intense pattern of circular ripples to confirm that it had been real, and not a dream!
I returned home on Wednesday to the contrast of a noisy and exciting fund-raising quiz night at the church. This engaged - for the first time for most, if not all, of us - an internet quizmaster, supported by a computer whiz and two charming young mums from our midst who acted as hostesses/ comperes for the evening. The questions were presented, and our answers submitted, on our smart phones or tablets. I was fortunate to be on the winning team, although considering the large proportion of questions that focussed on TV, sport, films, pop music and the celebrity culture, this was in very small part due to my own prowess!
Thursday was a day of admin. and I stayed indoors all day. Being the start of a new month, most of a long morning was devoted to accounts and things financial, and after lunch I turned my attention to family history, preparing for a visit to the Suffolk Record Office yesterday. Having been slightly more successful there than usual with the majority of my searches, I decided to abandon the quest for the few obscurities and came home mid-afternoon, instead of staying until closing time. This enabled me to fit in my weekly shopping in advance of another busy day today.
The first surprise was to find that I had the place to myself. Apart from three parked-up unoccupied caravans, the park was empty ... and I saw no sign of fishermen either until the day I left. This was quickly followed by discovering that there was no phone signal, so not only did I not have to worry about incoming nuisance calls ... there was therefore no Wi-Fi, so there was no distraction from social media either! Amazingly, by an hour or so after the shock of finding myself 'cut-off', this didn't bother me.
The site was separated from one of the fishing lakes by a line of leylandii, but a path led to the other side of this barrier, and on both afternoons I enjoyed the experience of walking round the lake on the broad grassy surround, in warm sunshine, and without the slightest hint of a muddy track! It was the ideal opportunity to marshall my thoughts and, by Tuesday afternoon I found that I had accomplished all that I'd intended. I was also rewarded on one of my afternoon strolls by the shocking - and beautiful - sight of a fish rising vertically out of the water, like a bather pushing up from the floor of a swimming pool. Having displayed itself, it then sank back into the lake, leaving only an intense pattern of circular ripples to confirm that it had been real, and not a dream!
I returned home on Wednesday to the contrast of a noisy and exciting fund-raising quiz night at the church. This engaged - for the first time for most, if not all, of us - an internet quizmaster, supported by a computer whiz and two charming young mums from our midst who acted as hostesses/ comperes for the evening. The questions were presented, and our answers submitted, on our smart phones or tablets. I was fortunate to be on the winning team, although considering the large proportion of questions that focussed on TV, sport, films, pop music and the celebrity culture, this was in very small part due to my own prowess!
Thursday was a day of admin. and I stayed indoors all day. Being the start of a new month, most of a long morning was devoted to accounts and things financial, and after lunch I turned my attention to family history, preparing for a visit to the Suffolk Record Office yesterday. Having been slightly more successful there than usual with the majority of my searches, I decided to abandon the quest for the few obscurities and came home mid-afternoon, instead of staying until closing time. This enabled me to fit in my weekly shopping in advance of another busy day today.
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