We went to Norwich Castle, which houses the city’s museum.  And, when buying an annual pass, I was gratified to find that they have kept the concession age at 60 rather than raise it to the current retirement age.  It would have been nice if the assistant had looked astonished when I claimed it, but there we go.

They have done some rearranging since I was last there and the Royal Anglian Regiment display is where the Lowestoft china used to be, though the latter is only moved to another area of the same landing.  In view of the centenary of the start of the Great War, it’s understandable that they are giving it such prominence.  But the Lowestoft, oh dear.  There is a fabulous collection there and now it’s nearly all archived.  When they had a major revamp some years ago, the decision was made to put a lot of items in store and to give those on display more space.  I can’t say I agree with that, but it’s a valid argument – however, this meant that some beautiful and valuable items, bought with donated money or public finance, or given  by generous benefactors, which have great local historical interest, have never been seen since except by the few who make private appointments to see them.  And now, it’s far worse because even more have been stashed away.  I do understand the problems of space and that nowadays museums are presented quite differently than in the past, but if one area of the cabinet was given over to temporary exhibits, so that there was a regular changeover of some of the pieces, it would be much more satisfying.  I haven’t seen my favourite piece, a lovely early two-handled loving cup, for years.

I didn’t go over the whole museum, I prefer to look at a few items at a time if I’m going to be able to visit regularly, but I looked at the Norwich school paintings and the Norwich silver and then went to see the Lowestoft cat too.  This room contains various collections left to the museum and has been given a makeover too.  The cat collection is still there (labelled with the former owner’s name) but laid out rather better, having been given more space.  However, no attempt is made to say how old each item is nor which factory it came from and the same can be said for other displays.  The children will be disappointed to find that one of the odder curios has been removed (I suppose it might have been put in another room, but suspect not).  This is a mummified hand, which was cut off in a duel a couple of hundred years ago.  It is remarkably small, for a grown man’s hand.

I promised some reminiscences in the new year and, now my life is back to the usual round of school stuff, I think the time has come.  Or it will have by tomorrow, at any rate.

I have to say, this is getting complicated.  I shall explain…

I have had my iPhone 4S for two years now and in fact my contract was finished a month ago.  I didn’t get around to sorting it out at the end of last year because I was so busy, but I’ve been in to Norwich to do it now.

Ah.  Back up a bit.

Weeza phoned this morning, sounding a bit woebegone.

Ah.  Back up a bit.

I missed her call because the carpet cleaners arrived, so I texted her to tell her I’d ring back.  The carpets are cleaned and I’m very pleased.  A massive bargain at £19 for a 12’x9′ washed Chinese rug and an 18’x20′ fitted carpet.  Plus £2 tip, which felt a bit less than generous under the circumstances, but it was what I had in my little red wallet.

Anyway, Weeza was a bit down, so I suggested a bit of a girly fling, mum’s treat.  And that perked her up for a start.  So I asked Russell if he’d like to come with us and he would, so we set off – but we’d barely got to the end of the drive when he remembered an appointment an hour and a half later, with someone who needed to choose a grave plot for his wife.  Thank goodness he did remember, that would have been awful to have missed.  So I had to leave him behind, with the suggestion we go out tomorrow instead.

We met at the Apple Store.  And darlings, I have my shiny new iPhone 5S and am very happy.  And I’ve spent quite a long time on iTunes transferring things from one phone to another.  And that’s the complicated part.  You see, there are now three iPhones in the family.  The first one was given to Russell when I bought the second and now that’s been passed on to him in its turn.  But all of them were bought by me so are all in my name, and when transferring data, one is faced with Z.. S…..’s IPhone, with nothing to indicate which is which.

Anyway, all is done, after a few hours.  And the rest of the time in Norwich was spent having lunch, where Gus was a cheerful little darling who ate up nicely, and shopping for clothes for Weeza, where he was perfectly well-behaved and completely good humoured as we waited for her to try things on.  And I’m here to testify that she can comfortably get into size 6.  She bought the next size in fact, because she felt the jeans might not be completely kind (go up a size is often good advice, rarely taken, but she decided that for herself), but – blimey, darlings, size 6 (size 2 if you’re American).  She hasn’t dieted, she’s just busy.

i should back up a bit one more time, right to the start.  I slept so well last night that I only woke up a couple of minutes before the radio turned off (it’s on for an hour, from 7.15).  And I toddled along to the bathroom and then thought – ahh, let’s check emails and the news from bed, and then let’s look at Scrabble.  And while I was considering my options there, I zonked out again and didn’t wake up until nearly 10 o’clock.  Eek!  I dressed and scurried around getting the bedroom ready for the rug to be cleaned, but thought it was fine as they were due at 10.30.  They arrived at 10.05!  How fortunate that I’d got things ready last night or I’d have felt quite the fool.

The drawing room is looking strangely bare.  It still has a cabinet, a bureau, a revolving bookcase, a sofa, two armchairs, four tables, a television, a computer and two lamps, but I have carried (or dragged) the rest of the furniture into the music room, as we’ve now named the first dining room*, to clear as much space as possible because I’m having the carpet cleaned tomorrow morning.

The offer is to wash two carpets for £19.  I’ve explained that the rooms are quite large, but that’s still the price.  I know, of course, that I’ll be offered stainguarding and so on, for extra money, but frankly, it’ll be money wasted.  The way mud is tramped into this house, it overwhelms any protection of that sort.  Besides, I’m thinking of replacing this ancient carpet before too long.

I sleep far better nowadays than I have been, but last night was an exception.  I woke soon after 2 am and was awake for several hours.  I listened to David Sedaris, Peter Wimsey, Brain of Britain and Round the Horne, I read most of a book, I played quite a few games of virtual cards and a number of rounds of QuizUp.  It was quite nice really.  When I was a bit cold I turned the electric blanket on for a while.  Eventually, I snuggled back down again and slept dreamlessly for another couple of hours.  I did have something on my mind that wouldn’t let me settle for ages, I had to drive it away with fiction.  And it was an easy day, except for the furniture shifting.  In fact, I didn’t put on my face nor my lens in.  I only remembered I hadn’t brushed my hair as I shambled into the supermarket to buy vegetables.  It really is a nuisance, not having a greengrocer in town – except the good news is that Russell says there’s a sign on a shop by the Buttercross to say that a new one is opening soon.  Well, I’ll be a frequent and appreciative customer.

*Since it houses Russell’s gramophone and polyphon and my pianola and clarinet, and frees up a name for the second dining room, which really can’t be called the new room much longer, after some 22 years, I bear with the pretentiousness.

… which is how I described myself to someone a while ago.  Whatever else I’ll be or do for the rest of my life, I’d love to be remembered as an adoring granny.  I’m incredibly lucky to live near enough to my family to see them regularly.  At the ages the children are now, there are changes every time I see them, particularly with the youngest two, whose speech and personality development is endlessly interesting every time I see them.

I’ll have Al and Dilly’s three here tomorrow morning and am looking forward to it very much.  I am not yet sure what we’ll do – maybe some cooking or painting.  The older two like board games, but Hay is a bit young for them.  I’m sure the piano will be played at some point.

Tomorrow will be four weeks since I had a manicure and there have only been three minor nail breakages since.  I’m foolish to be hopeful, I know – but I’m quite sensible enough in most of what I do, so a bit of wild optimism won’t do any harm.

I had a very sensible letter to write this afternoon, which I finally sent off, after several revisions, a little while ago.  It was about church finance and administrative matters – oh my word, how ineffably dull I am.  I managed to extricate myself from it all, but I’ve been drawn in again to an extent.  I shall try very hard to stay balanced on the edge of that slippery slope until I can draw back to a safer distance.

Weeza has mentioned that Sunday 15th June is Fathers’ Day, so Saturday 14th would suit them better for a party here.  So I’ve put it in my diary and, unless a lot of people can’t make it, that’s when it will be.  No wonder I’m feeling so cheerful.

Blog party update – best options at present are the 7th, 8th, 14th or 15th June.  If trying to book you up six months in advance seems excessive, I have to agree with you.  But – well, there it is.  We’d love you to come if you can, you’re very welcome to stay and please don’t think it matters if you haven’t met us yet or if you don’t have a blog.  We’re on the Norfolk/Suffolk border, half an hour from the sea, if you need an idea of geography.

Thanks for your replies so far about the blog party – I’ll do an update when I’ve heard from more people.  Several have other things to do at present than keep up with blogs, reading or writing, so I’ll send a few emails around in a while.  So far, it looks like the 10th or 17th May, 7th or 14th June or 5th or 19th July, if it’s a Saturday, or the corresponding Sunday in each case and there are a couple of other Sunday options too.

The garden list I wrote has fourteen items on it.  Some are jobs I can do, some I need help with, some are certainly not for me.  For example, a little playhouse that Russell made for the children a few years ago will be turned into a new henhouse, and nest boxes have to be made for it, and I’m no carpenter.  I’m a weak and feeble woman when it comes to sawing wood, I’m quite pathetic.  And there are paving slabs to be taken up and relaid, which is beyond either of us – that is, we both have more sense than to attempt anything so strenuous.  I’m quite looking forward to getting stuck in to those I can do though, I love a project, especially when it involves energetic work.  I’ve had quite enough rest for the last couple of weeks and am ready to be busy again.  Of course, the weather may be against us.  We’ve missed most of the bad weather suffered by much of the country, which isn’t unusual for this part of the world.  We don’t usually do extremes.  I wrote a list a few months ago and there were two items not done or unfinished – one was to move all pots out of the grass – why does anyone leave stuff lying about that later has to be mown round?  Ask Al.  Ask his father.  I don’t know the answer.  That wasn’t finished because – well, I don’t know that either.  I did some of it and asked a boy who was doing some Saturday work for us to do the rest, but Russell kept taking him away from what he saw as a pointless job.  That’s down again.  Dismantling the summerhouse isn’t, but it will get done this year, if not this winter.

This time of the year is always one for funerals, isn’t it?  A memorial service today at the Cathedral and hundreds of people were there because the man who had died was well known and loved in the Norwich area.  I took a friend, who isn’t driving at present because she has cracked a couple of ribs in a fall.  Although there were hundreds of people there and the Bishop himself gave the address, it was a warm and simple service, a loving farewell.

My good friend Ally (whom I’ve not yet met) has returned to blogging after having been forced out of it by family circumstances.  She is a wonderful, stalwart person who forges through genuinely tragic events and is open and honest about the difficulties she sometimes can’t cope with.  I usually only add people to my blogroll once they’ve commented here – simply because otherwise it would be so very long – but I make an exception for her.

Well, how lovely – two resting bloggers have picked up their blogs again and have kindly dropped in to leave comments.  Sablonneuse and Debum are old blog friends of mine, one in France and one in India, so it’s a pleasure to hear from them again.  I’ve linked to their blogs on my sidebar.

Now, the other subject of this post – I hardly need to say, but I will – you’re all invited, of course (I realise that I won’t be fortunate enough to have trans-continental visitors every year, but there’s no reason not to hope).  That I’d like to know if you’re coming is mainly so that I can put out enough chairs, but there’s no limit.  As before, we are very happy to welcome overnight guests too, we have plenty of room although, if all beds are in use, someone may end up on a mattress.  Possibly even me.

Last year, we went for the last Saturday in June, but I can’t see any commitments here at present in early summer, so any time in May, June or July would suit.  Would you let me know any preferences – or maybe, definite dates to avoid? I mention it so early because I know many of you are vastly busy.  Of course, mentioning a date puts you under no obligation.

I haven’t consulted the family yet, I’ll try to rope them in too.

It was a lovely sunny morning, so I spent an hour tidying up in the garden.  A torrential downpour right now, so I’m feeling pretty smug that I got on and did it.  I know some of you will have had dreadful weather all day, hope you’re all warm and dry.

And now, I’m going to write a garden to-do list, to take us through the next three months.  This is not going to involve gardening as such, but ‘take up stone slabs and re-lay path,’ construct new chicken run,’ ‘dismantle old shed’ – that sort of thing.  I can, at least, tick off something already.  I don’t think that’s cheating in the least…

When you go to give blood, they check your haemoglobin level.  i’m a bit simple and terribly ignorant, but I think it’s meths that they use – one of you will know and correct me – anyway, the nurse pricks your finger, draws off a drop of blood and lets it fall into a vial of liquid.  If it drops to the bottom, you’re fine.  Today, mine plummeted.  So I’m very fine, it seems, though the 16 week minimum between donations is cut to the bone now – it used to be 6 months, then 5.  Last time was my birthday, 10th September.

When I left, a couple were wandering around outside looking anxious.  I looked quizzically helpful and they asked if I worked here? – no, but could I help?  It turned out they were looking for the hospital, this is the convent and conference centre.  I pondered for a couple of seconds and said I’d lead them there, it was a couple of miles and simpler to take them.  In fact, it only was a few hundred yards out of my way, no problem at all and easier than explaining.

Verbal instructions, hey.  Oh, I find them so hard to follow.  If I listen throughout, I forget the start by the time it’s finished.  So I try to concentrate on the first three or four instructions at least, relying on native wit or someone else to ask further on.

It wasn’t really the day for a country walk, but that’s what was on offer, so that’s what I did.  Our friends have a New Year’s Day party every year – first a walk, which this year was set for 3, 5 1/2 or 7 1/2 miles, then back to their place for soup and cheese.  Several people make soup and we try as many as we can manage – they’re all always delicious.

The weather was not good, but we loaded Ben in the car (plus towels and a blanket for later) and arrived in time for a stirrup cup of mulled cyder, Adrian being a leading light of the local cyder club.  They make gallons of it – literally, they forage for several tons of apples each year.

Only a dozen or so opted for the long walk.  I’d intended to do the short one, but a friend looked disappointed, so I changed my mind and scrambled on the trailer to be taken to the start of the medium one. Her husband lifted up Ben, which would be beyond my capabilities.  Later, seeing me being towed down a slippery path, he kindly took Ben’s lead and walked him the rest of the way.  I felt a wimp, but was immensely grateful by the end because I’d have struggled.  Mike and Ann, this couple are the people you’ve stayed with – as has Tim – at their guest house.  The short walkers missed a turning and went a couple of miles out of their way, so looked tired when they got back.  Russell intended to do that walk but changed his mind because of the filthy weather and spent an hour by the fireside instead, which was a great relief to me because I’d been worried about him.

It was so good to catch up with friends and talk to new village residents too.  I should add to my new year’s intentions: to join in with things more.  I used to go to WI, gardening club and other events at that village, but felt guilty about going out in the evenings and leaving Russell – but we don’t do anything here, we often don’t even talk much.  It’s friendly enough, on our his’n’hers iPads or reading or occasionally watching television, but not exactly vibrant.

Which reminds me, last night (sorry, Facebook friends, you’ll be reading about this twice – or you could just stop now) I dismissed most of what was on television and put on the DVD of The Big Sleep, on my computer because the DVD player stopped working ages ago and I watch films so rarely it’s hardly been worth buying another.  And within minutes, I spotted a detail I’d not noticed before, but which was very nice.

The film starts with Philip Marlowe (the peerless Humphrey Bogart) arriving at a mansion and being ushered into an overheated conservatory, where his employer is sitting amongst the orchids.  And you can see his shirt getting damper as he gets hotter – it looks completely genuine.  Then he goes out and speaks to the butler again and his shirt is still wet in exactly the same places.  After that, he goes into another room to speak to Vivian (Lauren Bacall) and the shirt is still sweaty, but gradually dries out during the scene, completely realistically.  This fantastic attention to detail , completely  unremarked – it was a white shirt, so wasn’t that obvious – made me very happy.

The film and the book have only a tenuous link, really, but I love them both.  And the book has one of my favourite descriptive phrases when, introducing Carmen, it says ‘she was … small and delicately put together, but she looked durable.’  Marvellous.