I loved my parents’ bedroom.  We had big bay windows, downstairs they were floor to ceiling but  upstairs the glass started at knee height, not that that gave a lot more modesty.  The rooms would be rectangular otherwise except for the fireplace, which was set at an angle to send the warmth into the room.  My parents had the room with the ensuite bathroom and dressing room, though the last of those could be accessed from the landing as well as the bathroom.  They had an elegant four-poster bed and I liked to swing round the posts when I was a child.  My mother used to tell me to stop, saying that the bed was very old – but I thought that was silly, if it was so old then it was used to being swung on.

Actually, that bed was one of my very early memories.  I was only three when we moved from Weymouth to Oulton Broad and I have very few memories of our flat at the hotel.  One was going down a corridor, looking into their room and seeing the bed being dismantled, an unusual enough sight to have lodged in the little Z brain.

The rug was white with pink and blue flowers, as far as I remember and there was a big round table in the bay.  On the side wall was a triangular window sill, and the dogs used to keep watch from that.  My parents could hear the watch change during the night, we were well guarded.  The dogs also slept on their bed, which was male territory – the female dogs could sleep with me, my sister or wherever they wanted, but not on the four-poster or under it, a place known as The Club.  The rug was bare under the bed, where the dogs scratched a comfortable place.  I used to crawl underneath sometimes, but I never set up camp there.

There was a big, deep bath which was panelled in black, though it had claw feet and was rather handsome without the panel.  Although there was another bathroom, that was mostly for guests and my sister and I used our parents’.  We weren’t expected to knock when we went in to bathroom or bedroom, though there was a sign on the door saying ‘engaged’ on one side and ‘disengaged’ on the other.  I have that hanging on my bathroom door now, not that it’s ever turned.  Being small, I used to lie full-length in the bath with just my nose out of the water, gently floating.

I thought I’d get up a bit early today, since I’d made no preparations at all for lunch, but I overslept instead and woke up well after 8 o’clock.  Andy, my fellow organist, is in hospital, which I only found out last night, so I was playing at today’s service.  So it wasn’t until nearly 11 that I started getting ready.

Fortunately, I’d planned a simple meal – caesar salad, roast chicken with green beans and roasted vegetables, poached pears with almond tart.  I also had to light and maintain two fires, which is the tricky bit as Russell always used to keep an eye on them and he’d also lay the table, if asked.  In addition, two friends called in during the morning, but that’s always a pleasure and they were both being helpful, so I certainly didn’t begrudge the time spent in making coffee and finding things for them.  And after an hour and a half scuttling round I was ready and it was so good to see Ed again, we’ve been friends forever but have hardly seen each other for an awfully long time.  We fell into a lovely, easy friendship and Charlotte is a great friend of both of us too, so it’s been a good day, though we spoke of some painful things at times.

Now, at 11 o’clock, I’ve had a bath and am sitting by the fire with Ben on the sofa behind me, dozing.  I’m so tempted to stay and sleep here – I won’t, of course, my bed is far more comfortable.  But falling asleep by the fire is lovely.  When I had my hip operation nearly five years ago and Russell kindly brought a bed downstairs to encourage me to take an afternoon rest, sleeping in a room with a fire was the best bit and I was shamefully reluctant to start going upstairs to bed again.  I remember that after my father died and we needed to do anything that could possibly cheer us up, my mother started using the fireplace in her bedroom and it became our favourite room.  It was a lot of work though, carrying coal upstairs and cinders down, so I don’t suppose we did it for more than a couple of winters.

1 All chickens had come home to roost, good girls (and boy)

2 Stevo came over to help and a prodigious amount of work has been done – in the past week, the wall at the end of the drive has finally been mended, thanks to Dave; the new gate and its posts have been erected to the Ups and Downs, thanks to Jamie; the shrubbery has been drastically (and necessarily) cut back, thanks to Stephen; all the cut-off shrubbery has been barrowed down to the bonfire and burnt, along with the old gateposts and sundry other rubbish, thanks to Stevo and me.  Oh, and the feed bin in the wrong place has been moved, also thanks to Stevo and me. I am just so damn sad that Russell never let us get on and finish a job and that most of these weren’t done a long time ago.  Three sessions, that’s all it took.  And the pine needles and Virginia creeper leaves have been raked up too.  Oh, the flower bed by the small section of The Wall is nearly completed, thanks to Jamie and Stevo.

3 Charlotte and her cousin Ed are coming to lunch tomorrow.  Ed’s wife died just before Christmas last year.  He’s a year older than I, she was rather younger.  There’s a lot of it about. Unfortunately, it’s just dawned on me that the All Souls’ Day service must be tomorrow afternoon – this was instituted some years ago by a former rector, to commemorate the dead, and I’ve had an invitation.  I’ve played the organ at it many times and I’d intended to go, not that I want to – but I clearly can’t.  I’m pushed to go to the 9.30 service, but I’ll have to, if only to apologise.

4 Food, a rather more cheery subject.  Lunch yesterday was a Twiglet occasion and today it involved the last of the packet (which had done two meals) plus a couple of cold sausages.  However, Al & co came over this afternoon and I ate a biscuit, followed by a mini Almond Magnum (these are choc ices, darlings, if you are not so fortunate as to live in this country), which filled something of a chink.  Then I roasted a duck breast for supper which I’d previously rubbed caringly with ras el hanout and, when within a gnat’s crotchet of being cooked, I drizzled with honey – some of the last from Al’s bees, in fact.  I also had roast potatoes and several other vegetables.  When I put it on the plate, Benje put his head lovingly on my knee and his tongue flicked in and out – but he was a good boy and didn’t try to steal.  I saved him a bit for the end.

5 Ben had a lovely day because Bex and family took him out for a long walk.  He adores them all and was so happy and relaxed by the time he came home.  He’s curled up on the sofa next to me now.