Well, we went to the theatre, which was the RSC’s production of the Roman play (JC by WS) and it was – well, the cast was enthusiastic. And competent, except for, sometimes, voice projection. I have good hearing for my age (I had a hearing test and that’s official) and I had to focus all the time to hear it all and, as there was no amplification, it really relied on clear, projected voices. Everyone managed it some of the time, few managed it all the time. Caesar himself did and so did Mark Antony except in the final ‘Noblest Roman of them all’ speech.

I’m fine with modern Shakespeare, experimental Shakespeare, gender and racial neutral Shakespeare. As Wink’s neighbour said at the end, Shakespeare always wins. He also, having read the programme, said after the interval, “hmm, it’s a young director, I didn’t really need to be told that,” We would like to sit next to him every time, he was dryly hilarious.

At the interval, I said to Wink, I was considering whether that was a second or third year stage school interpretation. She thought I was being over-generous by a year, but I didn’t. All the same, a lot of the gimmicks were pointless. I liked the touch of some of the main characters being women. In speeches, she was used instead of he but man was retained, rather than being changed to woman. That was fine. Colour of the actors was unimportant. I want to check whether Brutus’ servant or, more likely slave, was actually mute and whether Antony said, at the end, that he was safe with him.

Overall, the audience was good-humoured and receptive, whilst clearly recognising that it was a somewhat amateur production.

When we went in the theatre, it was unrecognisable. They’ve revamped the foyer, bar and restaurant areas and it’s changed so radically that I truly didn’t know the place. There were numerous volunteer ushers to point us in the right direction. The seating gives more legroom, though they’ve done away with the central aisle to make up some of the loss of seats, which isn’t great.

I spotted a woman, several rows ahead, with the most fabulous hair. It was steel grey, which rippled in thick waves down her back and the bottom 15cm or so was dyed a lovely rich chestnut colour. It was a variation on the ombré technique, I told my hairdresser about it the next day and she asked if it was growing out – no, it was certainly intended to be like that. If there had been any doubt, I saw another woman with blonde hair, blue at the bottom, which wasn’t quite so effective – it was just that the first woman had the most glorious hair and the variation drew the eye. Maybe it’s just the latest fashion in Norwich, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it catches on.

It’s just as well that I was already awake when another bird fell down the chimney at about 5am today. I couldn’t be bothered to get up, it could wait. In fact, I fell asleep after a while and was woken by the phone – someone ringing to tell me she has a bad cold, so didn’t think it was fair to our lecturer if she picked him up from the station tomorrow. She’s right, I think we’re all more aware now about passing on germs, so I’ve said I’ll do it.

I’ve still not had so much as a sniffle since late 2019. I still suspect it was Covid, before we’d even heard of it, and that it was worldwide for several months before they say it was, but perhaps it was just another very strange illness that had symptoms just like it. Anyway, I’ve digressed enough.

When I got up, I went through the usual routine of moving the chest of drawers, taking away the board, opening one window and leaving all other curtains undrawn, then left the room with the door closed. Hop is still alive and quite perky, poor thing. She can move her legs but not bear any weight at all. As it’s chilly and quite bleak – flaming sodding June – I’ve kept her indoors today. I’m afraid Polly will be lonely but she doesn’t want to go with the others and I’m hesitant to take another out of the flock to put with her. I really am not sure what to do, but I think I will probably put her coop in the run, so that she has company but isn’t obliged to mingle. That will wait until Thursday, when Wince can help me.

Later, while drinking coffee, I heard clattering from the bedroom. A dove was flapping around, too thick to fly through the open window. I managed to catch it after a few minutes and let it go – it released a lot of feathers onto the carpet. I gathered them and threw them out of the east window, which wasn’t a great idea with an easterly wind. I did it again, throwing them out more carefully.

Later, I started to write a letter to Tim’s bank. After I got probate, last May, I uploaded it on to their website and got a reply to say everything had been received and the contents of his bank account would be put in mine. But they weren’t, though I’ve had bank statements regularly. I just couldn’t face dealing with it. I broke a long time ago, I’ll never mend and I can only deal with stuff when I feel up to it. But then I had a letter yesterday asking about things – I’m in Tim’s will under his surname, but I’ve never changed mine legally and I’ve decided not to. I’ve had the Sage’s name for 50 years and, though I would have changed if Tim were still here, it’s sadder to do so than not.

Halfway through writing the letter, I thought it would be quicker to email. So I went on to the website and the chat helpline. I was put through to the bereavement helpline, which had a queue. After half an hour or so, I wondered if the transfer had really happened and phoned instead – or rather, I phoned as well. The telephone won the race. I suspect the transfer had not worked. Anyway, the woman I spoke to was very helpful and has opened up a new portal for me to upload everything again. She’s also given me details of what to do about Tim’s share portfolio, which still languishes, frozen.

Not today. None of it will happen today. I’ve used up all my fortitude. But I’ve got some Nadfas and auction work to get on with and then Wink and I are going to Norwich to the theatre tonight. It’s a busy week and I might find reasons not to do it at all – which would be stupid, of course.

Hop the chicken survived the night, having decided to go from lying flat with her eyes shut for a couple of hours, to sitting up, eating ad drinking. She was thirsty this morning rather than hungry, but she ate a little once I put her back with Polly. Now, I’ve got her back in the porch, mostly to save me from squatting miserably on the grass, persuading her to eat and drink this evening.

It’s all about the birds here at present. I was in my bedroom, putting clean sheets etc for the cleaners, when I heard a bird fall down the chimney. I moved the chest of drawers that’s in front of the (covered) fireplace, opened the board blocking it and opened the window, closing all curtains except one. Stupid pigeon seems to have got out.

I felt anxious and agitated. So I channeled the nervous energy into cooking – first French onion soup and then eggs and bacon (with tomatoes and mushrooms) for my lunch. The soup is fabulous, I added seasoning and then tasted it, and had eaten three spoonsful before I was able to stop.

The online training was Prevent, which is part of safeguarding, but specific. It was okay, actually. Done and I’ve got a sustificate and it’s been sent in and uploaded to the proper place. I bet some people won’t have met the deadline (the real deadline is later, of course, the stated one is the ambition).

My other business half came over today and we decided on our suggested reserves for the china that was delivered last week. I’ve typed everything up and sent it off, so that’s one job mostly done. I did the condition report while I was at it, so that also saves me bother later in the year. I’ve got some more stuff booked in, but I’m pretty well there for the next auction. A few more spaces for late entries, but not much.

It’s a bit dismal here in two respects. One is the lame chicken, Hop. It was the end of last year when she started to have difficulty walking and I put here into a coop, hoping she’d be better after a few days. When she was still limping, I brought Polly, the old black bantam and they spent the winter in the coop in the porch. This was good for Polly, who is showing her age and struggles in the cold weather. Once spring arrived, I put the coop outside and have moved it regularly on to fresh grass. They were pleased when I put it near the chicken run, they seemed to enjoy seeing and hearing the others.

However, a few days ago, Hop lost the use of her legs. When I picked her up, she had laid an egg, bless her, but couldn’t support her weight and now the legs seem completely paralysed. She’s still eating and drinking and I can’t bring myself to cull her, but I see no hope that she will recover. She’s thin, half the weight of Polly, who is being very sweet and stays close to her most of the time. I can see nothing wrong. Her legs are smooth and undamaged, her eyes are bright and she can use her wings, but she can’t do anything with her legs.

Sad in a different way, the Virginia creeper on the western front of the house, that had grown all the way round across the end and the other side, died over the winter. There’s still a smaller vine on the front which is okay, but the big one is dead. It looks awful, all the dead branches and twigs covering the house. I’ve no idea why that happened either. 30 years ago, the one on the east side died and, when we dug it up, we found a wet white rot on the root, which crept across the drive to two trees over the next few years, so I suppose it’s possible that it’s the same thing. The remaining creeper had grown all the way round to replace the one we’d lost.

The deadline is today to do online Safeguarding/Prevent training for school. I suppose it’s actually tomorrow morning, but that would just be irresponsible. I also have to do online Safeguarding training for the church, three modules of it. Church and schools could not care less about getting their act together and combining forces. A teacher friend, who does work in a few schools regularly, tells me that she has to do in-school training at every school she works at. I said, at least she’s paid.

We’ve had a houseful, with the American and Indian visitors and it was great, though the weather was miserable. I lit the fire in the evenings and Wink had the central heating on, but wooly hats and thick jackets were called into action. Of course, now they’re gone, it’s been warm and sunny today. They haven’t left the country, they’re all in London at present and flying back next week.

I’m gradually getting some work done. I’ve got a pile of tissue paper and boxes in front of me, having been unwrapping and labelling china for the next auction. I haven’t counted up all the lots booked in, but I haven’t much space left, so hope that more people don’t come forward with their stuff as I don’t like to turn people away. I accepted some, not realising that it’s all in quite poor condition – the owner had inherited it and didn’t notice the damage. I’m going to have to lower the suggested reserves on those, but I’ve got plenty of other lovely pieces.

Wink and I have been comparing diaries. There seems to be a lot happening for the next couple of weeks, but I’m hoping to get down to Pembrokeshire for a few days at the end of the month. I’m taking Ro and the children in August and would like to get it ready first. John G, formerly of Publog, has invited me to stay overnight on the way. He is very pleased to have got a mobility scooter now and a friend walked with him to the pub today. His dad, who died a year and a half ago, used to take him there but he’s claiming more independence now, which is good.

All the people I’d never have met if not for blogging, who have become real friends. It’s wonderful.