I spent today in Ely. If you don’t know it, it’s not far from Cambridge, in the fens; that is, marshland; although a good deal of drainage has taken place, Ely is still, technically, an inland island. It’s famous for its cathedral, which is impressive without and lovely within, and also contains a museum of stained glass which is brilliant. We had a guided visit and it was so interesting. The cathedral tour was ably led by a lady in her 60s, I suppose, who was quite portly but had slender and shapely ankles and calves (look, these things matter) and the museum tour was taken by a young academic called Rosie, who was very knowledgeable and answered all our questions.
I arrived home at 10 to 7, just in time to belt down to the church to join in the preparations for the wedding on Saturday. They are so happy and in love, does my old heart good to see them. They’ve invited me to the wedding reception – I hope my posh frock fits; it might be a bit big, I’m looking forward so much to the wedding that I’m forgetting to be terrified, which is not wise. I’ll practice assiduously all tomorrow morning and be note perfect. We’ve established the length of the voluntary that will greet the bride – it needed to last about 30 seconds, but not sound as if it was cut short. I’ve abbreviated and then cut out a chunk and gone to the coda…if I knew how to record on to the computer without larking about on YouTube, I’d give you a tinkle, but I don’t.
Anyhoo, the family are, apparently, much better, but have cancelled this weekend’s trip to London, for fear of passing on germs to Weeza – she can do without a stomach bug at 7 months pregnant. I am keeping up my alcohol consumption, which I (and the Boy) reckon to be the best protection against bugs. Not having eaten much for a few days, my system has ground to an entire halt, which is not to suggest that the squits would be in any way welcome.