That was the day that was

I’ve been too busy to blog, I’m sorry to say. I still am. My American not-cousins are staying and we are out and about every day. Yesterday, for example, we went out for lunch, then met Dilly’s parents in Norwich for a guided walk – Peter has lived in the city all his life and knows a lot about it, no one better to show people around – and then to the local theatre for a live-stream of Sleeping Beauty from the Royal Opera House in the evening.

Today, we went to Cromer and then on around the North Norfolk coast road as far as Wells, where I remembered that the artist Alfred Cohen’s house and gallery was nearby. Wink and I went to an illustrated talk about him and his work, some six weeks ago, given by his stepson and I loved his paintings. We found the gallery and met his widow, who was charming and enthusiastic. I was very tempted to buy a painting but just managed to restrain myself and bought a book about him instead, promising to come to an exhibition of his and others’ work in July. After that, we went on to Weeza and spent the evening there. Now 11pm, we’re home again and everyone else has gone to bed.

It’s good to be busy. Yesterday was the 50th anniversary of Russell’s and my marriage and it wasn’t easy. But no one would have known how I felt and I was cheerful. I’d mentioned it to Rhonda and Victoria but to no one else and, as we never made much of our anniversary, the family didn’t think of it. It’s over; let it go.

I expect we’ll have a fairly quiet day tomorrow, but maybe dinner out.

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