I went to Sudbury today, to see Gainsborough’s house and art gallery. It was a very good day, we all enjoyed it. I am absolutely tired out now though and I want to go to bed – it’s not even 7.30, so I’ll regret it if I do – which may not stop me. I really can hardly stay upright.
Tim and I had a few days in Lavenham, a month or so after we got married. We didn’t have time for a honeymoon until then, so this had to suffice – the Great House was absolutely lovely and we’d meant to go back, but lockdown intervened and so on… We drove to Sudbury one day and wanted to park and go to the house, but it was hopeless. I couldn’t walk far as I was in need of a hip replacement (I phoned to arrange it as soon as I got back) and we followed the signs for the town car park, until there wasn’t a sign and there wasn’t a car park. We did several sweeps of the town and went over a lot of speed bumps and never did find a car park, so we gave up and went to Long Melford instead.
Everything I do reminds me of Tim or of Russell and, I tell you, it gets no easier. However much I put my best foot forward, it still sucks.