Tending my Dad's grave
Tending my Dad's grave

A morning recovering from Debbie’s party the day before, hosting some girl guests in our borrowed tent and serving them breakfast, with young bright Teresa Clough my concern at her health news. Then, feeling very guilty at not having gone earlier, I went to tend my late father’s grave. After taking down and returning the ten to the Youngs, I firstly realised, too late, to attend the Scout’s Kite flying that I was supposed to be judging. 

I then packed and set off for Norfolk, calling in on Mum at Stanton for an hour and then arriving at Horning to find the need for help from Alf and Chris to pull The Paxton Princess off of the mud before getting supplies and settling down aboard.

The girls seemed to manage in their tent last night. I kept our windows closed on that side of the house and restricted them to the garden and pool-room toilet so that they could not run around the house and disturb us in the night. I awoke at 6.00am, stirred by the chill of the breeze from our open bedroom French Windows, and I had to get up and get myself a morning drink. I made a mug of tea and went and sat in the conservatory and fed the fish until I had finished it. The girls had first bite at the breakfast and then they all went swimming again in the pool as Di cooked Daniel and I some fried egg, bacon etc.

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I was overcome with a remorse this morning whilst listening to the religious programmes on the radio as, with everything else I had been doing, I had not got up to Dad's grave at the cemetery for a while. I drove up there before breakfast, imagining the worst, but found it in not too bad a state. By planting bulbs and plants rather than flowers, they do last. There was the new grave of Elsie Smallman up there, covered in flowers, who has been a well known character in the village. I did not know them very well as she was the wife of just about the only active Tory left here that provides opponents with poster sites during election times! Funny thing was that as I drove back down the road from the cemetery, I passed a pick-up truck coming from the other direction and we both gave way. Driving it and waving acknowledgement was somebody who obviously knew me but who, to my eyes, looked just like Dad with his metal-rimmed spectacles. Perhaps the situation was all right after all.

I enjoyed my breakfast even more on my return and then got down to more desk work. Gradually the party girls left or were collected one by one. First Amy Law, who was going with her dad to Boston on his birthday, then Teresa Clough whose Grandmother has had a hip operation and needs visiting. Teresa is a nice little girl with her black hair and blue eyes. I got to know her quite well yesterday as she stayed out of quite a few of the scary rides at Wickstead. Diana told me that she has had an operation to remove a lump from her arm (lymphatic gland) but now it is coming back which is very worrying. I have become quite fond of her and am frightened about the way cancer has become so widespread in our lives. Her father is an international diver and she hardly sees anything of him, and her quiet confidence and thoughtfulness makes me feel that she is not unaware of her problems.

I was back at my desk later on this morning after the girls had gone and then I eventually managed to open my boat file to see what was needed for my trip. I also had to help Di to take down the tent and return it to Helen and Eric Young and, whilst doing so, I spotted the Scouts kite-flying on the playing field and that reminded me that I had promised to go and help judge their efforts. I changed and rushed back, but they were too far advanced. It was a lovely day, sunny but with a breeze, and so ideal for their annual kite-flying. Then I set off for Norfolk having loaded up my things in the Range Rover. Although late, I still managed to drop in on Mum for an hour on the way and chatted about dad for a while. She seemed all right and pleased that Freda's plans were progressing.

Arrived at Heronshaw well into the evening and found Paxton Princess well aground in the boat dock mud as Freda and Alf had warned us. I donned my waders and, with Alf and Chris pulling on the ropes and me pushing the bow from below, we edged it free and moored it at the front, connecting up the power with an extension lead from Heronshaw. I settled into the boat and then went out later for some stores and diesel to the other side of Wroxham where the stores are open all hours.