The definition of boredom is cleaning out the bathroom extractor fan with an old toothbrush. Let’s face it, there’s only so much knick-knack dusting a boy can do when home alone. But I’m not yet ready for a meagre diet of daytime TV for the sofa-bound brain-dead – all idle chit-chat from nobodies about nothing. I know it’s only a matter of time before I too become glued to the box with a milky cuppa and a gingernut.
So I went for a walk. We’re fortunate to live close to water, not too close to worry about flooding – not yet anyway – but close enough for a rejuvenating stroll along the River Chet. The cottage is on the Wherryman’s Way, a series of long-distance paths linking Norwich with Great Yarmouth on the coast. The route is named after the north folk who worked the Norfolk wherries, small sailing barges that used to ply their trade along the waterways hereabouts ferrying people and cargo. All gone now of course, replaced by leisure boats for landlubbers.
June is a good time of year for old Ma Nature. She puts on her best show in exuberant emerald before, come August, she gets a bit frazzled and floppy.
On my walk I passed a small herd of grazing cattle. The white-faced bovine at the centre of the image above stared directly at me. I’ve seen that face before; I knew what she was thinking – come on then, if you think you’re hard enough. Memories of my last encounter with a white-faced alpha cow came flooding back. She was back and ready for another pop at me. Praise the Lord for the watery ditch between us.
Liam’s back tomorrow to save me from terminal tedium and mad cows.
Liam is away visiting an old friend from his wayward early years as a young gay about town. They worked and played together when Liam did a proper job with a pension attached. It’s the first time I’ve been home alone since we moved to the village over three years ago. Liam left to catch an early train and I fell out of my pit to an empty house, silent apart from the morning squawk of the horny birds outside. It felt odd and a little unsettling. But, as I went about my domestic chores, I kept finding post-it notes hidden here and there. Here’s a sample…
I did as I was instructed and jumped on the bus to our local garden centre. It was a warm and sunny day and the place was packed with people taking tea and talking shrubs. I cannot lie, I felt out of sorts. As I went to pay for my trolley-load of horticultural supplies, I opened my wallet to find this…
If you’d said a few years back that one day I’d be in a small provincial theatre watching a bunch of kids bounce about in a Lloyd Webber musical with a book by Julian Fellowes (he of Downton Abbey fame), I’d have laughed you off the stage. “Not my thang,” I would have said. “Give me Superstar and maybe Coat of Many Colours, but his other stuff? Nah, not for me.”
But there I was last night settling down to watch Echo Youth Theatre’s performance of School of Rock at the Maddermarket Theatre, along with rows of nervously proud friends and family, a buzz in the air. And I can report that Lloyd Webber’s eclectic, guitar-heavy score is a revelation. Andy’s back to his rock roots, and as the opening number blasted to the back of the auditorium, we all knew we were in for a foot thumping night.
And the talent on the stage last night was astounding. But then, that’s something I’ve come to expect from Echo Youth. It’s an ensemble piece and it would be unfair to single anyone out, apart from Chris Davidson in Jack Black mode. Oh, and Rory Peck, our favourite shake, rattle and roller. Suffice to say, the energetic and gifted cast produced a joyous and uplifting account of Lloyd Webber’s hit, and the standing ovation at the end was instant and richly deserved.
If you’re anywhere near Norwich, grab yourself a ticket for this rocking show and get yourself down to the Maddermarket (it runs until Sunday). And if you don’t come out humming Stick It to the Man, I’m the Queen of Sheba.
We binned the car in 2014 so, unsurprisingly, good public transport is important to us. That’s why we chose a village close to Norwich with a decent bus service – regular and reliable. And Norwich has fast and frequent train services to London for our big city fixes and family stuff. All in all, it works well most of the time. But when the wheels come off, they come off in spectacular style.
Our most recent jolly was a trip to The Old Smoke for a family affair – lunch and a stopover in London’s Spitalfields district.
But then…
… a water main burst, blocking the main road to Norwich. Buses were on divert. That’s ok, we thought, we’ll just give ourselves extra time. After a grand tour of the pretty hamlets of the county, we made our train – just.
And then…
… some poor soul was killed on the tracks just outside London. All trains on the line ground to a halt while emergency services attended the scene. That’s ok, we thought, we’ll just be a bit late. No big deal when compared to the loss of a life.
We were late, but not too late and the lunch went ahead without further ado. Afterwards, we checked into our trendy digs for the night and happened upon a traditional East End boozer to finish off our jolly with a flourish. We were safely tucked up in our comfy bed by drinking up time.
And then…
… we awoke fuzzy-headed to find the water was off the menu – for us, for everyone. You can imagine the commotion in reception. That’s ok, we thought. We had just enough of a trickle for a whore’s wipe, and we’ll get a refund too.
At least our train back to Norwich left on time.
And then…
… a vehicle damaged a level crossing. All trains on the line ground to a halt while emergency services attended the scene. That’s ok, we thought, we’re not in any rush.
We were late, but not too late. Back in Norfolk, the burst water main was still bursting water and buses were still on divert to a hit-and-miss schedule. We waited patiently at Norwich Bus Station. We even had time for a coffee and a custard cream. The bus eventually arrived and we started another grand tour of the pretty hamlets of the county.
And then…
… as we approached a roundabout, the bus ground to a halt. We saw a plume of nasty black smoke in the distance and spotted a vehicle on fire at the roundabout. We were held in a queue while emergency services attended the scene. This is not so ok, we thought.
Our driver finally received orders from Mission Control. “Turn back and we’ll find you a different route.” U-turning a double-decker bus on a minor country road with nose-to-nipple traffic is no mean feat but our valiant driver managed it, ably assisted by a couple of gung-ho passengers. Back on the road, we went on another grand tour of the pretty hamlets of the county. Brooke is particularly pretty. I should know; we drove through it twice. Mission Control then sent us down a pretty country lane and pretty country lanes aren’t really designed for double-deckers.
And then…
… a double-decker approached us from the opposite direction. “That’s ok,” our driver said. “I’ll just reverse into a side road – simples!” And that’s what he did. The oncoming bus passed without further ado. Off we went to the next pretty village along the pretty lane.
And then…
… the lane narrowed and a second double-decker approached us from the opposite direction. With cars backing up, we had nowhere to go except forwards. Our driver attempted inching past the other bus. And it almost worked. But, with a loud metallic bang, bus scraped bus and the window next to us shattered, spraying us with shards of safety glass. We leapt from our seats. The game was up. We were on the road to nowhere.
After mooching around for a while waiting for something to happen, I said, “Sod this for a game of soldiers, let’s walk.”
Home was about three miles along the pretty lane.
And then…
… it started to rain. “That’s not ok,” I said.
After about a mile, a passing car stopped ahead. Hallelujah, it was someone we know. A knight in shining armour. We were saved. Also saved were a couple of other strays from the bus crunch. Thank you, Sir Galahad. You know who you are.
So then…
… we went straight to the pub.
With thanks to members of the Loddon Eye Faceache group for the burning car and bus crunch images.
Perking the Pansies 