Sunday lunch by the sea

The Seafront at Frinton

The Bath House pub in Walton-on-the-Naze serves one of the best Sunday lunches we have found. We have the nut roast option, and it is superb with perfectly cooked vegetables to accompany. It is a fair drive to do casually, taking the best part of one and a half hours to cover 48 miles down slow winding Suffolk and Essex country roads, but well worth a visit. We got there early and they were able to 'lend' us a table provided we were out by 2pm, but the place rapidly filled and they ended up turning away several families, so I recommend booking in advance if you want to go there. 

Sadly, we noticed a 'For Sale' sign up outside. Not sure if the current owners are struggling, or just want to retire, but it must have been a difficult couple of years with the Covid restrictions. Whatever, I guess the chef will change with the new owners, or perhaps like so many pubs we pass nowadays, it will become just another bordered up shell. 

Walton is a fine town with its long pier and the famous tower where I walked the dogs. It also has a marina, though it is hidden inland and opens onto the River Twizzle rather than the sea. Later, we drove out through Frinton, a stuck-up little place that thinks too much of itself, but where I walked the dogs a second time. Frinton is a very tidy town, with a neat row of tidy High Street shops, and a pretty green overlooking the sea, but it lacks charm or even mystery. The streets pretend to be American, with "First Avenue", "Second Avenue", etcetera in monotonous straight rows. Strange to compare it with Jaywick, only a few miles further down the coast, which was labelled by a TV documentary as "Benefits on Sea", and is a dilapidated conglomeration of poor housing where one can buy a three story house with a balcony and a garden opening directly onto the beach for a relatively low sum.

Berlin welcomes Ukrainians

The boys are now back from Berlin, and Edwin starts his first day at a new job in Ipswich. He was quite nervous, but Andre kindly drove him all the way and took him for breakfast first to bolster him for the day to come. He sounds to be enjoying it thus far, though, so we wish him all joy and success with it.

Spring is in the air

The first leaves of spring

Touches of spring are around us. The hedgerows are brightening with blossom and the willow, among the first, is cloaked in fine green budding leaves. The garden birds are nesting and Ann even glimpsed an early swallow above the trees. 

Edwin has taken Andre on an away for a surprise weekend in Berlin. He only found out the destination in the boarding queue at Heathrow.

For Herr Putin, the season brings his Spring Offensive. A full blitzkrieg against the defenceless women, children, invalids and  the aged in the cities of Ukraine. 

Yesterday I had a phone call from the offices of IKEA responding to my letter to them. I had recommended they consider the old Debenhams store to bring IKEA into East Anglia. The lady was very courteous and thanked me for my great interest but apologised that they would be unable to ease my evident love for their stores. They need a bigger population than East Anglia can provide and won’t be opening any new stores this year having just dropped plans for one in Sussex. She said I would just have to continue my love of IKEA shopping by travelling to one of their big southern stores. Little does she know me - I haven't been to an IKEA for nearly twenty years, but thought the boys might like a local one now they live in Bury St Edmunds. The grandchildren too enjoy taking Ann to IKEA once a year for a fun day out.

Yesterday, too, I had a call from one of the old companies I used to work for asking if I was available for urgent cover work, as their physician was leaving at short notice. I am available, but they have also placed an advert and requested the help of an agency, so they have a few CVs to consider. 

Just a quiet weekend

A spring day at Gorleston-on-Sea

It is spring, with trees in bud and blossoms bursting out all round. Alas, in our garden, there is a great gap where the fencing man ripped out the heavy ivy that had covered the old fence. Mum's old bird table, where Ann faithfully fills bird seed dispensers each day, used to swarm with small hedge-row birds that nested in the ivy, but have now disappeared and the bird table is deserted. Determined to try to woo them back, we visited a garden centre on Saturday to buy some replacement hedging. I get too breathless to dig now, but we got a friend in the village, keen to earn a little extra, to dig them in: two varieties of ivy, and some New Zealand shrub that is supposed to grow quickly.

Life is certainly much quieter since I am winding down at work. A visit to the pub or a meal out represent the limit of our adventures at present, and we had a fine day out at Gorleston-on-Sea at the weekend, with a good lunch in the Pier Hotel. I cannot walk too far now, even with my stick, but I enjoyed a Sunday afternoon shuffle along the front. Even driving tires me now. Coming back from staying with Ben and Kaz in Wales was exhausting, and I spent most of the next day in bed recovering. 

Ann's sister, Jane, made an unexpected request for me to paint a portrait of her daughter who died so tragically a few years ago. Jane does not use the web much, and I don't think she can have seen many of my pictures, nor does she ask for many favours, so it was a surprise for her to ask for this. I will naturally do my best to oblige her, but Michelle was such a beautiful girl, so full of sparkling life yet with so many hidden depths that it will be hard to do justice to her memory. 

Today is International Women’s day. Nowhere is this more appropriate than in Ukraine, where there are two million more women than men, many of who are learning to fight, lending the Ukrainian resistance to Herr Putin’s invasion a strong female face. Ukrainian First Lady Olena Zelenska, posting on Instagram this week, paid tribute to the women of Ukraine, saying she “admires” and “bows” to her “incredible compatriots”. “To those who heal, save, feed... And those who continue to do their usual jobs – in pharmacies, shops, on transport, in utilities, so that life lasts and wins,” she wrote. “To those who take children to shelters every day without panic and entertain them with games and cartoons to save children’s consciousness from war. To those who give birth in bomb shelters.” 

Death

They do not see the tiredness
the lack of hope,
they do not see the apathy -
the loss of self,
they do not ask
and do not try to seek
the loneliness and finality
of the ice cold grave
and the never ending sleep.

by Annie Elliott

Ukrainian women’s magazines illustrate how drastically life has changed. They now offer advice on how to give birth underground or register a baby in the midst of a war, with instructions to chop off acrylic nails so that you could hold a weapon if you needed to. It's not just active combat – a number of women are working diligently to provide care or supplies for their military, such as this group making camouflage nets and learning how to use a Kalashnikov. This is women’s equality carried to the extreme of war.

World history is unfolding

Herr Putin

With the fall of communism and the ending of the first Cold War, MI6 turned its might towards the new threats coming from the Middle East and the rising power of China. Now, the axis of threat has turned again, and they may be forced, like some Le Carré novel, to bring some of their long-retired Russian experts back into the intelligence fold. Before the invasion of Ukraine, many commentators were dismissing the presence of 100,000 troops massing on its borders as "shaking a stick", and were convinced Herr Putin would never really move in to the kill. The threat from him is now all too real for the west to dismiss. The man shows many traits of the unhinged, driven by isolation and paranoia but with the backing of massive fire power to carry out his wild threats. A dictator in the mould of Hitler and Stalin, he appears to have reduced all around him to quivering, fearful yes men, too frightened to offer any balanced opinion. Such instability in one man is fearful. He must now see the whole Western world as against him (which it is), and will convince himself that his original fears were fully justified. As opposition to his wild behaviour grows, he will feel more and more trapped in the world of his imagination, and will become increasingly convinced that his only solution is to take on this new challenge. The suggestion that some brave person will be come forward to lead others within the Kremlin to restrict Herr Putin's capacity to issue military orders is, I suggest, fanciful. There is support for Putin among many of the Russian populace, and history suggests that dictators who control the whole body politic (think Stalin and Hitler) do not get removed by internal revolt. I fear his reaction may be to trigger a pre-emptive strike somewhere in Europe, and we may be led ineluctably into more than a Cold War.

Decisions

Soon, for the first time,

it will be my choice

and I will decide whether

to come or to go

or flee or stay,

or even walk away,

but for once

it will be up to me

and I will know...

by Annie Elliott

On a more relaxed note, we visited the boys' new home again yesterday to do some more "odd jobs". I repaired the gate after its damage from the storms and hung another hook in their bedroom. Meanwhile, Ann and Andre sewed heavy curtains that the boys had bought that look good but were too long. Later, in a lovely thank you gesture, they took us to Bury's only Michelin star restaurant, the Pea Porridge, for a very enjoyable evening.

Loss of Ukraine and a new fence

I visited Ukraine four years ago, when Edwin persuaded me to go with him to see the Eurovision Song Contest in Kyiv in 2017. We had a wonderful visit, staying in a fine hotel in the city centre and seeing a few of the sights, such as the home of Mikhail Bulgakov, author of The Master and Margarita. We went to a grand opera house for an opera by Rimsky-Korsakov called The Tale of Tsar Saltan, which contains the famous Flight of the Bumblebee. This was an afternoon performance in Russian, and attended by a number of school children who seemed to really enjoy the performance. We also went to a nightclub, enjoying a number of drinks, bursting at the seams with lively young people, but they took pity on me and offered me a seat. There were even trips to Chernobyl available, travelling to the site by ex-army vehicles, which would have been a good experience, but we lacked sufficient time for the excursion. The Ukrainians we me were without exception warm, lively, modern and welcoming, and it was a joy to visit their country. 

I continue working for a pharmaceutical company until the end of the month. We are in process of preparing for a clinical trial, due to start soon, and for which we will need to recruit patients willing to volunteer for said trial. Beside the UK, we had planned to recruit in two countries in Eastern Europe: Ukraine and Moldova. Suddenly, the consequences of war and invasion by Russia against a peaceful European country are rammed home as we have been forced to drop both countries from our recruitment strategy, as the walls of Europe are forcibly wrenched down by a brutal tyrant.

The new fence, before and after

The fence facing our rear window has been covered with a dense coat of ivy since we moved in twenty years ago. I occasionally cropped it with the hedge trimmers, like any hedging, but generally it was a solid green wall with birds popping in and out all day, and it caused us no trouble. Our neighbour has recently had two new fences put up. A few weeks ago, in an unusual move, she invited us round for coffee and happened to mention that her third fence, which is our border and our responsibility, was only held up by the ivy, and wobbled in the wind. She was concerned that it might fall down, and when I looked I agreed all the posts had rotted so we said we'd get it seen to, so yesterday, the men came round and replaced it . Ann loves her birds (along with her love of trees), so we did ask if they could preserve some of the ivy to allow it to grow again. Unfortunately, when they came to remove the old fence, all the roots of the ivy were actually on the neighbour's side, and came up in a big clump as they cleared the ground. So now we have to look out on a stark bright fence with no birds or greenery, rather than our beautiful shady green screen. We will have to visit a garden centre to buy some screening hedging and encourage it to grow.

The boys are in their new home

The boys enjoy Ann's stew

I am bad at taking selfies. I invariably cut someone off at the neck, or include my fingers, or manage to include myself as a giant with everyone else shrunk to tiny extras in the background. So, when we ended up inadvertently at the boys' house yesterday for a first visit since they moved in, I opted for a simple tableau with myself excluded. It's much simpler, and more certain of success.

How did we end up at the boys' house? They only moved in a week or so ago, but with both working long hours and unable to take time off for the move, they have had to squeeze in arranging the furniture and unpacking their many boxes as best they could in the few hours available. Andre had borrowed my drill to put up a coat hanger, but yesterday afternoon I got an 'advice' call asking what to do next, as the drill bit would only penetrate for half an inch before hitting a literal brick wall. I said perhaps I had better come over to look at it, to which they readily agreed. Ann had spent the morning slow cooking a vegetable stew, all prepared with fresh ingredients peeled and scrubbed by her own fair hand, so she suggested bringing that over as well. Again there was no hesitation in getting their agreement, to which they suggested bringing a bottle of milk and Ann added a dessert. 

For the next hour, they worked like crazy to make the house presentable, throwing boxes in their cars and generally cleaning and tidying. It was worth it. We had a lovely evening in a spotless house, everything in its place, and beautifully arranged. It is a very old house, of flint and brick, and facing one of the original town walls of Bury St Edmunds. Indeed, the roads here are called Westgate and Southgate Street, from the days when there were real town gates, and Bury also still has its Northgate and Eastgate Streets. The house walls are so thick, they form a snug window seat where Edwin likes to perch, and the house is silent, despite two main roads and the roundabout close by. The dinner, with side dishes prepared by Andre whilst I put up the coat hanger, was wonderful. Now they want us round tomorrow for a couple more jobs: to mend their gate which broke in the gales, and to put up a hook in the bedroom. Now my pharmaceutical work is finishing, I may be able to branch out as an odd-job-man.

Another immunotherapy session completes

 Some are more suited to be butchers than nurses. Such a one came to set up my drip for a third session of treatment. He waddled towards me, mildly obese, unshaven, pimply and in a vaguely white coat rather than the smart grey monogrammed tunics the lady nurses are wearing. I never learnt his name. His name badge was upside down and obscured by his translucent apron and he neither introduced himself nor asked how I was, but grabbed my wrist and attempted to shove a cannula into it. The attempt failed. He moved further up the arm preparing to attempt a second thrust when a kind, more senior nurse stepped in and commanded “go for your break now. I’ll take over”. He slouched off and she asked my name and fixed the hospital band too my wrist which he had neglected to do. 

I breathed a sigh of relief, and could finally enjoy relaxing with the cup of sweet coffee she brought me. I am now a quarter way through the year's treatment plan, so hopefully the fire is well and truely lit to burn the little malignant blighters in their hidden lairs.

At home, the boys are finally beginning to sort their house out, and may move in this weekend. There are still two suitcases in the hall, though, out of which they have been living all week. Edwin has now got a third job lined up which he starts next month, at the University of Suffolk in Ipswich. He seems to work long hours, leaving at 07:30 some mornings, and not returning till after 9:00 pm. Driving from Bury to Norwich, Ipswich and occasionally Cambridge if you has to give on site lectures must be so tiring. Andre too seems to work long hours, though mostly on-line. They have just had no time to get their house in order, and neither could take a week off. 

Mr and Mrs Llama

Tomorrow is our 29th wedding anniversary. The boys didn't manage to get to their own house after all today, finding the delights of Cambridge hard to shake off, so they have returned here for the night, but with a gift: a Mr and Mrs Llama bride and groom to celebrate our own special day. Thank's boys! 

Ben and Kaz are back home from Wales. We had such a lovely break with them, and look forward to repeating it in the near future. Ben regrets that he could not walk up Snowdon with me when he was young, as he has done with Luke. But we did walk up mountains in Scotland, when he was very young. With Edwin, although he had many years with us and we went on many trips, none were walking or climbing holidays: I was too old then for such athletic activity. As parents, we all make so many mistakes; we can only try our best with the limited time and knowledge (and often limited money too). We all have the childhood memories we are given, and remember them fondly if they were good memories, but we all have such different memories. That is one of the many things that makes us unique. Certainly, I have some wonderful photos and memories of  all the children when they were young, and I hope they have some good memories too.