another garden

I made it to this morning's garden with plenty of time to spare, as the A12 had decided to behave wonderfully, and I didn't get lost.  It was a very nice garden, and they were very charming people, and that's all I want to say about it.  I shall sit down after breakfast tomorrow to write my piece, and I don't want to go over the memories before then and smudge them.

I took pages and pages of notes, not trusting entirely to memory.  One of the most useful things I was taught doing O level Geography was to always take a pencil to write with on field trips.  They continue to work in the rain, and don't run.  It did not rain so much as I thought it was going to, or as much as it has at home.  The weather system is moving eastwards, and I must have nipped in almost ahead of it.

As I was early for the appointment, I had a look at the local church, which was sweet and old, Grade I listed, and unlocked, to my great pleasure.  It has suffered from various travails over the centuries, from the Puritan iconoclasts to a lightning strike that destroyed the top part of the tower, and the great storm of 1987 which blew off one entire end of the building.  It had the air of a building that was greatly loved and valued, though I couldn't work out how anybody was supposed to be married or buried there nowadays, because there seemed to be absolutely nowhere to park.  I tucked my car on to the verge on a broadish piece of the main thoroughfare, which was still very rural and not very wide, having rejected the other lanes around the churchyard as simply too narrow, and was mildly relieved when I got back to the car and didn't find anybody complaining about it.

It is all go today, since I'm off out again shortly for a music society committee meeting, and in the evening my father and I are going to the Colchester Arts Centre to hear a fine pair of traditional musicians, Nancy Kerr and James Fagan.  She is a second generation English folk musician, who sings and plays the fiddle, while he is Australian, sings and plays the bouzouki.  It should be good.  I will tell you tomorrow if it is, as you will have the chance of a second bite of the cherry, because they are playing in Harwich next week at The Electric Palace, which has found a sideline as a folk venue.

It was rather a waste that everything ended up happening on the same day, or at least that the committee meeting did, otherwise I could have stopped to look at one or two nurseries on the way back, or gone to see my father's cousin in Aldeburgh.  Oh well, another time.  I am not sure I am a great deal of use on the committee, but do at least take reasonably competent minutes.  Writing those up will be my second task tomorrow, after I've done the first draft of the garden visit.