Happy Birthday to Fleur who is now 16. What a lovely card from a friend.
Not such a good night last night, due to T being restless for much of the night. At home he is a sleeping log. Here, last night, he was up and down.
It was more sunny than yesterday, until mid-afternoon.
We had an earlier start today to catch a steam train from Holt to Sheringham. This train was a bit of a squash – in fact, staff said today had been difficult. There were just too many people on it. And many of the people were booked on in groups; and the booking system had not worked. A majority of train passengers, as well as Sheringham pedestrians seemed to be using mobility aids, including walking sticks and poles, rollators, wheelchairs, or just wonky knees. The little seaside town was busy. People were a bit careless with their mobility aids and the if you were carrying an ice cream as well…
We had amazing fish and chips for lunch, followed later in the afternoon, by ice-creams from entirely natural ingredients.
Our return journey was much smoother and some of us travelled first class! Lush individua
Tony was
wheezy and struggling a bit by the time we got back to the station for the return journey. I had loaned his wheelchair to a man in our group, Jwho really should have been advised to organise his own.
They had either not been entirely truthful about his walking capability (nil) on the medical form or they had been badly advised.
Sheringham is a quaint seaside town but it was too busy today. I still enjoyed the day.
We picked up my glass paperweight on the way back. I wondered why my rucksack felt so heavy.
This evening was a wonder. Eventually. It didn’t start off too well. I couldn’t get T organized for the buffet supper and we were last to arrive. ( he was in a spit /cough /blow /spit cycle)
The only two remaining places were, logically, at the end of the table. I ended up sitting by Cathy, who is loopy beyond being bonkers and has a 2x entitlement to the potty club. She makes Oskar seem to have sanity of the highest order. I get embarrassed because I can’t understand what she says or wants to say. I’m pretty certain a lot of it is utter rubbish. She also is a poker and grabber of clothing. Which makes me want to recoil.
Her husband, Chris, however, is our fiddle player and one time high ranking civil servant. And a lovely man. Probable ex hippy.
So the seating left me feeling a bit isolated (as I could hear lots of chat at the other end of the table) with only T and her Pottiness to talk to. Apart from Ron who is great! My efforts at conversation dried up and I dragged T off for a while.
But then we had the most wonderful musical interlude where Chris, the fiddler, fiddled and improvised requests. His speciality is Irish / American fiddle stuff but he also managed a few old tunes. T loved it.
The two other couples are pleasant enough. But the wives are quite preoccupied with their husbands who are both quite wobbly and one used T’s wheelchair.
The staff are good fun and do a brilliant job.
Thought for the Day
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