The three winter months were busy but not really news worthy. I spent a lot of time teaching or preaching - a home group at Barton Mills, ladies meetings, prayer meetings, several Christmas services at Brockley and the funeral of Frank Arbon. My father married Frank and Bunty fifty years ago. I have to say that the family were extremely appreciative of my efforts. Frank and Bunty's daughter, Linda, was in one of my forms at the County Upper School and I was pleased to see her again even though the circumstances were sad. I also spent many, many hours studying and writing a series of expositions on 1 Corinthians for my website. I did not find some of the topics easy. I cannot say I enjoyed writing about prostitution, sex in marriage, incest, food sacrificed to idols, women's role in the church or the prohibition on men wearing their hair long and women wearing it short.

One of the most exciting incidents occurred in December when I was umpiring a hockey match between Bury Veterans and Harleston at Harleston. The Harleston left back, nicknamed Psycho by his mates, responded to persistent niggling from Jason on Bury's right wing by simulating a head butt. Jason's reaction was instant and violent. He threw a flurry of vicious right hooks and it was not long before two middle aged men were rolling on the ground like a couple of wildcats trying to knock hells bells out of each other. To say that I was fed up is an understatement.

I had a very pleasant Christmas day with my brother Philip and his family. However, I am always glad when the festive season is over. On the last Friday of 2006 Tommy Bamber, of whom sadly there is nothing very scurrilous for me to write this year, and I went looking for brambling in the forests of Wordwell, West Stow and Santon Downham. Tommy was on the point of giving up and heading for steaming mugs of hot chocolate when we stumbled across a huge flock of over 100 along the Little Ouse. So we were able to end our year with another small triumph.

On January 1st I spent the day with John and Janet Eley. When John phoned to invite me I said, "Well if I come early we shall have to go out for a walk along the Deben at Woodbridge." This bright suggestion was greeted by a non-committal grunt from my old friend. I wasn't sure whether a walk was on or off but fortunately I took my boots because when I arrived John and Janet were both togged up for a trek in the country. It took some time for John's limp to wear off and his camera wouldn't work but I think even he enjoyed our stroll along the Deben estuary. It was a sparkling day. The light was scintillating. It seemed as if the whole of Woodbridge had turned out for a walk. There were hundreds of people strung out along the flood-bank. We had wonderful views of numerous waders, duck and geese.

In January I reached one of those milestones I cannot say that I have been looking forward to. I became an old age pensioner. The only consolation is that I am substantially better off. I have decided not to save any more money but to either spend it or give it away. I started by spending some - on a new TV and vacuum cleaner. I had my old ones for about 30 years! The TV is a huge improvement but I do not like my bag-less Hoover and it has already gone wrong! I think my best buy of the year was a new non-stick frying pan. What a joy it is to use. Frying eggs has become a pleasure. I can flick an omelette onto a plate and toss a pancake with the nonchalance of an expert.

What a wonderful spring we all enjoyed. My work rate declined and I spent a lot more time out and about. Tommy Bamber and I had some wonderful days bird watching. On April 13th I had a rare treat because hopping about on the cliff top at Covehithe was a ring ousel - a blackbird with a white bib. We had excellent views of it - the first I had seen. Later in the day at Minsmere I saw a cetti's warbler chasing a wren. The other highlight of the spring was to watch the crane's flying over the Lakenheath reed beds on a fine May day. Cranes in flight are a magnificent sight - as too were the numerous hobbies hawking for insects in the same area. On a sunny afternoon in March I was wandering round the Lackford Lakes when I bumped into a former pupil, Sheila Adams (nee Bonnett). She surprised her daughter by giving a funny little man in a trilby a big hug. Sheila has by now emigrated to Canada and it makes me sad to think that I will never see her again.

I have continued my bimonthly walks with Marion and John Skull. We had a lovely morning walk in the Aldeburgh area. I think lunch is always the best part of the occasion for John! It was particularly pleasant sitting on a bench overlooking the sea at Aldeburgh eating our freshly cooked fish and chips. The light was typically spring-like and newly washed. The North Sea was calm and almost blue! There were very few people about. The peace was only shattered by the strident cries of the herring and black-headed gulls.

Spring was a time of whimsy. One night after travelling home from the prayer meeting with a full moon shining my friend, Dorothy, said, "You know John, the moon followed us all the way from Brockley to Bury." I don't think the date, April 1st, unduly influenced her opinion. One evening while visiting Dorothy and Edward I admired a new tray on the patio Edward had made to feed the birds. As we looked out of the window a mouse suddenly scuttled across the patio picked up a peanut from the tray and shot off. It came again ….. and again. Its third visit was too much for Dorothy. She shot out of the house - almost as quick as the mouse, picked up the tray and put it in the garage. Out came the mouse once more. It was totally bamboozled by lack of the tray! Round it went in circles, then, darted in all directions before finally heading for the garage! A bit more whimsy: in May I went to Stanton garden centre to buy some annuals. I waited in the queue just ahead of a young woman whose three-year-old son was sound asleep in the middle of her trolley. Flowers purchased by his mother surrounded him. I pointed to the sleeping child and asked the woman if I could purchase one like him. She replied, "Sorry, none left, I got the last one."

Sometimes we are tempted to the think the old days were best. Dorothy Boreham, aged 97, told me on one of my visits that she could remember eating rabbit's head stew as a young girl. She and her two sisters always looked anxiously through their helping to find the tongue.

The cricket season started with the usual chores. Our young club captain of an academic bent was given the job of pulling out nails in the floor of our veranda. Uncle Derek - a man of more practical experience - checked his work. It is amazing the pleasure Derek got from finding the nails his nephew missed. "Here's another one Stu - that makes 9. Hell - and another - that's 10. And another Stu - that's 11."

One Sunday morning our visiting preacher, Bob Cotton, got confused over the hymn numbers. After a bit of a kafuffle someone shouted out, "Wake up." I couldn't believe my ears. Was one of the usually docile Brockley congregation being rude. It was the preacher's wife!!

On the 2nd of June I travelled to Horsford near Milton Keynes to celebrate my Aunty Muriel's 90th birthday. I do not like driving, but I am glad that I went. I was very pleased to meet my cousin Bernard's and my cousin Elizabeth's family. I was very impressed by Muriel's very attractive 12 great grandchildren. What pleasure my uncle Stephen would have taken in them. It was good to chat with Muriel and her brother Bernard about the past at Salem, Richmond - when my mother was a sweet young thing. It is not often I can do this! It was a beautiful day and it was the greatest pleasure to relax in the garden with good company and delicious food.

I had what will probably be my last full season playing cricket on a Saturday for Brockley Second Eleven. There were aspects of it I still enjoyed. It is life enhancing to be part of a team. I liked being in an attractive setting on a lovely summer's day. The attitude of the youngsters was good and it was encouraging to observe the progress they made. I was glad to have another season playing with my brother - after all the ups and downs of the last 40 plus years. However, there was a downside! I rarely went in high enough to build an innings. I didn't keep wicket for most of the season but fielded in the deep where I am more of a hindrance than help. When I go out to bat the youngsters give me advice! If I manage to hit one they ask gently if I am up to running a single!! Sadly, too, I resigned as secretary during the season. I strongly believed that the club should have disciplined a player in the first team for intimidating behaviour according to league guidelines. However, to my surprise, I was not supported by other club officials and to my annoyance was left out on a limb. Whenever I act on principle I am amazed by how few stand with me!

I had an enjoyable holiday camping in Dorset in spite of the weather. My most exhilarating walk was from St Aldhem's Head to the Dancing Ledges along the top of the Jurassic Limestone cliffs. There was a wonderful display of lime loving wildflowers and a small puffin colony on the Dancing Ledges. July 3rd was a very eventful day. In the morning I walked along the tidal river Frome at Wareham. At the midpoint of my walk I met a very friendly couple going in the opposite direction. The man asked me what it was like a head. "A bit tedious," I replied, "the river seems to go on for ever and the tall reeds prevent you seeing much. I reckon I've done the worst bit." "I don't know," said the man, "we've found it very boggy underfoot." I groaned! Now my informant was a very substantial gentleman, comfortably built, with a rich voice and beaming countenance. He said, "There's a lot to be thankful for - the sun is shining and its not going to rain till four o'clock." It certainly rained at four o'clock - one thunderstorm after another building up in intensity until a ferocious, horrendous storm hit the campsite. I cowered in my tent covered with newspaper as a fine spray of water drops and ice crystals penetrated the canvas. When everything quietened down and people emerged to inspect the scene the lower part of the campsite was under water and hail was piled up around the tents.

One afternoon when I was visiting Mrs Dorothy Boreham in hospital she introduced me to some other old ladies in the ward. One of them said, "The person I most look forward to meeting in heaven is my old headmistress." That pleased me! I was amused by one of Peter Webb's tales. He had taken possession of an allotment gone to grass and dug it over. A knobbly, gnarly, old boy who lived in a nearby council house, paid close attention to his every effort. Eventually the old boy said to Peter, "What yar want is a load of muck on that bit o' land." Peter Webb bought a wagonload of muck for £1. The next time the knobbly old man came on the scene he said, "I see ya got a load of muck." He paused. "Ya know what ya want?" He paused again. "Another wagon load of muck." When I was a boy there were village people just like that - generous with advice but never a word of encouragement.

In September I made my annual pilgrimage to London to visit my brother, Peter. I had a very enjoyable day. We had our usual walk along the Thames where I was especially pleased to see large clumps of yellow chamomile growing - something that I had not come across before. On my way home I got into a crowded tube train where a very pretty young woman got up and offered me her seat. This was a real blow to my morale! I must look old and decrepit for a young woman to offer me her seat. Worse was to come a few weeks later when I was visiting a 97-year-old lady in hospital and the doctor came in and asked if I was her husband. It was not a remark I let the doctor get away with.

In the middle of September I spent a few days with my brother, Paul, and his wife in Hastings. The day I arrived was one of mixed experiences. I parked for the first (and last!) time in a multi-story car park. It took me ages to return to my car! Then I discovered I had not made a note of Paul and Ruth's house number. Fortunately Paul was looking out of the window as I wandered up the street. In the evening I visited my nephew Michael and his family. The two youngest girls were squealing with pleasure in the bath. It is a long time since I squealed with pleasure in the bath! Later I read them a good night story. Paul and I spent three days walking and bird watching. East Sussex is a very attractive region with its woods and meadows, hop fields and orchards.

To revert to baths for a minute! One evening I phoned Anne Boreham up. Her husband KB answered the phone. I said I would like to speak to the wife. "She's in the bath JR. Just a minute I'll take her the phone. It's JR Anne. Kuh JR - you'd hully like to have one of they phones that transmits pictures." This tickled all three of us!

In October I went by coach from Bury St Edmunds to the Grace Baptist Mission Meetings in London. When I got on the Soames coach I growled a good morning to the bus driver. Just as I was about to sit down near the back a voice came over the intercom, "Don't you remember me, Mr Reed. You used to take the Mickey out of me at school." I sat down and began to compile a list of boys at Debenham High School who I might have teased a little - Wriggly Revett, Baby Cattermole, Nosey Parker, Lewis Rush - and, of course, the skinny, knock-kneed Scotsman, Barry Duff. When I alighted from the coach at our comfort stop there was Barry Duff waiting for me at the door. We were both happy to see each other again! I never imagined Barry would handle a large bus with such expertise when he was a rather uncoordinated youth at school.

Some people change but others don't! In late autumn I was driving down a track across Cavenham Heath when I saw an old colleague, Tom Johns, and his dog. When I stopped and made to open the door his first comment was, "If you get out my dog will bite you." It was a remarkably amiable dog - patient and well behaved. It neither nuzzled my groin nor salivated over my trousers. If I had to choose between Tom Johns and his dog the dog would win every time.

I have read a lot this year. I read all Donna Leon's crime novels set in Venice. I was very sad when I finished the last one! They were excellent. I have read biographies, travel books and lately some about Science - particularly evolution and intelligent design. I was out bird watching recently with my friend Tommy Bamber, prowling round the lake at Livermere, when I pointed out a magnificent spider's web festooned with dew. I said to Tommy, "It is hard to understand how evolution can be entirely responsible for that." Tommy retorted, "If you were a fly you wouldn't thank God for spider's webs." Such differences of opinion exist between the proponents of intelligent design and evolution. Why can't both be right?

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