With Christmas fast approaching I bumped into my old doctor – Dr Green – in Waitrose. The previous year I had seen him at about the same time and he had said: “I am 88 and I have written my very last Christmas card.” He spoke with some feeling! So I asked him if he had written any cards. “Fifty,” he said. I reminded him of last year’s resolution. Dr Green smiled and said, “Well I suppose I succumbed to grace.” I thought this a very appropriate sentiment for Christmas. I spent the rest of the day with Philip and family. The food was excellent as usual and my nephews and nieces not, for once, recovering from hangovers. Philip enjoyed himself playing ‘pass the penny’ as it gave him the opportunity to molest his son’s thighs and make them squeal. I thought about tickling my niece’s knees but decided against it. They are aggressive girls and tend to hit first and ask questions afterwards.

On January 1st I spent a nice day with my friends John and Janet Eley. We had a walk along the Deben estuary at Woodbridge where Janet and I took a lot of pleasure distinguishing between a little and black necked grebe. Sadly, John was preoccupied with the state of his bladder and had hurried off. In the evening John told me what his idea of bliss was – reclining upon his wife’s bosom while she blow dried his hair. I hardly think this is something a good Grace Baptist should admit to.

Tommy Bamber and I kept up our surveys for the British Orthinological Trust. It was a bonus to be invited into the home of Margaret and Robert Morley while we were doing the Brockley birds. Margaret wouldn’t divulge any scandalous titbits of village news for fear of them appearing in my annual review. I have a good mind to invent something to confirm her worst fears. Another area we surveyed was the coniferous forest north of Bury St Edmunds near North Stow. Imagine our delight when we stumbled upon a Great Grey Shrike in a forest clearing.

I have enjoyed through the years old Mrs Dorothy Boreham’s stories. In February she went back all of 90 years to tell me about Mrs Kemp the Whepstead blacksmith’s wife. She used to visit Dorothy’s 13 year old sister who was dying of consumption. Mrs Kemp invariably asked the sick girl if there was anything she fancied and generally managed to come up with it even though she had children of her own to support. Dorothy reckoned she was very kind and a true Christian. Dorothy’s memory illustrates the enduring impact of kindness. Love abides when all else has passed away.

Mr Eric Boreham, who attends our chapel, had epileptic fits as a young man. He said that whenever he had a fit in a stall full of cattle they would go to the far end and leave him alone.

Spring can be a time of numerous little treats. I was delighted to see two bullfinches and a red-legged partridge in my garden. On Good Friday the customary chores at Brockley Cricket Club’s ground were almost made worthwhile by the frothy splendour of the black thorn bushes in full blossom along the river. In May I walked over Hardwick Heath in Bury St Edmunds and you could smell the spring. Later in the month on the way home from church I saw a huge, bright, perfectly complete, double rainbow. A magnificent sight! So, too, was the sight of six black and six common terns twisting and turning over the lake at Lackford Reserve.

We had an excellent Good Friday Service at the chapel. The participation of the Bury Male Voice Choir and Pastor Richard Underwood meant for once our chapel was full. We served an excellent tea – reminiscent of days past – and everyone chipped in to help. It was a happy event and cheered our hearts.

During the Spring I changed my computer and went on to broad band. I found this all very stressful. I paid PC World nearly £100 to set everything up but in the event the engineer failed to do so – because my telephone connection was faulty – not that he twigged that!! So I was left, with the help of Mr Ron Moody from our church, to do everything myself. One way or another it took me ages to get it all sorted out. I am still changing the email addresses on my website!

I was pleased to be invited to Ros Barton’s retirement party. I taught with Ros at the County Upper School many years ago. I spent a lot of time reminiscing with the old lags – Dick Golding, Dave Bailey and Tim Myhill. It enabled me – for a short time – to recapture something of the warm camaraderie that existed at C.U.S. – something I never really experienced at Debenham High School

Ros Arnall – who I taught with at Debenham – made me laugh when she phoned to arrange a tea party. She and a friend attempted to sneak out of church one morning after the vicar had invited people to stop behind and join her for a time of meditation. I can just imagine Ros muttering to her friend about being well able to do without a time of meditation! Anyway, Ros was unlucky – and I can’t help feeling rather pleased at her bad luck - because the vicar noticed her scurrying away and cried out, “Could ye not watch with me one hour.” After a momentary pause Ros and her friend made good their escape. We Baptists would say it was a clear cut case of sinning against the light.

When I was a boy our neighbour was Mr John Clarkson who had a small farm down the lane so I was pleased to hear this memory of Mr Peter Webb from his short time living in Stanstead. Mr Clarkson kept a few cows in the village. One day he called the vet in to look at one that was poorly. While the vet was there the cow collapsed. The vet pumped a leg against the cow’s chest and got its heart going again. He told John Clarkson to keep up the good work while he went to get his syringe. Peter Webb said, “John Clarkson, wholly pumped the cow’s leg. He worked up a tidy ol’ sweat that morning.”

I greatly enjoyed the gentle humour, colour and warmth of the adaption for TV of Alexander McCall Smith’s Nos1 Ladies Detective Agency – a small pleasure to add to spring’s delights.

I decided to try and play one last season of cricket. All went well till the beginning of August. I had some very enjoyable games for the Brockley Second Team under the captaincy of my brother, Philip. The team performed well as the younger players matured and improved. I didn’t disgrace myself behind the wickets defying the years to make one or two good catches and the odd stumping. However, on August 1st I allowed myself to be cajoled into playing for the first team against Witham after walking in the Castle Hedingham area with John and Marion Skull on July 30th. This proved too much for my left leg. A nerve in the calf muscle went into spasm. I had the same thing last season – a warning. But this time it was much worse and I haven’t been able to shake it off. Four months later I still get spasms of pain if I walk briskly for longer than 20 minutes. It put an end to my cricket and has put an end to my walking, too, for the time being. The Bury Free Press captured my final appearance with a photograph of an old chap crouching behind the wicket – all arse and trilby. The members of Brockley Cricket Club marked my long overdue retirement by presenting me with a picture of the ground painted by my lovely niece, Beccy. I hope it was a labour of love! Needless to say I am very sad that my cricketing days are over particularly as I am very bad at starting something new.

Perhaps that is why I still keep camping! But I did enjoy the nine days I spent at North Norfolk. The weather was good and everywhere retained that early June freshness. I shall always remember standing near Cley church watching swifts and house martins flying out over the lush green meadows of the river Glaven floodplain. One of the advantages of camping is that in the evenings I am able to watch the children at play. A little girl and her five year old brother played a game of hide and seek. The little boy made me laugh. He was supposed to count up to 30 with his eyes shut while his sister hid. He managed up to 10 and then finished in a hurry 11, 12, 20, 100. When it was his turn to hide he was very anxious to be found. It is a pity this isn’t true of some of the sinners I know!

I was pleased to visit my Aunty Olive in July. It was great to find her better in health and spirits than last year. Two small cameos caught my eye during the day: a beautiful, lissom, young mother and her two pretty daughter’s laughing merrily as they ran with gay abandon to catch a bus in Richmond High Street; a group of skimpily clad young women getting absolutely soaked in a torrential downpour as they got out of the tube train and laughing hysterically as first one and then the other lost their footing on the slippery platform.

At the end of June I heard two heart warming testimonies. The first was from my old colleague Ros Palmer at her baptism at Barton Mills. It was wonderful to hear how God had been with her during treatment for bowel and liver cancer. She spoke movingly with great power and eloquence. In the evening I watched a program on the West Indies featuring Trevor Macdonald. He interviewed an old black man who made steel drums. The craftsman said that God put the notes into the drums. Trevor Macdonald rather stuffily remonstrated with him. He didn’t expect to encounter Theology in a drum making factory! The old boy was wonderful. He made a very spirited, Caribbean response. Of course God did it; how could he do it by himself. I wish we had more such uninhibited, unashamed testimonies on TV.

During the course of the year I conducted three funerals – two of which were in September. Earlier in June I took Mr Roy Bonnett’s funeral. The church was full of people from the village – a testimony to the part he played in the life of the community. Sadly Roy was one of the few who attended our church from Brockley itself. He was the best of company. He found much in life amusing and loved to laugh. In September Mrs Dorothy Boreham passed away. She was a tonic to visit – always cheerful and content. Before she became infirm my visits culminated in a huge tea consisting entirely of cakes. Mr Dominic Harding’s death was a sad loss to our chapel. He was very keen to help in all sorts of ways. His death has weakened our small fellowship. The outlook is bleak for our church as numbers attending the services slowly drop due to death, ill health and family commitments.

I continued to umpire the Bury Vets hockey team during the year. It is one of the few things I do that can still raise my ire – along with Tommy Bamber’s many derogatory remarks about my driving and map reading ability. The truculent way some players question my decisions is too reminiscent of the classroom for my peace of mind. However, one of the better spinoffs from my days playing and umpiring hockey was an invitation to George Hazell’s 70th birthday party at Hunstanton Golf Club. George and I played hockey together for nearly 40 years – and he is still going strong – representing the England over-70 team. It is not often I go from church to stand in brilliant autumn sunshine on the balcony of a golf clubhouse, drink pimms and watch the Look East news presenter, Stewart White, tee off at the first. We all hoped he would hit his ball into the bunker. He didn’t – and Stewart must have read our thoughts because he turned round with arms raised aloft in triumph. What a poser!

I made one or two changes in the autumn. I redecorated the kitchen. What a chore! It involved all my favourite tasks – emptying cupboards, washing, cleaning, crouching, straining, stretching and bumping into things. I bought a new super sharp carving knife and promptly almost cut off my thumb. I gave up drinking my 2 or 3 glasses of sherry before dinner as I was getting spasms of pain in my hands. Research on the internet indicated these could be caused by a regular intake of alcohol. Finally, I took my brother, Peter’s advice – not something that happens often – and had my Bobby Charlton comb over hair flap cut off – to the intense pleasure of the hairdresser – one of my old pupils.

Tommy Bamber and I had a rare treat when we took Nigel Carter to North Norfolk on a bird watching trip he paid for in a sale of promises on behalf of Brockley Cricket Club. We all had a jolly good time. Tommy kept spotting skeins of geese flying in the far distance and saying, “Look – Pinkfeet.” I kept responding, “They could be anything. They’re too far away to see.” Eventually we saw some flying down into a field of sugar beet. When we stopped to look they were – Pinkfeet! For some reason this gave Nigel Carter a great deal of pleasure – but then I had also once taught him!

After many months of silence I had an email of appreciation for my website: www.jrtalks.com It was a little encouragement for the many hours of work I put into it. I am making slow progress through Luke’s gospel! A happy Christmas to you all. God bless. JR

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