On a gorgeous bright morning in early December I took my longest walk for 4 months through the West Stow woods and Country Park. There were four splendid goosanders on the fisherman’s lake. I was very relieved to finally be able to walk a decent distance again without incurring painful spasms in my calf muscle – a legacy of playing cricket one season too many.

On December 7th I arrived at the post box with all my Christmas cards just as the postman was emptying it. As I tipped my cards into his sack he said – with feeling – “I hate Christmas.” Then as a cheerful after thought he added, “I hope you don’t get as many as you send.” He was almost a man after my own heart!

What a cold, grey, grim winter we had. Heavy snowfall meant church services were called off, including our carol service, and numerous Friday bird watching sessions cancelled. Gone are the days my friend Tommy and I would go out whatever the weather.

I spent Christmas Eve joining with others in our close to chip the lethal wet ice off the road. One of my neighbours said he had phoned up the council three times to get the road sanded but to no avail. I was glad the weather was a bit milder on Christmas Day and we were able to hold our customary service in the chapel. It was encouraging to have one or two visitors including Tiggy and KB – two former Brockley cricket stars. I was especially pleased to get to my brother Philip’s for lunch as I had donated the turkey – won in a raffle – and I would have been pretty peeved to miss out on a slice or two. The highlight of the day was a walk with Philip and Sandra over Newmarket Heath as the sun went down. The sky was magnificent – aglow with colour from rose to deepest purple. As we finished the walk the ice was forming and crunching beneath our feet.

One of the advantages of the bitterly cold weather was that on January 12th I had more birds in my garden than ever before. One of my trees was alive with a mixed flock of redwing and fieldfare – the first time they have ever visited the garden.

After a day leaning on my elbows bird watching, updating my website and playing Scrabble I got water on the elbow – a big, painful swelling. Eventually I went to the doctors as it got infected. Dr Hickson was amused when I told her that I had Scrabble player’s elbow. My games with Dorothy Underwood are so hard fought that I rest my head on my hands with my elbows on the table to ponder my next move. The Reed’s find it very difficult to play any game purely for fun!

My friends Marion and John Skull lent me a charming book to read: ‘The Guernsey Literary and Potato Pie Society,’ by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Burrows. It was a delightful, whimsical love story set in Guernsey during the German occupation of World War Two. I highly recommend it.

At the end of February I went to Kings Langley near Hemel Hempstead with John and Marion Skull and John Eley to attend the funeral of our old Pioneer Camp fellow worker, Albert May. Whenever I began telling my rather sordid stories in the camp kitchen at the end of the day he would jump up and say, “It’s time for a word of prayer.” He got the last laugh at his funeral as I wriggled and squirmed through a sermon at least 40 minutes long. Albert would have rejoiced at my discomfiture. The thought made Marion laugh!

How lovely to have a warm brilliantly sunny day on the first day of spring. I went for a short walk, the yellow crocuses were out and everyone was cheerful. I can always tell it is spring from the activity of the rooks in the big beech tree overshadowing our chapel. When they renovate their nests they discard many sticks deemed unsuitable for their purposes – throwing them down onto the paths below.

In the middle of April I had a rare morning. Three things conspired to make me happy. I saw my former milk lady – Ann. She was brown as a nut and chirpy as a cricket. Such was my pleasure at seeing her I chucked her under the chin. Then I had an affectionate email from one of my loveliest pupils, Victoria. It was as if the clouds parted briefly and just for a moment the sun shone. Finally I had a very encouraging letter of thanks for my website.

My friend Tommy and I had a few memorable bird watching sessions. It was great to see a female Montague’s Harrier at Minsmere. We had great views of the distinctive raptor as it flew over the scrapes putting up the gulls and terns in a veritable blizzard of activity. Yet we saw something that pleased us nearly as much when doing a survey in Boxted. We watched a chiffchaff building its nest in rough grass on a road side verge. The sleek little bird was flitting about carrying feathers as large as itself to line its carefully camouflaged nest.

I had a reasonably untroubled season umpiring Bury Veteran’s hockey matches so I did not find it necessary to speak at the annual dinner to castigate those who showed dissent. I was amused by the speech of Rowland Beaney. He referred to the dinners auctioneers Lacey Scott used to arrange for pig dealers and pig breeders. The dealers were hard drinking men of the world and the breeders mostly Strict Baptists! At the end of the rather tense meal old Mr Lacey gave a speech that made the Baptists progressively more and more uneasy as they sipped their orange juice. One of the stories Mr Lacey told was of an old farmer he visited to discuss the sale of some land. As the auctioneer was leaving he happened to notice numerous boxes of pills stacked in the passage. He asked the farmer what they were doing there. “Well,” said the farmer, “I’ve been having a bit of trouble with a sore arse. The damned old doctor prescribed these pills and told me to stick them in the back passage. H’aint done a bit a good!”

I had two wonderful circular walks in the Waldringfield area with first John and Marion Skull and then my brother Paul. The walk with Paul was memorable for more reasons that one. We watched two kestrels mating – there was a brief squawk of ecstasy and then it was all over for another year. I caught myself thinking, it’s a pity humans are not built on the same principle. We had a lovely lunch at the Maybush. All was going well until I returned to my car and found the car park attendant had issued me with a fine for not having a parking ticket. I tried to explain that the ticket dispenser was not working and I had paid at the pub. In the end I went ballistic. It was just like being back at school. It made me feel ill. Finally I did what I should have done to begin with – went back to the pub and left it for them to sort out. In the evening I umpired a hockey match. Afterwards as I was driving happily through the gloaming I got caught in a sneaky speed trap doing 44 in a 30 mile an hour limit. So I got fined after all! Perhaps the Almighty thought I deserved it! I probably did.

Finally as spring came to a close I attended my old friends, Ian and Marion Brown’s ruby wedding anniversary. It was great to watch their talented grandchildren take part in a service of thanksgiving. The journey along the M25 was a nightmare – slow, wet, with aching bladder and a precarious stop on the hard shoulder for relief that nearly resulted in a collision with an ambulance.

I ended spring both very busy and with a vicious chest infection – something I don’t usually suffer from. On the first day of summer I conducted the funeral of my friend and fellow elder Edward Underwood. It took me a long time to prepare a message for the funeral as I pondered not so much what to say but what to leave out. I don’t suppose many people would say that Edward and I had much in common – but there was one very strong common bond between us. We both did our best to serve the little church at Brockley – he for 28 years as secretary and me for 21 to date. I admired Edward a great deal because unlike many Christians he did numerous things he found it very difficult to do.

I had another enjoyable holiday in North Norfolk – camping on Kelling Heath. Camping is not without its irritations. Every morning about 5am I was awoken by an arthritic pheasant standing outside my tent honking and ruffling its feathers in a mega flounce. How do I know it was arthritic? It walked with a limp. I hated it! Why had no one shot it?

One of my fantasies is that when I am out walking a sweet young thing will cry out, “It’s Mr Reed,” and run to clasp me to her bosom. It hasn’t happened yet! When I was trudging between Cromer and Sheringham I met a tall, lean, tanned, grey haired man walking a little dog. I knew him at once. Terry Harsant had scarcely changed at all since I worked with him at Pioneer Camp. But I must have! He looked me up and down and couldn’t tell me from Adam. It makes me fear that my fantasy is never likely to come true.

While I was on holiday I read Duncan Hamilton’s brilliant biography of Harold Larwood. One little story made me laugh. In 1935 Larwood was bowling flat out to wrap up the Somerset tail. He hit Dickie Burrough in the face – retired hurt. He dislocated the thumb of the next batsman – retired hurt. When number 11, Horace Hazell, came in he was heard humming, ‘Nearer My God to Thee.’

It was, I suppose, the first time in 60 years that I never picked up a cricket bat. I helped roll the pitch on Friday evenings and watched most Saturdays. My brother Philip also retired during the course of the season and at the end Joe his son decided to leave Brockley for pastures new. So my nephew Isaac is the only representative of the Reed family likely to play for the club in the future. I missed seeing my brother and I missed kissing my niece Ruth who until this year had been an avid fan. (Of the cricket – not her uncle!)

Still, when I preached at Mickfield I had a kiss from Emma one of my favourite Debenham pupils. It is always a pleasure for me to speak at Mickfield because there I meet several old students.

In July I had a rare morning flower hunting in Weeting. At Weeting Castle I found the rare wall bedstraw and at Weeting Heath, after some help from the Warden, the tunic flower – a delicate, miniature, wild carnation. It was great fun.

In August I went to visit my old colleague Dorothy Haylock and found her in a state of near collapse. Johnny Tyers was with her and had just shown Dorothy his tattoo. She almost swooned with excitement and can’t wait for John to have another one – preferably on the right buttock.

Also in August I went to a reunion of the King Edward Sixth Grammar School staff. It was a very happy occasion but I was sorry one old colleague stopped away because the previous year I had been asked to say grace. He told the organiser he wasn’t going to attend another religious convention!

In early September I conducted the funeral of Laurie Bugg who was born and bred in Brockley. My father took the funeral of his father nearly 55 years ago. Laurie was very much a local character. Every Wednesday and Saturday he had a fruit and vegetable stall on Bury Market. His widow wanted to play, ‘We have no bananas today’ as the coffin left the chapel. I told her: I don’t think our organist knows that one!

On September 5th I conducted the dedication of Arthur and Gill Rutterford’s granddaughter at Barton Mills. Her parents had brought Eva all the way from New York for the service. The nine month old little girl didn’t like being held by me! She immediately tensed up and then began wriggling, squirming and kicking. It was like holding a well muscled eel – but I clung on – for dear life! This amused my brother Paul who should have had his head bowed in prayer – being a pastor and all!

I had a lovely time visiting Paul and Ruth in Hastings in the middle of September. It was the highlight of my year! My brother and I spent three days walking and bird watching. In the evening Ruth cooked us delicious meals. On the last day we made a strategic mistake and went into a high street cafe in Sidley for a cheap lunch. Two mothers walked in who had obviously rounded up their unruly children from primary school and were going to feed them chips for dinner. Nothing makes my fingers itch more than badly behaved children in public places. Paul and I sat among a rather sad group of old ladies who were the remnant of a church luncheon club that had been disbanded by a new, undisciplined, charismatic style pastor who obviously didn’t think much of Jesus feeding the five thousand. It saddened me to see these old people feasting at midday on poached egg on toast. In the evening I visited my nephew, Michael, his wife, Beccy, and their four children: the glamorous Chloe, studious Joshua and cuddly, giggly Gracie and Phoebe. It is not often I get to read a bed time story for the young and cuddly!

The only downside to my visit was that ever since my stomach has been upset. So I am taking pills for irritable bowel syndrome. Irregular bowel motions can be very inconvenient. But, perhaps, this is not a subject you would wish me to pursue.

In October I suffered twin disasters. My twin tub leaked and could not be repaired because parts are no longer available. Then I rewired the plug on my brilliant old spin drier. When I put the plug in the wall socket it blew up with a flash and a bang and fatally wounded the spin drier. So then I made a bad mistake and gave in to my chronic conservatism and bought a new twin tub over the internet. It has a design flaw – a drainage hose with a mind of its own. It flips itself out of the sink like a demented cobra and spews water all over the kitchen floor. I needed a thermometer to test the temperature of the water in my twin tub. I tried two chemists – no luck. The shop assistants recommended Mother Care. A girl there persuaded me to buy a duck used to measure the temperature of baby’s bath water. I got it home to find it only worked between the narrow range of 34c and 38c. If you ever want a thermometer go to a kitchen shop! Does anyone want a second hand plastic duck?

I was pleased to finish my 102nd and final exposition on Luke’s gospel for my website. It has been a difficult if rewarding task working on Luke’s gospel for so long. I do spend between 2 and 3 hours almost every day studying and writing for my website: www. jrtalks.com. I suppose about 130 people use it each day and I sometimes get an encouraging email of thanks. I hope it does some good. It hasn’t proved much of an ego trip! God has on the whole spared me these through the years. He knows where my weaknesses lie.

God bless you all. Love: JR.

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