How we spent Christmas

It has been a really nice Christmas. People say that Christmas is for children and having an appreciative child really does make the wonder come back.

We were just five for Christmas – me, Margaret, Lucy, Tom and Julia. Sam, Lucy and Arthur are in Jersey with Lucy's parents, while Max and Inna are in New Zealand, spending Christmas day at Hot Water Beach. We were able to speak to both of them - Max on Christmas Eve and Sam on Christmas day. Skype is a wonderful thing!

Julia is too young to be into the whole Father Christmas commercialised thing, but she did love the tree, the decorations, the company, the food and the presents.

Julia checking out the Christmas lights.

All the stimulation seems to have spurred her speech along and she is now learning new words every day. She can say “Olly” and when you know the dog's name, you're well on the way. A few days later she asked me for a “raspberry” quite clearly.

Tom and Lucy came up on the day before Christmas Eve. I was busy in the kitchen, putting up a new towel rail and installing childproof locks on the cupboard doors. It was all a bit of a fiddle, made harder by the fact I was not able to have a swear (Julia would learn “bloody hell” as quick as a flash).

The towel rail was done with minimal drama and just needed the glass end superglued back on when I dropped it on the floor. The childproof locks were to go on the cleaning cupboard, bin cupboard, glasses cupboard and drinks cupboard. I got magnetic locks which you open by holding a magnet on the outside of the door opposite the lock and this causes a catch to be disengaged.

The lock and catch have to be in exactly the right position otherwise it doesn't work and the design of our cupboards means that you can't position the locks in the obvious place (at the top). The doors are also quite thick oak, so the magnet has to be in just the right position in order to release the catch.

This might sound like a long list of excuses, but it is, in fact, just a few reasons why the locks didn't operate completely smoothly, despite some repositioning work and a few strategic dots placed on the outside of the door in permanent marker to show where the magnet should be placed. I think Julia might get the hang of opening them before we do!

My final job of the day was putting up the Christmas lights on the front of the house. I'd bought a set of pink lights from Tapps garden centre in Baldock and once up (with Tom's help) they looked quite good, except that a metre length of lights (the first metre of 11.5m) were not lit. We had to take them down and reposition them so the unlit section was out of the way. Miraculously, a couple of days later, every other light in the dud section came to life.

Julia thinks the lights are amazing and has to be taken out every morning to see them. Margaret pretended to brush her head on the loops, so Julia has to do that as well. If you ask her which is the red, blue and green light, so can point them all out for you. She doesn't seem too keen on the yellow ones for some reason.

On Christmas Eve, Tom and I took Julia to Moor Farm to pick up the goose, a cockerel for Boxing Day and a ham. We were good and early, so the shop was very quiet. I had a mince pie and a cup of mulled wine, while Julia got to pet the farm dogs and to go round to the barn to see the cows. We have enough food and drink for an army, including Chimay Blue, sparkling wine from Gifford's Hall (Suffolk) and English white wine from Three Choirs in Gloucestershire.

Something catches Julia's attention on Christmas morning. Holly's
attention is on the biscuit in Julia's hand.

Julia likes to get up in the morning and come downstairs with me to make a cup of tea, which allows Tom and Lucy and extra hour's lie-in. As soon as we're downstairs, she goes straight to the cupboard where the biscuit barrel is kept and wants a Rich Tea biscuit, which she sits and nibbles while I drink my tea. She's learned the joy of dunking and likes to hand me her biscuit to have the end dipped in my tea. Lucy does not entirely approve of Rich Tea biscuits, but she does approve of a lie-in.

We had goose on Christmas day. I'd had goose once before and it's quite nice, but I probably prefer turkey, especially the one we had last year from Moor Farm, but Lucy had mounted a successful campaign for goose. It was actually very nice and dinner, cooked by Tom, was a success. We had a visit from Pauline, Chris and Jasper in the morning to exchange gifts and then we walked the dogs around Toneham.

Julia in her Christmas pullover.

For the first time in a number of years I missed out on a Christmas drink at the Rose & Crown but my sister, Alex and Clare came round for more present swapping and drinks before dinner. Julia was very happy; she loved opening her presents and was happy with everything that she was given. I think she would have quite liked Holly's pheasant toy but she was happy to see the dog playing with it. Holly also got a new duckie from my sister, so it was a pretty good Christmas for the dog as well.

On Boxing Day, we had a cockerel for dinner and Margaret took charge of the cooking, while we went to see the Fitzwilliam hunt meeting at Stilton. Julia really enjoyed it and was able to stroke a horse, got a 'horse kiss', saw a golden eagle and met a variety of dogs, including a massive St Bernard. Dinner was nice and there was a round of Telefunken (a card game popular with Lucy's family) in the evening. It was only my second go at Telefunken and I got off to a very bad start being caught with some high-value cards in my hand. It was between Tom and Lucy to win and I was playing for pride. Lucy is very competitive and she was very put out when I unloaded some cards that Tom needed to win the game. We had a second round a few days later and all the cards seemed to fall perfectly for me; I even got a batatarse (I think that's the right spelling) which is quite a feat. Lucy was very gracious this time round and said I had won fair and square.

We have discovered that Margaret has a knack for getting Julia to go to sleep. She's very good at spotting the right moment to take her to bed and at calming her down when she doesn't think she needs a sleep. Consequently, Margaret has been in charge of the afternoon/late-morning nap and one afternoon, she had left the baby monitor on. We heard Margaret snoring quite loudly, then Julia woke up, woke Margaret, who stopped snoring and then I think they both had another 40 winks.

Hamerton Zoo - the Bactrian camels are enormous beasts.

Lucy has been working quite hard during the holidays, trying to get ahead (or keep up) with her reading. She's also doing interviews for a study in breastfeeding and part of her first-year PhD. It's not been all work, but we have tried to give her a few days when she can spend a few hours with a number of books. On the day after Boxing Day (also a bank holiday), Tom and I took Julia to Hamerton Zoo (her second visit). It's quite a good place to spend a few hours and Julia can do plenty of walking to tire herself out. Tom can't really get his head around it, but this is exactly what we did when he, Sam and Max were little. For me it's déjà vu.

I have a new job - it involves a red suit and a beard

Santa makes an appearance in our kitchen

In October, I took over from Pauline as chair of governors at the Duke of Bedford School in Thorney. There's been plenty to learn and to catch up with, but it's coming along.

One thing I didn't expect was to be asked to be Father Christmas at the school Christmas Fair. It was my worst nightmare, but I was promised there was a Santa suit and some helpers, so I said yes.

Amanda, from The Lovely Little Tearoom, lent me a suit because we'd heard the school one was a little threadbare and, with Margaret's black Hunter wellies, I looked quite good. No-one would know it was me.

I'd expected a few awkward questions: "Are you the real Santa?"  That kind of thing, but in the end, there were no dissenters or naysayers, just excited children. Only two were upset (one being Julia, whom Margaret had brought along) and the other an equally small toddler. I was able to charm her enough to give her a book, but Julia wasn't having any of this Santa chap - she made sure she kept a safe distance.

I had a good chat with most of the children. Those with dogs were very amused at the thought of their pet barking at Rudolph. Some were very earnest, but most just excited and not at all obsessed with letting me know what they wanted for Christmas. A few children said they didn't mind what they got and one girl told me she was hoping for a SIM card for her phone. Another wanted a drone and, if Santa delivered, he was planning to film aerial shots of the village and post them on his own YouTube channel. He sounded as if he should have been talking to the bank manager, not Santa.

I've a horrible feeling that the Santa job is like all those others in the village - once you done it that's it, it's a job for life.

Looking after grandchildren

I have not posted much on my diary for the past couple of months. I seems to have been ridiculously busy - I am looking after Julia one day a week, I've taken on the job as chair of governors at school and there has been an edition of the Thorney Post to get out. There's also Probus meetings, Churches & Teas Group, helping at Thorney Friendship Group and Spanish classes.

I'm not complaining, I enjoy all my jobs, especially the time spent with Julia, but it is surprising that my retirement free time is so small. In the new year, I will have to resolve to get better organised. I'd really like to devote a bit more time to fitness and also get the allotment better organised. Perhaps the two could be combined?

I started my Julia-sitting duties at the beginning of October when Lucy began her PhD at King's College, Cambridge. I had agreed to do Wednesdays, Margaret Fridays and Tom Thursdays (Julia would go to nursery on Mondays and Tuesdays). It's easy to sit down and plan these things, but reality has a habit of getting in the way of the best-laid plans. Julia didn't take to nursery very easily and, to make matters worse, Tom and Lucy had chosen one in Letchworth instead of the one across the road from their house. This meant a mile-and-a-half trip each way, the purchase of a bicycle, child seat for the said bike and a lot of worry about whether Julia would ever settle.

Of course, she did, but only after a few weeks. The trouble with nurseries is that they take every opportunity to get the child back home, so if parents show any weakness (such as saying "let us know if she's upset") they will be straight on the phone. It's hard to be hard, but it's the only way.

Julia did settle in pretty happily in the end, but Tom and Lucy have now moved her to the nursery opposite their house, which should be a much more convenient arrangement. There are more children in the group, but I'm not sure Julia will worry about that.

Lucy has been hit hard by the amount of work she needs to do and has had to do a lot more reading, research and essay writing than was anticipated. This, combined with Tom's unpredictable work demands has meant we've been on call for some additional days and also some weekends.

I was a little worried about looking after Julia, it's been a long time since I had a toddler to care for, but it has been a real joy. She seems to have had a continual cold and cough since starting nursery, but she's a real pleasure to be with and it's nice to be able to spend so much time with her. When my own children were this age, I was working all the hours I could to earn money and progress my career and I missed out on such a lot.

She loves a walk around Baldock and a trip to Tesco is always a good bet. I've also taken her to Heartbeeps (grown out of that now), toddler singing in Letchworth, Logan's Den (a play cafe in Baldock) and a regular trip has been to Grandparents & Toddlers Playgroup at the Mrs Howard Memorial Hall in Letchworth. This runs from 10am to 11.15 on Wednesday mornings and, combined with a rail trip from Baldock, plus a look at the fountains in Letchworth, makes for a very convivial morning. After that's it's lunch, potty training, sleep, play, dinner, bath and then mum or dad is home.

Julia has a snooze on grandad's belly (nice and soft)

I've been rocking her to sleep to Edward Lear's The Owl and The Pussycat. My mother used to say the poem to me when I was a little boy going to bed and I can still her her voice, deep in my soul: "what a beautiful pussy you are ... you are ..." as I drifted off to sleep. I'm not sure Julia always hears the magic and sometimes I have to revert to “Rock-a-bye Julia in the Tree Top”. A tired teddy was a useful prop for a couple of weeks, but Lucy has now hidden Teddy so Julia doesn’t suffer from this crazy English teddy fetish. Lucy has never used a cot for Julia (she calls it a cage) so the sleep routine has to be to rock her in your arms until she nods off, make sure she's properly asleep and then put her down on the bed. It's like handling high explosive - you need a steely nerve and a steady hand. Often, I'm ready for a sit down as well, so I just rock her to sleep in the comfy armchair and enjoy a quiet hour or so myself.

It's a shame we can't enjoy as much time with Arthur, but Jersey is not as easy to reach as Baldock. Arthur has been in nursery full time, five days a week, since Lucy started back at work in August. We've just has a weekend with them in Jersey and I can't believe how hard they all work. Arthur is generally up about 5am and is starving. On Monday, I was down at 6am and he was, uncharacteristically, crying and grumbling in Lucy's arms. Lucy said he wasn't happy because his milk was taking a while to warm up so I took him into the lounge to divert him by showing him the Christmas tree.

Lucy was soon through with his milk and he sits back in his little rocking bed and holds his bottle to drink. He's very dextrous when it comes to holding a bottle and he does love his food. His joy in a morning is to go to nursery at 7am and have a Weetabix with warm baby milk when he gets there. He started on a few solids a month or so ago and he will now try pretty much anything. He doesn't have teeth yet, but he worked his way through a good length of banana, various vegetables and meat, including ham. He seems to have a slight egg allergy so Sam and Lucy are avoiding that. Because we won't see Sam and Lucy at Christmas, Sam did us a Christmas dinner on the Sunday evening, complete with chicken, ham and roast potatoes (plus Christmas pudding). Arthur had his first taste of Brussels sprouts and thought they were yummy.

During the week, Arthur's day starts around 5.30am with breakfast milk, then he's off to nursery at 7am and dropped off by either Sam or Lucy, who then go on to work. The nursery is in St Helier and is quite close to both Sam's and Lucy's surgery/office. He's there all day and get's picked up after work and home about 6.30pm. Arthur is often ready for sleep and so it's time to get him ready for bed and then off again in the morning. Weekends are when Sam and Lucy get to spend time with him. It's a very different routine to the one we had with our children, but Arthur seems very happy and is growing up fast. He can sit confidently, but can't yet pull himself into a sitting position. If you put him on his belly, we will lift himself up into a crawl position and can move himself backwards on their wood floor. He will also stand and lean against the back of a chair or between your legs, so he has a lot of core strength for his age.

He likes to go in his walker and can get around the lounge quite well. He also has a lot to say for himself and jabbers away to the world, generally with a nice smile on his face.

Arthur falls for the old reindeer ears picture

We only had a couple of days on Jersey and on Saturday morning we went to St Peter's Garden Centre near the airport to buy a Christmas tree. We'd feared the worst that crowded Christmas shopping could throw at us, but it was actually a really nice atmosphere and Arthur quite enjoyed all the sights, the people and being wheeled/carried around. Sam was on call and had to go to see a patient, but we'd taken two cars, so we stayed on a bit and had a drink and cake in the cafe. Margaret has been campaigning for a new artificial tree and I have been a bit grumpy about it because we had an artificial tree which she gave away two years ago. I think I got into the Christmas spirit in Jersey, if we hadn't been restricted to two cabin bags, I'd have bought trees, lights, reindeer ...

It was fine weather, but with quite a cold wind and, in the afternoon, we went down to St Aubin's Bay and walked around to St`Aubin, where there was a small community Christmas Fair. Arthur was well wrapped up in his special suit and slept pretty much the whole walk. Margaret insisted on pushing him despite cold hands.

Once Arthur was in bed and we'd watched Strictly Come Dancing on television, I suggested Lucy decorated the tree. She didn't look very happy at the prospect (I think she had her heart set on finishing the sherry bottle), but knew she wouldn't have time the next day, so she set to. She soon started to enjoy herself and the tree looked lovely. Arthur was very interested the next day and grabbing a bauble off the tree might be just the incentive he needs to get his head around this crawling business.

Blowing raspberries at Arthur on the walk.

On Sunday, we walked through St Lawrence, via the back roads to Hamptonne Country Life Museum, where there was another Christmas Fair. It's an interesting place and one of the attractions was a working cider mill, which would be a great facility to have in Thorney. There was an apple crusher, a press and a collection of fermentation barrels. We had mulled cider and an enormous sausage in French bread, which meant I could barely eat anything for the rest of the day.

Arthur was happy to snooze most of the time, but woke up on the way home and decided he's spent enough time in his buggy. Sam and I carried him, taking it in turns until the last quarter of a mile when Margaret wanted a turn. When we got in, Sam cooked a Christmas dinner, while I entertained Arthur and Margaret went with Lucy to Jersey zoo. We'd decided to get Arthur a year's membership as it seems a good place to go to keep him entertained at a weekend. Arthur needed a nappy change and had presented me with a poo. As soon I I got his nappy off he wee’d and I only just managed to jump out of the way. I now had a wet pad and no idea where the new nappies were. I eventually found one under the changing table, but it turned out this was a swimming nappy (designed to keep in poo, but let wee straight out), so he needed a complete change by the time Lucy and Margaret got home.

The weekend was over all too soon. Lucy dropped us at the airport the next day and we had a monster breakfast there before flying back to Gatwick. It was a good journey and we were back about 2pm, in time to buy that artificial Christmas tree, some lights and pick up a delighted Holly from kennels.

We'll see Sam, Lucy and Arthur in January when we go skiing, but these little glimpses of Arthur bring it home how lucky we are to be able to spend so much time with Julia.

Three generations of Rayners. Arthur would love to get his hands on an iPhone!

Road trip - Norfolk and Suffolk

Most years Tom and I have managed to get away for a bit of a road trip on the motorbikes. In the days before children/grandchildren, it was a week in France; this year we managed a couple of days in Norfolk and Suffolk.

Still, it's good to get away and spend some time with your children. Tom is working very hard as a freelance cameraman and he got offers of work both days we were away, which is frustrating for him. Freelancers never want to turn work down.

I've not ridden the bike very much this year - just a few trips to and from Baldock (I've only made one U3A Biker Group ride) so I was not at all saddle fit and at the end of a 250-mile ride I was ready for a couple of beers to ease the pain.

We couldn't decide whether to go to Yorkshire, Derbyshire or head east to the coast. In the end, we chose east and set a target of visiting Cromer, Southwold and overnighting at Tom's in Baldock. The following day, we'd head back into Suffolk and visit "Constable Country."

Schools are back, but it was surprising how busy the roads were in Norfolk. I did the usual run out to King's Lynn, then cut across country, around the back of Sandringham to Burnham Market and the coast road at Holkham. I could have taken a more direct route to Cromer, but this was a nicer ride, although traffic was choc-a-bloc in Stiffkey, where the road narrows through the village and it was the same in Cley. Cromer was absolutely crazy - we couldn't find any dedicated motorcycle parking and the town looked full. We did a couple of laps of the town centre, considered putting the bikes in a cycle park, decided against it and rode on looking for inspiration.

In North Walsham, inspiration came in the shape of a sign to the Norfolk Motorcycle Museum, which led us past a burger van, up a road at the side of a timber merchants and into a scruffy little yard where there was a fairly large warehouse and a covered verandah with three greasy blokes sitting on old leather settees eating sandwiches. Like fat old Labrador dogs, they were clearly very happy with their lives - not working too hard, doing a job they love and plenty of time to chat to their mates.

It cost a fiver to get in, but the owner gave us £2 discount because there was two of us. The museum was basically packed with old bikes, some pristine, some looking as if they'd just been found in a barn. Most of them were collected by the owner's dad and they were parked around the side and in the middle and to squeeze more in, some staging had been built, so it was two-tier bikes all the way round.

There was a real mixture of stuff - an American Henderson, a Vincent, lots of 1950s two-strokes (Francis Barnetts, Jameses and Cottons) - also some mopeds and some more modern Japanese stuff. There was probably a hundred bikes in there and probably half a million quids' worth. No attempt was made to explain or contextualise; they know their market - it's old blokes wandering round saying to their sons: "I had one of those."

I think I'll suggest an outing there to the U3A Biker Group, they're looking for some rides to slot in and this would be right up their street (in fact we'd struggle to get them out).

After the bike museum, I suggested we pop to Happisburgh to have some lunch. I thought we might be quite close and it turned out we were only a few miles away. Happisburgh is famous for coastal erosion and shipwrecks. I've often wanted to visit, but never got round to it. The village has a magnificent church with a huge square tower that stands out for miles. You can go to the top on weekends and Wednesdays, but sadly this was Tuesday.

The soft clay cliffs are easily eroded and a whole mediaeval village has disappeared into the sea (it's now several hundred metres from the beach), an aerial photo on the information board by the car park shows a row of houses in the field next to the lighthouse and now they are all gone. Some efforts have been made to stop the erosion, but it's a powerful natural process and very hard to prevent. Sooner or later, the sea will always win.

Memorial plaque to the lost souls of HMS
Invincible (nut not Admiral Totty).

The erosion has created a number of sandbanks offshore and these have been the ruin of many ships. It's a long list of disasters - 200 coal ships sunk in one night on the way back to Newcastle from London and over a thousand men killed, ship after ship has miscalculated the position of the sandbanks or been driven onto them in storms. The most famous disaster was the loss of HMS Invincible in 1801. She was driven onto the sandbank in a storm and 400 men lost their lives. Bodies were washed up all along the coast and were piled into carts and buried in a mass grave at Happisburgh Church. A memorial plaque was placed there quite recently by crew members of the last HMS Invincible (an aircraft carrier).

The ship was carrying Admiral Thomas Totty and captained by John Rennie. When it was driven onto the bank, a small fishing boat came alongside to try to help and Admiral Totty (in the best Costa Concordia tradition) nipped into the boat and promised to organise help. Some men got off in the ship's boats and were driven out to sea, although some were picked up by colliers; however 400 died including Capt Rennie.

If you want to know more about the various maritime disasters, there's a good website: http://www.happisburgh.org.uk/history/sea/losses-at-sea. Happisburgh (pronounced Hayesbro) is well worth a visit; the beach is beautiful and gets wider every year.

We had lunch in the Hill House pub and a nosy around the church, which is a fine building. There was a bizarre sign on the noticeboard outside the church and in the porch welcoming Pokemon gamers. An example of the church trying too hard to be down with the kids?

We then headed for Southwold via Great Yarmouth and Lowestoft. Southwold treats motorcycles with the same disdain as Cromer; I'm sure there are some motorcycle parking slots somewhere, but they are not signposted. We parked in the main street in a 30-mins free slot, just enough time for a coffee, except there were no coffee shops nearby! We ended up in the pub, often not the best bet for a decent cup of tea. The barman looked very grumpy when I asked for tea and coffee and disappeared for about five minutes. I thought he'd gone to put the kettle on, but he arrived back looking even grumpier with about 50 cups (obviously emptying the dishwasher is not his favourite job). The pub had one of those fancy coffee machines at the end of the bar and tea was made by dropping a tea-bag into a cup, pressing the button for hot water, placing a milk carton and two bags of sugar in the saucer and plonking it on the bar in front of you. The Japanese tea ceremony it wasn't! If you enjoy your tea, avoid the Red Lion in Southwold.

I hadn't been massively impressed on my last visit to Southwold and this was doing nothing to improve my view of the town. It seems full of old people with small dogs, jewellers, estate agents and restaurants. Well, we weren't going to be there for long because our 30 minutes parking was already overdue. I said we should visit the old port area before we left. This is reached by bumpy road (called York Road for some unknown reason) across a salt marsh taking you to the banks of the River Blyth. A cinder and gravel road leads along the quayside to a car park at the end of the quay where the river flows into the sea.

This is actually much more interesting than the town. There are boat builders and repair shops, chandlers, fish shops (or rather huts selling fish) and some restaurants/cafes. There's plenty of parking at the end and you can walk out to where the river meets the sea and get a good view of sandy beaches either side of the river mouth. To the south is the RSPB Minsmere nature reserve and also Sizewell nuclear power station.

The river bank and quay are covered with signs; not "Pokemon welcome" signs, but dire warnings about that will happen to you if you climb onto the rocks or down to the river. The signs say it is dangerous to climb on the "revetment", which assumes everyone knows what a revetment is and not just scholars of geography or military fortifications.

It was a long ride back to Baldock, but we were anticipating a run through lovely Suffolk villages. We had that all right, but the traffic was quite heavy and we were stuck behind a coach along narrow, twisty roads for about eight miles. We finally got past it, only to then miss a turning, take a detour to get back on the road and end up back behind the bus.

Once we hit the A14 (which was flowing smoothly) we stuck to it and eschewed the scenic route. The miles flew by at a steady 80-90mph, a bit fast for my taste, but Tom was leading and I was keeping a sharp lookout for police patrol cars. So I got a little nervous when I saw some lights approaching fast in my mirrors. I pulled over to let it pass and this three-wheel contraption blasted past, its three wheels doing close to three figures. The chap was wearing a leather jacket and had a purple Mohican haircut, but no crash helmet. He clearly has complete disregard for his own safety. He had sunglasses on (of course), but a bee on the forehead at 100mph is going to leave a mark.

We got onto the A505 at Cambridge and headed to Baldock via Royston. Tom knows a good back road, but we took the wrong route and ended up a long hill on a narrow road to god-knows-where. We turned round and headed back to the A505, but not before taking in a vista of the rolling hills. Royston is the end of the Chilterns and the whole area (including Baldock) is quite attractive (if you like rolling hills).

I was glad to be off the bike and have a stretch. We ate in the Red Lion and I had a sudden taste for cider topped off by a glass of Mount Gay rum back at Tom's. I was helping him dispose of the evidence before Lucy returns from Ecuador. Max is going to see him this week and will no doubt destroy the rest.

On Wednesday, the plan was to head back to Suffolk and visit the Vale of Dedham - Constable Country. We took the A120 past Stansted, Braintree and Colchester, where we picked up the A12 to Flatford Mill, where a good half dozen of Constable's most famous paintings are set. Flatford Mill was once owned by John Constable's father, but it is now owned by the National Trust and it's kept very well. There's a good car park and a short walk down to the mill and the River Stour. The mills, the bridge and other buildings featured in Constable's paintings are virtually unchanged and it's free to wander round.

The Stour had been canalised along this stretch and, in Constable's day (pre-railway) it was an important transport route so barges would be up and down all day long. The river now is clear and teeming with fish and ducks. It was a big temptation for the many dogs out for the day and most of them had a damp look.

We had a nice wander around, followed bya tea and scone in the cafe sitting outside by the river.

I don't know if Constable is a great painter, but his work certainly hit a sweet spot of nostalgia for a disappearing countryside as the industrial revolution drew people from villages into cities. The Hay Wain poster or Boots framed repro graced the wall of many a suburban home. It's interesting to be able to stand and see the exact scene (minus the wagon).

So this is where the Hay Wain was painted and it's almost unchanged.

Coming back, we'd intended to head up Dedham Vale towards Sudbury, then head to Haverhill, where we'd peel off and take the roads to Baldock and Peterborough separately. The roads and signs conspired against us and, although we got to see Dedham (and many other attractive villages) we were not heading in the right direction and ended up back in Colchester. Tom was able to plot a route to Haverhill and from there, we rode to Cambridge, parting at Duxford where I took the M11 for Peterborough.

It wasn't long before the road was blocked, but I was able to peel off at St Ives and come back via the Riptons. Missed turnings were still the order of the day and I went past the turn for Raveley. I knew it as soon as I had gone by, but decided to carry on to Wistow (never been there before and I thought I might be able to navigate a cross-Fen route back towards Whittlesey. Wistow is one of the more remote Fen villages and finishes at a dead end, unless you want to carry on to Warboys (which i didn't). I did find a road that cut across towards the Raveleys and Woodwalton and it was the narrowest, bumpiest road I've been on.

Back on the road to Upwood, Ramsey Heights and Ramsey St Mary, I was soon back in Whittlesey and home. After a second full day in the saddle, I was definitely in need of a stretch or a massage. I'm not getting enough time on the motorcycle to keep my neck muscles and wrists strong enough. The days when we'd do a 400-mile blast through France are no more.

Flatford Mill - much painted and now much photographed

This was the view of Flatford Lock (another Constable painting) except
the trees now hide the lock, which has also been rebuilt at the other side
of the river (apart from that, it's just the same)

Coffee and cake for Tom by the Stour at Flatford Mill

Visit to Apethorpe Palace

Today is Margaret's 63rd birthday and we spent it by taking a trip to Apethorpe Hall, followed by lunch at the Cross Keys in King's Cliffe.

Apethorpe Hall is an interesting place - it's probably the best-preserved Jacobean palace in the country, but was almost lost due to neglect.

It was built as a hunting lodge on the Rockingham Forest estate and came into the ownership of Henry VIII, who passed it on to Elizabeth I. She has her eye on an estate in Gloucestershire and so suggested a swap with the owner of that place.

When the queen suggests she'd like to swap, you don't say "no thank you" and so the deal was done. Queen Elizabeth stayed there a couple of times (in 1562 and 1566) and her successor James I was a regular visitor and even financed some extensions and improvements to the place.

After 300 years of ownership by various Earls of Westmorland, the family hit hard times and sold to Lord Brassey in 1904. They lived there until just after the Second World War when it was sold to the Catholic Church as a correction centre for boys. It was sold in the 1970s to a Libyan businessman, but political problems with Libya and the Gaddafi regime meant he could not take up residence and so it remained neglected with a caretaker - George Kelly - staying on unpaid and doing what he could to keep the place intact.

He made numerous representations to the government and English Heritage and, in 2004, it was compulsorily purchased by the government and given to English Heritage. They spent millions making the place watertight and restoring various plasterworks and then sold it to Jean Christophe Iseux, Baron von Pfetten who is a French academic and diplomat who has served as senior advisor to the Chinese government and also advised Iran on its nuclear power programme.

He acquired Apethorpe Hall in 2014 and promptly renamed it Apethorpe Palace. We say Ape-thorpe, but the upper crust call it App-thorpe apparently.

Anyway, he's now in residence at one end of the building (when he's not in one of his French chateaux) while renovations continue. He had to agree various covenants when buying the place, one of which was to open it to the public 35 days a year. He's actually exceeding that requirement by opening it for 50 days, so good for him!

You can't turn up and look round; all visits are guided by English Heritage staff and have to be pre-booked. We went with my Probus Club.

I've been through Apethorpe a few times, but had no idea this place was there. Apart from the Baron's living quarters, which you don't get to see, the building is pretty much a shell, with no plumbing, no heating and no electricity. English Heritage have fixed the roofs, made it weatherproof and also stabilised and made safe a number of ornate plaster ceilings from the Jacobean period.

They are elaborate, beautifully preserved/restored and it's interesting to walk through a place that has no furniture. It feels old in a sense that other old buildings, which are furnished, lived in and have all "mod cons" don't. I guess it was wonderfully atmospheric and because of the absence of modern fittings, it felt more in touch with its past.

Very old avenue of yew trees in the gardens.

Julia's first pair of shoes

Getting your first pair of shoes is one of life’s little milestones – first tooth, first haircut, first steps.

Today, Margaret, Lucy and I took Julia to Clarks shoe shop in Queensgate to have her feet measured and to buy her first shoes.

Julia isn’t walking yet, but she will push a walker (doggy) along and I’m sure it will only be a few weeks before she is toddling.

Tom had a very busy few days – a trip to Manchester, a trip to Leicester and then an early start to film at a fruit farm in Suffolk. Julia and Lucy came to stay with us and Julia was in a very happy mood – no tears in the car, swinging her leg over the side of the buggy (just like her dad used to) and jabbering away.

She liked the look of Queensgate (the shopping centre) and the Clarks shop was a new experience. They were very kind and helpful. We’d made an appointment to have her feet measured and it was just as well because the shop was full of children getting new shoes for the start of the autumn school term.

I can remember having my feet measured when I was little and also taking my own children along. Now I’m taking my grandchildren – Clarks has done rather well out of me over the years!

It’s a little more high-tech these days: assistants carry little portable devices and tablets, but the result is still the same - 4G in Julia’s case.

She found the whole process very interesting; the shop was fascinating (she’d have loved to re-arrange the shoes on the display shelves) and didn’t at all mind trying on shoes. Lucy chose a nice dark pink pair and Julia seemed very proud to wear them.

Afterwards, we went to the John Lewis cafe for lunch and Julia shared my salmon sandwich and some of Margaret and Lucy’s sausage, mash and gravy – a strange combination, but one that went down very well.

A week is a long time in politics

Harold Wilson, the former Labour Prime Minister, may or may not have said: “a week is a long time in politics.”

Whether he did or not, the quote has a certain resonance right now ...

A week ago today I was going to bed with polls all predicting a win for the Remain vote in the referendum on EU membership. When I woke up, we were as good as out.

A week on and we’ve lost a Prime Minister, the Labour leader has lost a vote of no confidence but won’t resign, Scotland is demanding a referendum on independence, stocks have fallen (the FTSE 250, which is the true indicator of UK confidence) and the £ has hit new lows.

For someone (like me) with my life savings pretty much tied up in stocks and shares, it’s a worrying time.

I also take an interest in politics, have been a member of the Conservative Party for a few years and I'm also strongly pro-EU. I think the organisation has its flaws, but the concept of a united Europe of nations working together, with a common currency, is one that has transformed the continent in my lifetime. Free movement of people, goods and services is a fantastic idea. Sure, massive immigration to the UK has caused alarm among some people, but we’re a victim of our success. The economy is doing well and the immigrants are needed to plug a skills shortage.

I think that Britain pulling out of the EU will cause massive damage to trade and probably kill off what remaining manufacturing we have in the UK (to say nothing of financial services, which contributes 20 per cent of GDP). Unfortunately the referendum campaign was dominated by popularist politicians like Nigel Farage of UKIP and Boris Johnson, the Conservative MP. Both pedalled toxic messages about immigrants, both promised to massively curb immigration and both claimed we’d be better off out.

For many people, it was a powerful message, and they won the vote.

Today has been another extraordinary day. It was the closing date for nominations for new leader of the Conservative party. Theresa May was in the frame, along with a gaggle of no-hopers, and today was the day that Boris was supposed to throw his hat into the ring, supported by Michael Gove, the Justice Secretary and prominent Brexiteer.

It didn’t work out like that. First thing this morning, Gove stabbed Johnson in the back saying he didn’t have what it takes to be PM and said he was running. Boris pulled out, wise enough to know he couldn’t win.

It was an extraordinary volte-face by Gove, who was quoted again and again saying he had no ambitions to be PM and wasn’t suited to the job. But he has form - it was Gove who was David Cameron’s close friend and ally, who stabbed him in the back again and again during the referendum campaign.

So what happens now. I didn’t want either as PM. Conservative MPs will select two candidates and the next PM will be chosen from those two by a poll of Conservative Party members, 150,000 of them and (me apart) probably the most right wing, racist group of people you could hope never to meet.

Gove will have strong appeal (he campaigned for out) and if May is to have any chance of winning she will need to talk tough on immigration. That’s a tragedy for the country because we need access to the single market for industry to thrive, but we won’t get that without free movement of people.

The EU will play tough because it will want to make an example of the UK for leaving the club (and why wouldn’t they?). So we won’t be able to broker a deal.

We could end up with the most right-wing government for 30 years; one that nobody voted for except 150,000 members of the Conservative Party. There’s no way that’s democracy.

The country, the electorate cannot force a general election (except by rioting possibly) yet that is what should happen. We need an election, with Europe at its core, where the Brexit Tories can join UKIP and we can have a re-run of the referendum with a properly nuanced campaign. UKIP may well win 100 seats (a good number from Labour). Perhaps the Tories would campaign to leave, but we’d know where we stood and who to vote for.

So what happens now?

It’s three days after the Brexit vote and I’m not feeling any better about things.

Our European partners want us to confirm we’re leaving and for us to negotiate an exit ASAP. There are also various warnings about making it tough to set an example to any other country choosing to leave.

The biggest danger is probably to the bank passport, which allows UK banks to operate throughout the EU. If that’s withdrawn (and the threat is that it will be) then our financial business, which contributes about 20 per cent of GDP, will be wrecked.

Oh and our credit rating is set to be downgraded and did I mention the Scots and Northern Irish want a referendum on separating from the UK.

Interesting times!

No-one has any idea what will happen, what we want to achieve from an exit negotiation by way of trade deal and no idea who will conduct the negotiation.

David Cameron, the Prime Minister (for the time being) has not given formal notice of quitting, he says the timing of that is up to his successor, which is probably the right decision.

So whoever takes on the role of PM (and Boris Johnson is the early favourite) will have the job of repairing the machine that they broke. It’s a pretty daunting job.

I think the best course of action would be to spend this year deciding what we want to achieve and then for the new PM to call a general election to seek a mandate for them as leader and for the policy they will pursue in EU exit negotiations.

A general election would probably see some Conservative seats lost, some UKIP gains (at the expense of the Tories and Labour), SNP holding steady and some gains for Lib-Dems and Greens. It might even throw up a new pro-EU party or, if the Lib-Dems had the nous to stand on a stay-in ticket, it might mean big gains for them.

I couldn’t see any party gaining an overall majority. UKIP, the SNP or another party might hold the balance of power. It might be impossible for Parliament to agree to trigger a Brexit.

Of course, there’s always the possibility of some redneck Tory just pressing the nuclear button without a plan, without a mandate as PM and without a clue what will happen.

The Brexiters are pursuing a line that: “we’re a great country, keep calm and we’ll be fine.”

If only it was that simple.