Friday.

Work went well in workshop this morning. I'd been avoiding starting a job for a week or so because I couldn't see what the problem was. Got started on job, almost immediately spotted problem, and (rather to my surprise) remedied it first go. I think. No recurrence after ten hours. Time will tell. Got changed. Had lunch. One or two jobs to do in town, then off to see friend Terry (Theresa) who wants to thin out goods and chattels in her remote cottage in Suffolk countryside, and needed advice. Also had repaired lock and found key to her antique writing box and had to whack and screw lock back into place. Went well. Advice given. Accepted graciously(though I expect she will have 'listened very nicely, then gone out and done precisely - what she pleased'). After which we wandered round Terry's large, and very well kept, garden for a while, and had tea with her. As we were about to come away Terry said 'there's something else I want you to look at' and took us upstairs. She had laid out about a dozen items that she had already decided to part with, and wanted us to choose one of them 'as a small thank you present for all your help'. As she was quite insistant on the point we eventually chose a thick pottery tile that I thought was Persian , but Terry told me was Indian. It is about nine inches square, has a narrow blue border, and a white background with blue and turquoise flowers on. Terry used it as a teapot stand, and we've both always liked it. Very kind of her. After we left we took a pretty route home, and eventually found ourselves at Lindsey Church, which we explored. Pretty little building with all the once carved oak worn and scrubbed to a sort of silvery grey/ off white. Lindsey is a small parish with a few farms and cottages. It has a Church, and St. James' chapel, but no real village. Yet it was once an important enough wool growing area to have a woollen cloth (linsey) named after it. Suffolk is a lovely area (and I speak as a Norfolk man); it has no dramatic scenery, small hills, and many very pretty villages that know they were once market towns, and behave as if they still are. We never tire of exploring it, and it can still give us pleasant surprises. Drove home via Kersey (another village with a cloth named after it). Had last night's casserole hotted up for supper. Don't know why anything of the stew family always tastes even better the next day, but they always do and so did this one. Good night.