Friday.

I don't quite know how I've managed to do this. In the past whenever I've tried to get this computer to put more than one photo on my blog the machine has laid its ears back, dug its hooves in and refused to cooperate. Now when I tried to get it to publish a photo of Moulton pack horse bridge, it publishes the wrong one, and three other photoes not remotely connected with what I asked it to do!!!!!!! However you get the idea of the bridge. It's a XIVth / XVth century pack horse bridge which used to carry goods traffic between Bury St. Edmund's and Cambridge over the river Kennet. There was also a ford beside the bridge for wagons and carts.
This morning we set out to go first to Gazely where I delivered and set up a clock I'd been repairing. Our friend the owner was out at a pottery class, but her son James and his wife Freja had stayed in (they and their three daughters share a large house with Mama). Freja very kindly made coffee for us whilst I set the clock in beat. Then on to Cambridge, where we had lunch and went on to Addenbrookes hospital where we saw Ann's sister-in-law Erica, who was very poorly but very much herself. She explained that she found talking painful and very tiring, but asked us to talk to her and she would enjoy listening and could nod or shake her head when she felt she would like to give an opinion. Gentle conversation for a while, then by request I read to Erica for ten minutes or so. Also told her of an incident that had occurred on our way up to her. We got into a lift on the ground floor of the hospital and were joined almost immediately by a nurse and a young man (well, in his early forties I should think) in 'scrubs'. As he was carrying a gas cylinder I asked him which floor he required, and he answered by saying 'It's Mr. Horner, isn't it?'. I admitted the charge and he said that about twenty five years ago I had shown him how a crossbow worked and had allowed him to fire a brass barrelled blunderbuss, which he had never forgotten. He told me his name, and I tried to be polite, but it must have been clear that I had no real memory of the incident. After I'd cudgelled my memory for a while the retrieval system started to work and I did in fact remember the incident and the bloke. I then asked a friendly (and helpful) nurse about him and she told me he was the anaesthetist on the floor below and offered to take a note to him. I scribbled an apology, and explained that I had remembered the incident, on the back of a business card, and the nurse took it off to him so I hope he will get in touch. What a very good memory he must have to be able to pull my name out of it at such short notice. Got home about 5pm. Ann's now having a short kip (I hope) as we are going to the preview of the annual Art Exhibition in St. Mary's Church at 8p.m. More later perhaps, if I'm still awake when we return.