A goal of my blogging is to not write too much that is personal. However, this month I must break that rule. A couple of weeks ago my daughter gave birth to her first child, and therefore our first grandchild. The boy and mother are doing well, and we have seen them briefly. This new life is quite miraculous. I had forgotten how tiny and fragile newborns are!

He did not have a name for a while. I am relieved to say that my family and second name were not in the running. My father was called Walter, after his father, and he really disliked it, to the point that he took the name ‘Jack’. I have to ask why I was then given Walter as a second name. My peer group may remember the bespectacled wimp of “Walter the softie” from the Beano comics. Denis the Menace had no sympathy for this character. It ruined it as a name for me.

Our two visits to see the baby were very brief, especially since the child was born via c-section. This is, by anybody’s standards, major surgery. Indeed, initially Rowan and Ben indicated they wanted a two-week moratorium on all visits. It was eased as they realised they were coping, but it was still only grandparents and Norwich family allowed to visit. Rowan reported that the level of care from the National Health Service has been outstanding! They had frequent visits from various health professionals and much reassurance.

Of course, I think the baby is an absolute delight and is clearly very intelligent and good looking. It’s hard to tell much more as, at the moment, he is a champion sleeper. At least that has been our experience. His parents report he does not maintain this behaviour at night. It is quite delightful to see this tiny baby and his incredibly proud parents. I have to admit to experiencing emotions I had not anticipated!

On the Saturday before his birth there was a family reunion at my niece’s home, in south London. Of course, Rowan and Ben could not make it for obvious reasons. My half-sister, Pat, is 94 and so opportunities to see her are very special. Kate de Pury spent many years as a journalist in Moscow. Her Russian husband, Vanya, and half Russian daughter Olga were integral to the organisation and running of the event.

It turned out to be a reasonably easy and very quick journey from Norwich. We took a train to Stratford, travelled to London Bridge on the Underground and caught a train to a commuter station called Gypsy Hill. The journey took just under three hours. It was a bit longer getting back home but not by much.

There were 17 people present at the lunch, all directly connected in some way to my and Pat’s grandfather, Walter Sampson Whiteside (1868-1963), and most to my and Pat’s father, Walter Jack Whiteside (1899-1990). I hope they would have been proud and pleased to see their descendants and families: cousins, nephews and nieces and partners, gathered because of the relationship. The guests of honour of the event were Pat and my cousin Sandra.

There was a gap to the next generation and to my horror I realised Ailsa and I were the oldest of that group. If Rowan and the baby had been there, four generations would have been present. It was warming to see that blood links run deep. The next gathering will be in March or April next year as I am determined to mark my 70th birthday, in both the UK and South Africa! I will have what is called a three-line whip. In the British parliament a “whip” is a document or notice circulated to party members by the party whip. It gives details of upcoming votes and how the MPs are expected to vote. If the item is underlined three times then participation in the vote is mandatory!

The weather for the last eight weeks has been incredibly dry, with absolutely no rain across most of the United Kingdom. The news programmes are sounding warnings about an imminent drought for most of the country. There is usually a backdrop of a dry reservoir. It is actually quite serious, especially since it is a harbinger of climate change. We have had day after day of solid sunshine with the temperature in the high 20s. There have been some light showers in the last few days but they barely registered in my rain gauge.

Fortunately, it has not been humid so there is no trouble sleeping. Indeed, with the bedroom windows open we manage to have a decent draft. The forecasters suggest things may change over the next week and I certainly hope so. We need days of steady soaking rain. I finished this blog on the 1st September, the first day of autumn. Let us hope the change of season brings rain.

The one thing I remember vividly from Swaziland and South Africa is just how dreadful droughts are. There is nothing one can do except hope, and where relevant, pray for rain and scan the skies for clouds. At least here in the UK we do not see livestock bone thin and dying beside the roads. There is still some grazing, and farmers have access to lucerne and other feedstuffs.

I try to support our local market, which is where I buy fruit. When I came to Norwich in 1975 the majority of the stalls sold fruit and vegetables. Today there is quite a variation, but the largest proportion sell prepared food, with many cuisines represented. There are now only two fruit and veg stalls operating and I always go to the same one. My favourite seasonal fruit are cherries. A week ago, they had none, although the next door one did. I asked where they were from and was told Canada. My rule of thumb is I will not purchase ‘airmiles’ fruit that can be grown in the UK. If it is available in season in the UK, then I will eat it in season. I try to be ethical and environmentally conscious. I do sometimes make an exception for southern Africa produce!

My exercise continues to comprise chiefly of walking. I try to walk 10 km a day. Unfortunately, the part of the city we live in does not encourage this. It is suburban, and pavements are boring and can be hot. On the August bank holiday, we went to one of the main walking/cycle paths and managed 10 km on the Marriott way. This is a 40 km path along an old railway line from Norwich that, in part, runs alongside the river Wensum.

A couple of nights ago we watched a programme on the major renovation of the 900-year-old Norwich Castle. The programme, ‘The Castle: Rebuilding History’ was aired on Channel 4 and is available to stream. It was fascinating. The castle was built by William the Conqueror following his subjugation of East Anglia after his invasion of England in 1066. The work was probably started in the early 1070s and took a number of years to complete. The Cathedral which dates from the same time took considerably longer.

The renovation was scheduled to take three years but took seven, partly because of Covid, but also due to several historical discoveries making them pause so people could investigate. It cost well over double the estimate. What has always fascinated me about the castle and cathedral is that the people who planned and started the building originally knew they would not live to see them completed. What were their motives? I can’t believe it was ‘just a job’.

We have had a visitor, my second cousin, originally from Cape Town, but now living and working in Washington DC. It is always nice to have someone to show around the city and go to places we do not regularly visit. This included the renovated castle. When we went to the Cathedral I was taken aback when one of the senior clergy went to a microphone and asked visitors to pause for a prayer. He then prayed for the environment. It was both moving and apt.