Complete story

A bleak and cold day yesterday. I was glad to stay in. I finished my three months’ worth of bookkeeping and the VAT, so that feels very satisfactory.

With all the office work behind me, I did a bit of work on my story about a park-keeper, and I continued it and finished a first draft this morning - or second in the case of the first 600 words, already read out to Guildford Writers. I’ve emailed it to them for comments. I heard from Wendy Lloyd who organised the competition with Radio Southern Counties to say that a CD is in the post. I assume this will have all the stories on it, and, as I missed hearing some of them on the radio, it will be interesting to listen to them. I will probably put the CD in the car and listen to the stories there, as I assume the player there is the most technically up to date.

In contrast to yesterday, it has been a beautiful day – once again the type of view you would wish to capture in a painting – the sun shining through the trees, the sky blue, contrasting with the still multi-coloured leaves. I collected up a few apples – this surely is the last of them – and my cleaning lady took a couple of pounds of the smaller ones as a treat for her horse. He has been sampling them for the past four or five weeks and they seem to go down well.

At lunch-time, I heard that The World at One presenter, Nick Clarke, had died of cancer. The whole programme was devoted to him, as he had been its main presenter for twelve years. It was very sad and very moving. I didn’t know his face, but his voice was a familiar one, as I listen much of the time to Radio Four. I remembered how I heard his journal on the radio one morning, as he described his apprehension when he faced chemotherapy after the amputation of his leg. I was taking M to the station, and I was quite tearful as I listened. I imagine that, faced with an amputation, one might be tempted to say – is this going to prolong my life? If not, perhaps I won’t bother – just make me comfortable for time that’s left. He obviously wanted very much to live and it is so sad that that terrible ordeal did not gain him more than a year of life.

Four thirty and it’s almost dark. I must make an early meal, as we’re going to see Guys and Dolls in Woking.