Followed up an idea developing over the past few days: to get hold of an horologist to help with grandfather. I found one Graham Harding in Horology — The Index advertising , Isle of Wight, antique clock repair & restoration, but his website speaks of working only in southern Hampshire. Anyway, I emailed him to see whether he can either help me himself or recommend someone who can. Oh, and Jay has left a message on her phone to see whether Anthea at Number Twenty has any ideas. Dave Lutas knew someone, but he has retired.

Dave came to deliver the card table, now re-covered in a bright green fabric, not baize but good enough I think. It was removed to tonight's bridge venue before I could take a photo, so watch out for a picture later. Dave took away the damaged French oak armchair for restoration.

Jay came round to handle the washing fro number eight (their washing machine is still not serviceable) and invited me to meet his Nan, provider of cakes. A well-travelled lady, Wendy, with family in Tasmania, who lived in Canterbury, Romsey, Jersey, Eastleigh and Switzerland before moving to East Cowes fourteen years ago. Today it was ginger chocolate chip cake. Very tasty. We all had two slices.

Tuesday

My day on the Mainland — or as we say here, on the North Island. A welcome by smiley Louise onto the ten to nine ferry. I bought a County Press to find that Macquarie have sold Wightlink to Balfour Beatty Infrastructure Partnership. We'll see what BBIP can do. They plan to have three new boats for the Portsmouth-Fishbourne route, but no special mention of Lymington-Yarmouth. Their press release says: "Wightlink is a strong and stable company with the opportunity to grow and develop in the years to come. We are delighted to be the new owners of the largest cross-Solent ferry operator and are committed to investing in the business, and supporting the management teamÕs focus on safety and improving customer service.Ó

Frances asked me in for coffee. She's expecting to get a blue badge assignment with some Thai people visiting London. Lots of people at the exercises. Then off to see Tony, who drove me out to Shedfield for lunch at The Wheatsheaf ...

We sat down with two other drinkers, one of whom, an Aberdonian, had my sort of shakes. Nice bacon and brie sandwich washed down with a pint of Flowerpots Goodens Gold.

Back to Tony's place and then down to Hythe for shopping. Met Margaret and then Sydney Jackson. Margaret invited me to lunch one day. I told her it had to be Tuesday.

On to Pam Keen's for tea, and then home on the five past seven. Hardly any cars on the ferry this evening. If I were BBIP I'd get going on a new marketing strategy.

Monday

Washday, ending with sheets festooned on the glass of the bridge deck. Up early to get that underway before Derek the Handyman arrived to install the grandfather clock. ...

All well on the surface, but despite the efforts of Chris, first, and Graham, second, could we get him going for more than seven minutes.

Two pip emma: bridge class at the Club. Great fun, then back to finish the washing.

Sunday

Afternoon tea with a neighbour. Vey civilised. A delightful interlude.

Up late to sunshine, blue sky, five tenths cumulus. Glorious day, so I wanted to get out into the fresh air. Wrote a card to our hostess of yesterday and delivered it by half past one to the house on the corner of Halletts Shute and West Hill Lane (known to the Alma Place cognoscenti as Rest Hill Lane because of its bungalow dwellers). Then on towards Fort Victoria, dropping down to the coastal path back to Yarmouth. Today high water was predicted as 3.1 metres at 11:52, so two hours later a strong ebbing tide under the ten knot breeze from the west brought rough water over Black Rock. I noticed the plaque commemorating Robert Hooke and took a photo of the English Nature board dealing with the SSSI which is Norton Spit.

Here is a full-size picture on the Norton Spit notice. Now I can see where one of my friends goes swimming. Can you?

In the lagoon, and south of the Yar Bridge too, where the high water covered many of the reeds near the western side of the Yar, many Brent Geese feeding. And in the sky the odd common tern swooping for his lunch.

It's good to be alive in this special place which is now my home.

Friday

A phone call from Brett. He and Rosemary were due to take grandson of thirteen, Jiacomo, to Osborne House after lunching with a Yarmouth friend. Brett's idea was to call on me afterwards for tea, and of course to inspect my hutch. Jiacomo's idea was to avoid Osborne House and go instead to Ryde for some go-karting. A confusing phone conversation, for it appeared at first I already knew the friend, one of my bridge party last night. Brett rang back later. Similar names, life experiences and Yacht Club membership, but different people. By the time the mainlanders arrived on the quay it had been agreed I should lunch with the rest of them. Delightful that was, too.

I was delivered back home. They sped off towards Ryde. Yes, Jiacomo had won the argument.

Jay had invited me to supper, so he came round as usual in good time to pick me up for the happy hour drinks, and thus met my visitors. We walked together to the ferry and saw them aboard. After drinks at the Club we three repaired to Chris's house for another delightful meal and chatter till eleven. Home to bed.

Thursday

Bridge in the evening. John G and I partnered and wiped out the opposition. Most satisfying.

Recovery day. Pete came to see me. His usual Wednesday trip over from Lymington with his sailing mates. Bottles to the bottle bank, shopping for bread and returning-to-sender junk mail redirected here from Arden House. I shall be glad when all these wretched advertisers leave me alone — more particularly when they leave Arden House alone. Had trouble with the internet. Jay came round and fixed it for me by rebooting the router. I should have tried that myself. Then as a reward, a glass or two of Alex's house red, along with an interesting chat about life, the universe and everything. Jay suggested bridge here tomorrow (I agreed) and a drink at the Club, but I needed to stay quiet after my strenuous day yesterday. Off to bed early.

Tuesday

Busy. Went to the exercises. The ferry trip was the best bit. Took several photos from which, later, I generated this panorama (which you can see at larger size here) of the harbour:

Left Boldre early to meet Paul. We lunched chez Rocky at Quay Fifteen and then spent an hour in the sun and breeze, before dropping him back at the hospital. Drove to Colden Common to see a flat Caroline was thinking of buying. Nice place, but not sure Colden Common is for her. Paul left me with two issues of The Church Times. Nine o'clock Ferry back. I don't like to get home this late.

Monday

I declined the bridge lesson. The others went and I bumped into them on their way home. Otherwise, just a welcome quiet day.

Went to the ten o'clock Eucharist at St James. Ended in floods of tears; loads of well-meaning people trying to comfort me, but all I wanted was to be left alone. Must give this idea a rest for a few months. I am reminded that I am pretty raw under a bluff exterior. It has been busy — too busy — for over a year now. Though I had been feeling better I realise that was an illusion. Must let all this turmoil settle before taking fresh initiatives, especially in groups where memories are triggered.

In the afternoon walked alone beside the Yar, watching for duck, warblers and bitterne:

Then supper and two hours of Wolf Hall

Saturday

Met two new people at the Club: Chris Window Cleaner and his wife Mandy. Alan the Bank talked about his marmalade production. Jay took off with friends for a meal out, so Chris came back with me for supper: boeuf bourguignon.

Up in reasonable time. Breakfast o the sound of Desert Island Discs. Today the story of garden designer Dan Pearson. I think that would interest some of my readers.

Jay came round on washing machine duty. By then I had re-organised the bridge deck and relocated 'his' chair, as he calls it, to the north end. The small folding card table is now lurking under the tablecloth as a place for my printer. The Pembroke has its second leaf up to support my scanner, and the family card table is downstairs awaiting attention by Dave Lutas. the ladderback which was in the spare bedroom is now looking good at the south end of the deck. On on!

Bus to Freshwater at ten to four to see Elaine, my friendly optometrist. She showed me how to adjust my computer glasses to focus better. Then Carole Farrell tested my INR. We agreed no more testing for a month. I seem to be getting better. Back in the cold and wet to await Meryl and Tim. We sat upstairs till Chris collected us all for Happy Hour. I had had a word with Chris about the Clarks, so he chatted to Tim about joining. I went off with Tim and Meryl to the King's Head for steak pie supper, as their treat. Lots of chummy chatter.

Thursday

Naomi's birthday. This year I phoned, and Naomi answered, thanking me for her whittling knife and book. Noaomi is becoming delightfully articulate, able to express herself without embarrassment, and she told me, seven. Must be the teaching she is getting!

Last year Patti and I had spent the surrounding week staying in the Winermere house of Anne and Chris Ensoll so we could be in the Lakes for Naomi. I remember it well. Our return had been delayed by major floods, but The Weston Manor had put on a special late Valentine's dinner for us. That was pretty well the last time we were able to go out together as almost-normal people. This year there is no-one here to open my Valentine card.

Bumped into Chris, Jay and Mr Galileo at the end of the high street several times. Lots of shopping, including some very nice bacon from Mottistone. Chris's washing machine had now been taken away by repairers, so he and Jay were in and out using mine. Bed early. i want to establish a regime of bedtime between ten and six.

Wednesday

Up very late too. Not approachable till the afternoon. Resumed my re-editing of the FHL addresses, following ineffective discussions with Priory Records about my using their copyright material — or not, as it turns out.

Tuesday

Fog in the Solent; mainland cut off.

Well, not quite. But the arrival of my ten to nine ferry was delayed a little so as to give time for its companion to escape the Lymington River.

Exercises at Boldre this morning. Then lunch with Tony as planned. Text to Paul. He was on for an afternoon visit. He's in Southampton General whilst they attempt to control the rejection of his transplanted liver. We spent a metaphysical hour in the chapel — an attractive, muted, calm space. Text to Caroline, returning by train from Portsmouth. She had been in the exam room for phase one of the RCPCH programme. I drove to Winchester for Gs&T in the Fulflood Arms, her local.

Then back to Lymington for the last ferry of the day at five past nine. Met a disillusioned London commuter who'd missed the seven o'clock by a whisker — there's no eight o'clock boat except on Fridays. Lots of chat about WightLink's foibles. Home by ten, tired, so went to bed very late after supper.

An official of the Hong Kong Democratic party says Chinese authorities have seized about 8,000 rolls of toilet paper printed with the image of the territoryÕs pro-Beijing chief executive, Leung Chun-ying. Poor Mr Leung Chun-ying. Here he is, looking rather unhappy ....

Police seized the toilet paper from a factory in the Chinese city of Shenzhen where a friend of the party placed the order. Lo Kin-hei, a vice-chairman of the liberal party, said no reason was given for the seizure. He said the rolls were to be sold during Chinese New Year celebrations later this month. Source and credits: The Guardian and (for the photo) Kin Cheung/AP .....

While I'm at it, take a second look at the population growth in Shenzhen: during the thirty years since the decision was made by Mr Deng Xiaoping to build this place up, the number of residents has risen from pretty well nothing to well over ten million by 2010 and even more today. It had already grown to eight million thirteen years ago when Caroline was teaching English there. Be impressed, and realise the impact China is having and will have on all our lives ...

Monday

Very late up. My uploaded .mp3 versions of the FHL lectures had been unlistenableto for my attempts to reduce noise had proved fruitless. I found that out only after I had proudly emailed the link to several friends. Starting again from scratch took me till almost three o'clock in the morning. Just time today before Anne's bridge lesson to rise, breakfast on bacon (two rashers), eggs (one) and fried bread, followed by multiseed crust, butter and marmalade. The bread is from Grace's Bakery in Quay Street and needs no toasting if you cut it thick; the bacon and eggs come from Deli, the marmalade from Sally and Chris. No need for lunch, just off to the Club by two. I called for Jay, to find Mr Galileo digging a trench in Chris's garden for a new water main.

Back to an early tea and bed. I have to prepare for an early start tomorrow: PD exercises at Boldre, lunch at the East End Arms with Tony Carter, then Lymington shops. I need some more Cook frozen meals-for-one — and I want to buy a wok. Stir-fry is the way forward!

Sunday

A delightfully quiet day. The usual morning routine: Andrew Marr followed by The Big Questions. Today The Big Questions came from King Edward VI School Southampton, alter mater of my three scions. As often happens, two of the questions were plausible, one not. This time we had: Does counter-terrorism have a place in schools? Would democracy work better if voting was compulsory? And ... Have other planets guided our religions? On that last one we were invited to consider the idea that various religious celebrities originated from Venus (walking about on its surface), Jupiter, and I think Uranus. Well, after having had a good snigger at one or more of the popular pronunciations of the name of that last planet, any of the grandchildren might like to research whether Vishnu (for example) would have had a fun time walking about on the surface of Venus. To start you off, little ones, here's a link to The Aetherius Society.

After turning off Master Aetherius, and seeing no need to engulf myself in boring twaddle from Andrew Neil's Sunday Politics, I started to transfer recordings made by Audrey on my Olympus recorder at last year's FHL retreat (which of course I could not attend) to my iMac. Since Olympus do not supply software for Mac, my only method was audio to audio. That is not the best. At east it reminded me how many good friends I had: the phone ringing not helping the process, which became tediously long-winded, with several retakes. In the end I chose to turn off all my phones, disconnect the doorbell, and try again late at night when traffic noise was less.

Britain's College of Optometrists report on the strangest situations that people have found themselves in, prompting them to seek help for failing vision. A jumbo jet pilot taxied the wrong direction down an airport runway before he realised that he needed to seek help. And ... a man ate his hearing aids believing them to be cashew nuts! Source and credits: Daily Telegraph and Alamy ...

Saturday

Another brilliant dawn: blue cloudless sky until lunchtime. Took bottles to the bottle bank. We are supposed to be able to lump glass together with paper in recycling bags, but that seems daft and dangerous to me so I carry my bottles to the facility in the main car park. Anyway, I need the exercise and can get my shopping on the way home. This morning, bread from Grace's Bakery and half-price cheese from Harveys. Dominique was serving today, so I greeted her in French.

At the Post office cashpoint (the only one in Yarmouth, run by Bank of Ireland) I tried to register the debit card for my second NatWest account — the one I designate CT for charity tithing — but the machine said my account was invalid. I'll have to try again at a NatWest ATM in Newport.

Slept in till nine thirty, as very late to bed. Why? I had become obsessed with drawing a plan of my part of Yarmouth to print on the reverse of my visiting card. I had previously produced a plan but the names of streets and landmarks had been too small to read. With modifications I think the result is acceptable, and can be read without a magnifier. The obverse, featuring the seapie himself, is ready to roll:

So I woke around half past nine hearing Angie Hobbs, Professor of the Public Understanding of Philosophy at the University of Sheffield on to Desert Island Discs. Angie is a redhead, as you can see. This programme is good for girls expelled from school who'd like to make it in academia.

Next, now noon as I finish getting dressed, it's time to take a birthday card to the postbox. Forgetting what a friend had told me — that the last collection from the Victoria Road postbox is now 9:00am, or 7:00am on Saturdays — I walk up Victoria Road with the north wind behind me. Back via Station Road, Mill Road and St James' Street to the postbox in Quay Street. A useful détour enabling me to use the cashpoint outside Holdings. In The Square the wind blows stronger. Holding my iPhone level against a lamppost I get this picture of the old Lloyds Bank building, now an antique shop, against a brilliant blue sky.

Six fifteen. Jay called to haul me down to the Club's happy hour, as has become our habit. Met some new people: John P, brought up in Yarmouth and his wife from South Africa, a fan of the Pleiades; bubbly Michelle with Jon W, an astrophysicist with keen interest in the Parkhurst Bat Project, besides astrophotography of deep space, and his day job with BAe. It seems Jon joined Plessey (now BAe) just as John Gallimore was leaving. Clever people on the Island. I saw, but did not recognise my Bugle acquaintance Tony Knaggs, and re-met Dick and Pat Dawson. Dick is retiring as Vice Commodore but will continue producing the RYSC magazine. Chris came along and joined in reminiscences of Constable Country; Chris had been freezingly examining a boat in Cowes. It is getting colder. After the short walk home with the wind funnelling up the alley from the Club, I was glad to reach my warm home, stoke the gas fire and polish off the second portion of yesterday's Boeuf Bourguignon with plenty of mashed potato and a glass of Deli house red.

My handsfree phone arrived. I tried installing it without success. I expect I have over-stepped the REN limit. I have left a message about that for Graham: Mr Electricals.

Dave Lutas turned up with the balloon chair repaired, at hardly any cost. What a nice man he is. His hands are the hands of a craftsman, reminding me of my Uncle Sid, the wheelwright, farrier, blacksmith, coffin-maker in Heyshott.

Dave also brought samples of velvet as possible chair coverings for the damaged French oak armchair. I chose a red-brown colour which will contrast against the companion chair and tone with the balloons. Dave disappeared with the other balloon, and promised to re-baize the card table, so he'll take that on is next visit. Finally, he'll do the main job. I asked him about seamstresses and he's going to ferret one out. Her main task would be sewing up covers for the self-inflating mats on which five of us must sleep when eleven of us are here together.

Wednesday

Bridge and drinks in the evening. Here I am with John Gallimore ...

It was an enjoyable evening, but (at least in the beginning) my tremor and bradykinesia got bad enough to prevent my drinking from a glass of Champagne: a serious disadvantage. More to the point, these difficulties are making my card-play so slow that I may have to give bridge a go-by; certainly I wouldn't be a welcome participant in any serious bridge school. Perhaps more alcohol is needed ...

Tuesday

More admin, which is quite tiring. I shall be glad when all this settling in is over so I can spend my time on what I prefer to do.

Monday

Off to see Dr Walker at Brookside. Chris says he's known as Talker Walker. I can see why. He injected cortisone into the left knee. I asked him about skin rash so he prescribed some ointment.

I forgot about the bridge class, concentrating on my current task of informing everyone of my phantom move from South Street to Alma Place. I think I am almost there. One worry: I seem not to have established with Extra Energy that I need no longer pay for Arden House utilities.

Sunday

A quiet day after the busy time at the scout auction.