Thursday 26 February

I've had my honeymoon here: the first 100 days. Well, today it's 112 days — pounds in a hundredweight. The novelty is wearing off. I am less euphoric now, and more practical. I see my new home as a familiar mud-berth from which to launch into the river at high water, thence into the world. I have made many good friends in this tiny community, whom I value. There is a great deal of goodwill here. But now the water is entering the creek. I need to get underway.

Today I went to the cinema in Newport for the first time, to see Selma: the story of Martin Luther King's struggle to get the Civil Rights Movement going, with the march from Selma to Montgomery. See it if you get the chance.

Friday 27 February

Sorting things out at home, whilst Chris and Jay were using the washing machine. Happy hour in the evening, with the usual crowd. A second encounter with Graham — who has bought YOD 7 Blandina — and his wife Lynne, who knows a thing or two about roses, so we had a useful chat.

Saturday 28 February

Up early. Chris Holdaway came round at eight to discuss the new bookcase. He wants to construct it in two pieces in his workshop, and finish it off with additional strips in the front. I'm not really convinced, but I let him persuade me.

Sunday 1 March

A quiet day; a chance to turn on the Andrew Marr Show (hosted today by Sophie Raworth, who did that very well) and The Big Questions. I had been invited to a healing service at St James Church, but (I hope politely) declined.

Monday 2 March

The diary says washing and housework, but I didn't get round to the housework. Bridge lesson at the Club between two and four. My recollection of Acol does not chime exactly with Anne's so I have to avoid giving conflicting advice.

Tuesday 3 March

Up early for the exercises. I arranged to call on Pam, to discuss possible jaunts together. A week or so ago I had suggested a few ideas but she was busy, or I was, on the days proposed. So yesterday I constructed an engagement diary showing my planned and possible mainland days. We had coffee in her lovely big drawing room with the sun streaming in. Jonathan the Gardener arrived before I left. It was good to see him again.

I was late for the exercise class. When I walked into the room everybody cheered and clapped, which brought a smile to my face. Chinese-style, I joined in.

After our usual coffee-and-biscuits round the table, John Phipps suggested he and I lunch together, at Ciao Belli, a Lymington restaurant owned by Harriet's brother's son. We were served by a tall Lebanese (I think he must have been as he was dark-olive-skinned) — the colleague who shares ownership with Harriet's nephew — and by a delightful blue-eyed waitress who was prepared to share a few words of Italian with us.

I bought a wok from the Steamer Trading Company in the High Street, some oriental cooking sauces from M&S Food, and then frozen meals-for-one from Cook. Back to Walhampton Lodge for a brief chat with Ian, who had spent his morning in his weekly watercolour class at Lymington Community Centre. Frances offered me tea and biscuits but there wasn't time before the four o'clock ferry loaded up.

Back home to write up this diary entry, specially for UR who has asked for the link. He likes to keep up to date on my activities. So that done, it's time for some bread and cheese, and another of Somerset Maugham's short stories by the fire.

It has been a lovely bright sunny day. The birds sing now, in the evening. Spring is here.

Wednesday 4 March

Five of us met for Bridge in my house. The evening ended with a gym session, competing on numbers of press-ups and crunches. John Gallimore told us he had once beaten the number five in GBÕs water-ski team, which explains why his upper body pull strength and lower body push strength is so well developed. This accompanied by hilarious drinking

Thursday 5 March

Nothing to report

Friday 6 March

Off by ferry to Lymington, then driving to Ockley. I arrived just after two o'clock for a light lunch with Dan. By half past three we left for The Weald to watch Katie and Sam in their cross-country racing. Katie came sixth in her group and Sam was third. Jenny had difficulty finding a parking space on the netball tarmac so drove her car into soft ground. Fortunately I had my towrope with me so Dan was able to haul her out. Jenny went off home whilst Dan and I fetched an Indian takeaway, managing to squeeze in a pint or two of Kingfisher whilst waiting.

Saturday 7 March

The men were up early, whilst the girls stayed in bed. We had to be at the ground near Crawley for the HDYFL match against Ifield Galaxy. Galaxy are regarded as very good so our team — Mole Valley Rangers — were apprehensive but our first team won convincingly two nil.

Here's Sam (number 6) during a lull in the game.

The MVR second team were thrashed twelve nil, whilst Sam and I played football on the grass at the side of the pitch

Lunch at home with the family and then the drive back to Lymington and ferry to Yarmouth. As it had been a tiring day I had supper at the Bugle

At the end of the High Street on my way home Jay and Chris caught me, so we all went on to the club. I met Chris (window cleaner) and his friend Steve, who said he would come round to clean my windows (but did not)

Sunday 8 March

Nothing to report

Monday 9 March

Washday. I have decided to change sheets once a fortnight and on the alternate Mondays to do the housework. Today was for changing sheets

Bridge at the Club from two till four in the afternoon in the beginners class taught by Anne. Hilarious as usual, with Jay, John and Jane from Appley. Appley is on the Solent shore a little further east from Ryde

Tuesday 10 March

Up early for the usual PD exercises. Then lunch at StephÕs Kitchen (at FairweatherÕs Garden Centre in Beaulieu)

Tea with Catharina van der Vorm at Sowley House. Catharina took me into her sitting room which was new to me; a magnificent view of the garden, the Solent and the Island in bright sunlight

Wednesday 11 March

No bridge today; we're taking a break.

Thursday 12 March

Dave Lutas arrived bringing the French oak armchair which he had recovered beautifully in a light red velvet. I decided to have him do the other one so he took that away

Spent the afternoon clearing up some more papers

Friday 13 March

More clearing up of papers. I feel I am making progress at last

Freshwater by bus at ten to three. First, to Brian GilbertÕs shop Artframes. Brian has some brilliant photographs on sale. Here's one:

Brian will frame SamÕs tenth birthday poem for £11.95 — amazing value — for collection on Tuesday, so I can take it with me when I collect Jenny on Thursday

Then to the barbers for number four, and finally to Brookside where Carol checked my INR: steady at 2.7 so no further testing needed for six weeks.

Of course in the evening was happy hour. I met some more new people: particularly John Pottinger and Wilf Wilkins. John had been a master mariner with Ellerman Lines. I asked whether he knew Robin Meikle but he did not. Wilf has had a most interesting career in the police and the security services. He has served in Northern Ireland and in Afghanistan for New Century. I asked if he had heard of Michael BoydÕs Malachite Group, but he had not. Wilf and I stood at the bar whilst the usual others sat at a large table nearby.

I went home at nine and cooked a stir-fry of beef with noodles and and vegetables in a curiously flavoured black bean sauce

Saturday 14 March

I reorganised this diary, then took sheets and pillow-cases round to Anthea at Number Twenty (her shop in the High Street) for her to attach coloured tags

Sunday 15 March

Caroline arrived around ten, having come over to the Island with Mike and his two children Ben and Felix, in Mike's van. First job was to measure up for Caroline's stealth hammock. It will fit nicely under the bridge deck, as we had supposed. Then fresh air and scooter exercise was obviously needed so we walked or scootered over the Yar Bridge (all the Brent Geese have now left the reed beds) to the bathing place on Norton Spit SSSI ...

We continued along the shoreside scoter track to the west, passing Black Rock buoy and Sconce Buoy towards Fort Victoria. We could see Hurst Castle too. On the way back I borrowed Ben's scooter ...

We had lunch in Gossips Café; crab salads or macaroni cheese according to taste. On the way home we took the short cut through the Yacht Club. Ingrid appeared, so I introduced Caroline and friends.

Whilst the two foredeck crew stayed at home out of the north wind, engaged with their iPads, the rest of us cleared out the garage. Mike even got the old bed in his van — in two pieces. Here is Mike wielding his Samurai saw, and Caroline loading the mattress.

Back home. Outside Seapie Corner Graham was fixing his brake lights, so I introduced Caroline and Mike. After half an hour with the children playing cards it was time for the five twenty ferry. All of Caroline's goods were then en route to the North Island, along with loads of cardboard (and the bed) that Mike kindly offered to dump for me

The travellers stood on the quarter deck waving till the ferry left and I walked back home to find I couldn't get into the house. Caroline had locked the bottom half of my stable door with her key, which I must have given her by mistake last time she was here. Chris appeared, so he and I jiggled the door trying to release the bolt, as my bottom key was out of reach on the windowsill inside. No luck but all sorts of ideas: try phoning Caroline to get her to send the key back on the next ferry (but I couldn't raise her on the phone), break a window, do some more jiggling ... Then Jay abandoned his supper-cooking duties to lend a hand. Jay successfully freed the bolt, climbed over the bottom door, found the key and let us in.

Memo to file: must change Caroline's key for the right one when she's here next time, and remove that troublesome connecting bolt!

Macaroni cheese for tea tonight I think

Monday 16 March

Too much time spent establishing a new e-mailbox that worked. I had already started a bank account for my tithe. Each month by standing order I transfer one tenth of my PA pension income — that's not all my income because also I have the state pension, but it's a start — to this account. That enables me, with a clear conscience, to ignore junk mail, beggars and chuggers. I can say to anyone who asks, without feeling mean, sorry for you, Red Cross, World Villages for Children, WaterAid, et cetera, but despite your kind gift of a cheap biro or a small coin (why do they do that?), I'm not giving you a bean, go away. That's because, by the end of the year, I shall have given away ten percent of my (PA Pension Fund) income to charities that I choose. Well, this morning I decided to give £60 to Oxfam specifically for their Vanuatu Appeal, without gift aid. I am against gift aid; it bureaucratises giving, and is wasteful of resource. Besides, the government also needs money to pay doctors, nurses, policemen, et cetera — cf Luke 20:25. I shall also try to make my donations anonymous, so that charities don't know who I am and cannot din me interminably with begging letters destined for the bin. Harumph. So I wanted to establish an email specifically for charitable gifts. Succeeded just in time for lunch

Bridge at the Club this afternoon as usual. Congenial and amusing. Jane is very nice: helps me out of my chair et cetera. We are giving our teacher Anne a posy next week, which will be her last lesson this season. Jay to organise.

Wet and windy, and I'd missed the baker, who closes at three thirty. But I did run an errand and stock up with biscuits and milk

Supper tonight: another stir-fry despite the meat now looking tired and the half-eaten yellow pepper sporting whiskers. I reason that the heat of the wok should do for the colony of germs that seem to have accumulated in the salad drawer. Perhaps I should get a food thermometer and turn the fridge down a notch?

St Patrick's Day, Tuesday 17 March

The ten to nine ferry in heavy mist. Exercises. Left Boldre early for lunch at noon with Tony in the Waggon and Horses, served by Clare and Michael from Sunderland, who had taken over the pub two years ago and improved it: local Hampshire and Island produce with ten percent off for ferry travellers. They keep Cask Marque beers. I had St George and the Dragon, which commemorates England's patron saint. Developed by Wadworth's head brewer Brian Yorston and described as "a full flavoured pale ale (4.5% ABV) with a firey amber hue and crisp, tangy taste." Two o'clock ferry in sunshine over a flat calm sea. Bread bought, bus to Freshwater to collect Sam's poem framed by Brian Gilbert:

Just missed the three ten bus so took advantage of the warm sunshine for a walk to Freshwater Bay:

Back via number twelve and number seven to Yarmouth. Walking along the High Street heard the unmistakable voice of Jay, then Jennie, in Yacht Club Alley. We walked home together; Jay took pleasure in using his key to open the door for me. He had washing to collect. Jay told us the washing machine people have now told Chris his machine is unrepairable — annoying as he had already spent on a new motor — and then invited us both back to Chris's for tea and cake (a very light and tasty Victoria sponge)

Back home just in time to pick up a call from Dan. Dan had his tail up as he had done well at an MRS conference and now appears poised to involve himself in a company development project. The female manager has been sacked, it appears, to be replaced as CEO by a young bloke from a boutique global company who is open to new ideas. Just the right environment for Dan

Bread and Camembert for tea. Bed at ten

Wednesday 18 March

Tomorrow friends are turning up for bridge, even though I shall be away. So my pre-lunch task was to set the room up for that: card table up from downstairs, side tables, standard lamps, wine, glasses, nibbles, et cetera.

Thursday 19 March

Up early for ten to nine ferry. The view towards Hurst Narrows this morning is splendid: blue sky with a little light cumulus over a calm Solent:

Five minutes walk to Walhampton Lodge, drive to Ockley. That took barely two hours. I arrived at twenty to twelve. Jenny was ready, so we left straight away. We arrived at Denbies just about noon. There were the old codgers, retired from PA. Many I recognised of course, some whose names I could remember ...

Graham Howarth, leaving twenty years ago like me, but spending the next twenty consulting within the airline industry. His clients include BA, FlyBe, EasyJet and others; Gatwick Airport expansion too.

Derek Maclaren, his usual quietly confident self. With his son Derek has been establishing a City business recently floated for a quarter of a billion — successful in his own terms. I'm led to reflect on the different paths my colleagues have trod. He and Jenny shared thoughts about HRH Prince Philip. Jenny is due to meet him next week when she introduces him to her coterie of DofE Gold Award winners from Yehudi Menuhin School. Apparently Derek is familiar with St James's Palace where the ceremony is due to take place, and doesn't like it: too dark and old

Bruce Tindale, now running his own bubbly wine business High Clandon, competing with Denbies, he proudly explained

Anthony Beck, clearly suffering from short-term memory loss, helped by his (apparently younger and fitter) wife

Horace Barnes, who had headed up the whole of our operation in Saudi-Arabia thirty-odd years ago

Adrian Williams, reminiscing about one of my appearances years ago at a PA meeting, apologising for arriving late because: "I have been kept in discussions at The Palace"

Margaret Wade, who organises these annual south-eastern group events for PARA, and was sympathetic as she knew of Patti's troubles and death. She repeated her intention to come to the Island for a visit, along with Beryl Hicks

Everyone who met her enjoyed chatting with Jenny, who lit up the whole scene

Back to Ockley in plenty of time for the children's return from school. then the solo drive back to Walhamton

As she frequently does (but I am usually in too much of a hurry to accept) Frances invited me in for tea and cake. Graham, Ian's brother was there for a minor family reunion. Frances needed to unload some family sadness: terminal illness accompanied by much pain and anguish. We went into a discussion about end-of-life — and about ending life

Six o'clock ferry,and the short walk home. Jay and John were outside smoking, surprised to see me return so early. inside, I found that Les had captured an Amazon parcel for me: a pair of nightshirts due to replace my worn-out Hot Tuna tee-shirts I have been wearing as pyjamas for about twenty years

Upstairs, bridge was in full swing. So was the wine. Everyone happy. We all joined John Gallimore in celebrating his success in securing the job of business development consultant to Yarmouth Harbour

Amidst all this Dan rang, so we had a brief chat till agreeing to speak more fully the next day

Friday 20 March

Busy day at home, catching up, till happy hour at the Club. Jay went independently. I forgot to collect Chris. Ended on the big round table with the usual suspects, and was invited to Saturday supper at Number Eight.

Home for another stir-fry. After half-a-dozen consecutive stir-fries I realise I ought to broaden my repertoire.

Saturday 21 March

I had offered to contribute roast parsnips to the supper, so bought eight parsnips and consulted the Hairy Bikers for instructions. Jay came to collect some of my cutlery and glasses. Graham lent a few chairs. Nine of us there: Chris (his house), Jay, Alan (Nursie) and James, Alan (The Bank), Jennie, Ingrid and Simon, and me. Jay cooked a splendid vegetarian stew (Jennie is vegetarian) with my sadly flaccid parsnips au miel. Afterwards a splendid lemon meringue pie from Ingrid.

Ingrid is a BBC producer currently working for The One Show, so after congratulating Alan (Nursie) on his resilience in interview by Angela Rippon — about how he has started to solve IOW hospital bed-blocking through taking over spare care home beds for convalescent use — we steered towards l'affaire Clarkson, about which opinions differed

Sunday 22 March

Ten twenty ferry, drive to Beaulieu for chocolates, then on to Whiteley for lunch chez Linda and UR, along with the Gadds from Fitzleroi. Linda cooked a scrumptious roast lamb and trimmings. Then there was crumble and cream form Linda, pavlova from UR and cheese and coffee. I left soon after five in plenty of time for the seven fifteen ferry

Monday 23 March

Washday, and changing sheets day. I am starting to iron sheets on the dining table with both leaves down. It helps to slow down the washing machine spin cycle to 900 rpm, and hang sheets over the bridge deck glass panels first, so as to get them damp dry. I ironed a formal shirt also, having hung it on a hanger to drip dry. So I'm getting there. Lucy used to say that housework is the most collossal waste of time. I am inclined to agree

Graham came round. I paid him three months rent for the garage and he promised to help resolve my telephone problem: I have bought a handsfree unit for the bridge deck, but once connected the dial tone disappears on all the other handsets. This is probably something to do with overloading the circuit: I have a Wightcare gadget which shouts loudly at me if I press a call button on my wrist

Tuesday 24 March

Up early for the early ferry. Arrived at Boldre very early, so after setting up the room for the exercise group I wandered up and down Church Lane in the sun

Pamela had invited me to call in after the exercises, so we chatted and lunched together — Cold meats and choufleur au gratin followed by Pam's delightful compote of apple and rhubarb (first from the garden) with ice cream — from shortly after twelve till half past three. Pam told me where to get the car washed: at Shiny, just north of Lymington. Five Romanian lads doing a good job. Here they are:

I drove back to Walhampton Lodge. James the young gardener needed a jump start. That done I gulped tea and cake with Frances, leaving just in time for the five o'clock boat

Wednesday 25 March

Caroline sent a text: "See email". What could this be? It was her exam results. Well done, doctor. It's worth scrutinising her exam report not only to see what Caroline has achieved but also to see how these examinations are marked. But back to the results ... For the exam called Foundation of Practice, Dr C was marked 72.18% (which was 7.44% above the pass mark). For Theory and Science she achieved 65.87% (5.34% above the pass mark for that exam)

Chris came round. He had been deputed by Jay to find out whether I would host a bridge evening today. We also talked about how he produces survey reports. He did four surveys last week. Chris has strategems for overcoming his Parkinson-related difficulties. Those difficulties will probably get progressively more troublesome. We may do some sort of trial seeking to establish whether and how I might help him — or whether I'd just be getting in the way

I posted my letter of commiseration to the Winchester prison visitor coordinator who had ben charged with misconduct in a public office on the bizarre grounds that she (not being a public servant) had begun an inappropriate relationship with a prisoner serving 19 years for raping four women. She had been hauled out of her house and arrested, to spend time in a police cell. The case was hurriedly dropped by the numpties and she was taken home. What is going on, one has to ask. Where was the Chaplain in all of this? Cock-ups by Prison and CPS

Six o'clock and time for bridge. We marshalled five of the usual suspects and had an hilarious time giving each other advice on bidding and the best way to play the hands, as you can see ...

Bidding and play were informed by experiences from the past, recall of conventions enunciated by Anne in the Club bridge school, raucous calls for quiet to think amid general hullabaloo, and even calls for me to be quietened with a parrot cover or put back in my box. All flavoured with helpless laughter

The evening ended with a very very short attempt at three card brag and some card tricks by John Gallimore and Jay (of course). The guests left for the Yacht Club at a quarter to nine. I heated up a pasty from Grace's Bakery and polished off the remains of a bottle of Shiraz. A happy evening for us all

Thursday 26 March

Sam's birthday. I spoke to him on my mobile whilst on the bus to Newport. He's had a good day, likes his plasma ball and thanked me for his framed poem

I had been on my way to see the NT Live transmission from Wyndham's theatre of A View from the Bridge, the Young Vic production directed by Ivo van Hove

Calling at Morrisons to buy cheaper chocolate than is offered in Cineworld, I encountered at the checkout a woman who was in Wick last week to see her father who has bought himself a thirty-acre croft. As she said, it's cold up there and everywhere warmer is to the south of Wick

I took a call from Dan just as I was about to go into the cinema. Dan has been promoted to Director. Well done, Dan. He works hard, is full of great ideas and well deserves it

The play: by Arthur Miller, about the stresses and undercurrents of close family entanglements against the backdrop of illegal immigration from Italy to the USA. Hard to understand at first, with its minimalist staging, the plot clarifies as it progresses towards the eventual destruction of Eddie, the anti-hero played powerfully by Mark Strong. He and his portrayal reminded me of the strong Yul Brunner in The King and I years ago. Other notable performances by Emun Elliott (Marco) and Michael Gould (Alfieri, a sort of narrator). Nicola Walker, known to me from Last Tango in Halifax, was somewhat less striking. Young newcomer Phoebe Fox needs time to develop. She played Eddie's neice Catherine with awkward arms and without much conviction. Those are my views which don't chime very well with those of Andrzej Lukowski in Time Out

Friday 27 March

Ferry to Lymington for the Parkinson clinic. At the ferry door was a woman with three collies: one on a lead, another without and a third whose lead trailed across the floor. The owner had to lift up and carry the dog with the lead who was nervous about travelling on the boat. So I encouraged the one with the trailing lead up the stairs, and for my pains was warned off by a second woman, who seemed unconnected with the first. Curious behaviour, I thought. Similar difficulties at the Lymington end. Curiouser and curiouser cried Alice

Gill Turner, the consultant, was running the clinic today. She decided I really should be seen on the Island, but didn't know which consultant to propose, so I asked Chris to tell her the name of his chap and handed Gill the phone. It is to be a Dr Julian Furby. Gill then proposed I should start to take L-Dopa at a low dose — Madopar 62.5mg caps (grey blue) up to 1-3 times a day. Curiously (said Alice again) Gill said it was very good at controlling rigidity and stiffness, but no good at tremor; nevertheless she wants me to try this stuff "to see if it helps with the tremor". I shall do what I'm told

Whilst in the hospital I bumped into Brian (but not Sue) from the exercise classes, and then Joy and her husband. Then in the car park John (Pikeman) without Pam

Off to lunch with the lads (Pete, Bill and Tony), scheduled to meet at Pete's. But Liz is down with the dreaded lurgi so we assembled in the Waggon and Horses instead. Afterwards Pete came shopping with me. I bought some rump steak from the butcher who cut it up a stir-fry fuel, and a nice new pair of Lumberjack deck shoes ..

Checking in for the five o'clock ferry I had to wait whilst an irate female argued with the ticket guy. Apparently she had been using the ferry for ten years and "no-one has ever spoken to me like that before; I am definitely going to report you ..." Oh dear, not such a happy ferry day

Back home by six. Jay called in "to see if you are still alive" and arrange for us all to get down to the Club in good time for happy hour. Which Chris and I did, but I left early feeling the need for an early night

Saturday 28 March

Race officer training. Very well run, I thought, by David Fox and Nick Measor, with Jeremy Willcock standing by. On to Number Twenty for a word with Anthea; gave her a hug in my wet jacket; joked about dogs. Anthea sat me down in an antique chair and we spent more than an hour chewing the fat about this and that. Shopping for bread from Grace's and stir-fry veg from Harveys. Returned home, picked up voicemail message left by a friend, dealt with that and then welcomed Jay and Chris who had been to lunch in the Club with Auntie Agatha (?) whose nephew is Alan Hamilton and who occupies an important place in the history of the Y Class

An unexpectedly busy day. Time flies when you're having fun. I do want to get to bed early, so (at six fifteen) I'll heat up a fish pie from Cook rather than do another stir-fry or get sloshed in The Bugle

Sunday 29 March

Anthea turned up,delivering sheets, mattress-protectors, pillowslips and duvet covers, all now customised and tagged with coloured ribbon to distinguish each grandchild's personal bedding:

For the evening I was invited to join the Naughty Nurses Quiz Team which meets in the King's Head every Sunday at nine for beer and sandwiches; met two new people, Pat and Brenda, along with old friends Jay (of course), Chris and Alan (Nursie). We seemed to come second, with not much help from me. I think my memory is going south!

Monday 30 March

Check meds and washday with housework. I did indeed get the washing done, and do the housework: hoovering and bathroom cleaning. I feel quite proud of myself

But first of all I walked up Victoria Road to see Mary Cody, trying to discover whether my new Parkinson pills, Madopar were to be taken in addition to (or instead of) my Rasagiline. No-one seemed to know so I left a message for Gill Turner's secretary Julia

Tuesday 31 March

Mainland day. I felt pretty low, all to do with the split between friendships on the Mainland and life on the Island. I decided I really must concentrate my life on the Island — except for the exercises and friendly lunches on Tuesdays. Today I lunched with Tony Carter at the New Forest Inn and bought some food in Lymington before catching the four o'clock ferry home — and it is home now. I am so happy to be living in Yarmouth with all sorts of new friends, so must cut back on nostalgic confusions. The past is another country