We have come down for a couple of days to visit our Grand-daughter. She has grown in the six weeks that have passed since we last saw her. Also she seems to be a lot more alert and to be making a lot more noise. We have come down in our caravan, and I am sitting typing this to the sound of rain pattering on the roof. It has rained almost continuously since we arrived yesterday, and I note with amusement that the weather forecast for the North is much better than down here for the next few days. We are going to go into Hitchin soon, to meet everyone and have a bit of lunch.

Things change. The canal boat trip has been cancelled. A telephone call this morning brought the news that there was a problem with the boat that cannot be fixed for several days. A disappointment, but we have re-arranged for later in the year. In the meantime we have rescheduled and are going to spend some time near our Grand-daughter and the rest of the family.

I feel today that I have been overcome by an overwhelming tiredness. I have dragged myself to the keyboard while I try and write this. We seem to have got overwhelmingly busy, and I have been guilty of my traditional sin of doing too much and failing to do most of it to the standard I would like. It is the Church's financial year end, and I have started the process of preparing the accounts for submission to the inspector before they go of to the Church membership later in the year. This is all a surprisingly complicated and time-consuming process, and one which I try to do well, as those who know me would appreciate. In practice the membership have little interest in the accounts. Last year they approved the reports (the equivalent of a week's full-time work and much stress) without asking any questions and in a process which took about two seconds. Most people hadn't even looked at them. I anticipate a similar performance this year.

I have just come back from a few days at the railway, where I act as a signalman. I have always enjoyed the process of doing this, but on this previous visit I was rather overwhelmed by the groups of members and volunteers who have been there for ever, some since the railway was originally taken into preservation. There are lots of people in various cliques who actually seem to spend most of the time chatting to their pals about events which took place twenty or more years previously. For the newer volunteers, like me, this is quite frustrating. At least I have a responsible role there, and can involve myself in that.

Next week we are going away for a few days to spend some time with friends on a canal boat. This is something I have always wanted to do, but never have. I'm hoping that it will be as enjoyable as I anticipate, and that it will provide an opportunity to relax. It would be good if the weather improves, and there are lots of pubs on the Grand Union, so it should be good. I shall report in due course.

I have been trying to behave normally during this latest fuel shortage lunacy that we are experiencing. Yesterday the queue at the local Asda fuel station was so long it was obstructing access to the normal supermarket, and clogging the roundabout on the main road outside, and generally causing a nuisance. When we went out in the evening and drove down the bypass, both of the petrol stations were open, each with one car in them. The government are taking a lot of the flack for this situation, but actually it's all very difficult. The only way situations like this could be effectively controlled are if we had a police state, with the media under strict direction. That way people would never find out about these shortages, and in any case workers wouldn't be allowed to strike or even to threaten to. I do think that as an example of how not to make a situation worse this will be taught in politics classes in the future. And our beloved media, the bastions of a free society, do love to whip up a good crisis,and have certainly been contributing to this situation with their customary gusto. I will need some fuel over the weekend, the MINI is down to three blobs on the gauge, I'm wondering if I should put my affairs in order, kiss my wife goodbye and set out for the fuel queue with the immortal words "I may be some time."

The snow has brought a welcome change and a reminder of proper Winter. It has been quite cold, but the sun has been bright, and now it's all just starting to get colder again. My plans to walk last week were scuppered by a quite unpleasant cold, which was also sufficiently irritating to prevent my attending the Creative Writing course. The first session I have missed. The response to the previous week's activity was quite good, which is pleasing. More to do before this coming Friday. We have had friends staying with us over the weekend, and managed to get them out on a shortish walk on Saturday as the snow was starting. I think they enjoyed themselves. We are going over to seem them tomorrow, and I'm hoping to get a day's proper walking on Wednesday, with another friend of mine. I will report. My father seems to be improving still, I've had several conversations with him, and I think things are going in the right direction. There still seems to be no immediate need for us to drop everything and go down there. I'm continually reminded in my dealings with him of my theory of being a mirror to him, an idea which is not new, either to my few readers here, or to people in general. I am considering whether I might be helped by learning relaxation techniques, and even to meditate, and am doing some research as to whether there are local people here who could help me. I will see how things go.

The focus on contemporary fiction is continuing. I have read the new Sherlock Holmes novel by Anthony Horowitz. He has managed to capture the narrative style of the originals, with a slightly more up-to-date twist. Quite impressed. I'm off to my Creative Writing course soon, with this week's scribblings duly prepared. We are doing an exercise in medias res, which I had to look up to be clear what it meant. The news from my parents is that there is a slight improvement in my father's condition. The medication is being reduced, carefully. We shall see. I don't think I'm going to have to go down especially, but am just keeping an eye on what is going on. The length of the days is improving, and with it my mood. I'm hoping to fit in a day next week out hill walking, as this week it hasn't worked out.   

Creative writing course has kicked off today. Several new people have, excitedly for me, turned up. A few of last term's heavywights are no more, so I have moved up from being the new boy to an old hand. I feel quite good about this, strangely enough. Some of the new guys are published, so it's all going to be very interesting. We have been given an interesting exercise to do this week, which I'm going to have to think about before I attack itf. I have made very careful notes of what is required, so as to try and lift the standard of presentation above the usual level of crap I manage to produce. I'm actually quite excited about it all.

I've been reading the utterings from my friend in Bedfordshire who has not only got some plays published, but is now also having them performed both here and the USA. I am delighted for him and only slightly jealous, in the nicest possible way. Talent will out!

The picture of my Granddaughter which was published as part of my birthday greetings yesterday has a big stir from lots of people. It is a super little image of her. We will be seeing her again quite soon.

The Caro Emerald CD has driven me back to Kirsty MacColl, and Tropical Rainstorm is coming from the Sonos as I write these few words before I return to the paper shuffling which I haven't quite finished.

My birthday today. A good trip to the Caravan Show in Manchester took place, and I was able to pick up a couple of things I needed at a bit of a discount. I also managed not to buy anything silly or extravagant. After this we went across into the Trafford Centre for a brief period, and I was reminded of the commoditisation of our so-called shopping experience. If we'd been transported there magically I'd have been hard pushed to distinguish the place from anywhere else. The most exciting part of the afternoon was actually getting back on the motorway to escape the city. I got home to be given a copy of the Caro Emerald CD, which I have been playing incessantly. Off to the Mumbai in the evening for a very nice meal.

The news on my father is that he has been diagnosed as having a form of Agitated Depression, and that the GP has brought medication, and a visit from the psychiatric nurse is planned. This last happened ten years ago, when they moved house, and he found it all too much to cope with. This time the business with the income tax has set it off. I hope he recovers soon. Mother seemed okay when I spoke to her earlier, but we shall see.

I'm planning to go out again tomorrow to ascend another of my unconquered Wainright Fells. This is called Seathwaite Fell, and it involves a longish drive round to Borrowdale. The actual fell is only about 2,000ft high, and should be straight-forward. I will have to be careful, in case there is any ice lurking in the gullies, but I need to go and attempt this one. It is one of those fells which I have been past and around on lots of occasions, but have never been on. If I get to do it there will hopefully be pictures and a report on facebook.

I still have a multitude of tasks facing me, and the temptation to stay in tomorrow and do paperwork is great. I need to produce something for the Writing Course which re-commences this Friday, and I have a couple of ideas. There are also jobs for HF Holidays and the local church which need sorting out. But I intend to go out and try.

The issues with my father continue. He and my mother have been to visit an accountant today, so that part of the situation seems to have moved on, but I think that the anxiety attack that this business has brought on is continuing. I think he will need to see the doctors, and my mother is sorting this out. When they moved house many years ago he had a similar problem, involving doctors and even a psychiatriac nurse before he settled down. This is a great shame, and I don't know what the answer is. My non-professional diagnosis is GAD (general anxiety disorder), and I suspect he has always had it, but that it has come to the surface as he has aged. It seems to manifest itself in a need to be in control, and his distress comes on when he is not in charge of whatever is going on. I hope he will be alright, and hope that mother will be able to cope as well. We are a long way away here, and cannot just pop over to sort things out.

The circular aspect of life repeated itself this morning. I have been talking to my father at regular intervals over the last week about his own income tax affairs. He has some quite insignificant issues which he thinks need sorting out with HMRC, and in his own inimitable style, has been working himself up into a frenzy of anxiety about this. Yesterday I was disturbed quite early by a telephone call from him during which, over about hafl an hour, I finally persuaded him to take his minor problems to one of the local accountants in the place where he lives. Job jobbed, I thought. Finally, after a week of aggravation a result and a way forward, and much less stress for my poor, long-suffering mother. This has turned out to be far too easy. This morning he has announced that he has decided not to take his problems to the accountant, instead he is going to work them all out himself. Oh, the control-freakery of it all! You just couldn't make this up. After week of upsetting all and sundry in his lack of control he has decided that doesn't need any help, and is going to feed his own anxiety still further.

I was very calm, for me. I hear him and there is a mirror held up reflecting my own behaviour. I repeat this little mantra "don't end up like him, don't end up like him". Perhaps I already am, and what a depressing thought this is. We had a rational conversation where I asked him why he asked for my advice and then took no notice of it, and he didn't answer. I ended up telling him I hoped he had an enjoyable day, and left it there. I wonder how long it will be before I get another call updating me on his progress, and whether I will be able to tell him to stick his tax problems where the sun doesn't shine.