Today, I am back at the Old Rectory. It is cold. I have the heating on for the first time since summer.

Yesterday, the concert and tea for older people was a success. No mishaps. We had enough food for everyone. As we rely on donations of cakes, it is always a stab in the dark. We don’t know how many people will turn up.

I once took an elderly friend, and she broke her hip when she rushed to speak to the performer. She had been a ballerina when she was younger. The classical music, I know, reminded her of her performances, when her body was in its prime. She managed to recover after a gruelling rehabilitation, and she even swum in the sea near her house in Spain the following summer.

When she was fit again, I took her to the next concert and tea. We got talking about her ballet days on the way home. I had never seen photos of her dance around the world, sometimes with Nureyev. When I was helping her out of the car, she invited me upstairs to look at her photo albums. I said that I would next time. I was tired after helping at the tea.

She died soon after, and I never saw the photos. I so regret not saying yes to her.

At her memorial, there was an amazing photo of her as a young woman, with one leg almost touching her back and her arms elegantly outstretched, one behind and one in front. It was posed, not on a stage, but on a rock, looking out to sea. It was one of the most moving photos I have ever seen. It was breathtaking. I had only seen her walking with a stick.

I must try to get Lania, the daughter of my Aussie friends, Jen and Glen Atkins, to replicate that pose, at the sea, in Sydney. She is currently training with the Dutch National Ballet. Every time I see a photo of her, I catch my breath.  Her star is on the rise.

Today, I am going to the Rogate Art Fair at the church. Then Domino and I will head to the Downs for a long walk. He can run freely, at speed, up there.