The Year 2022

A symbol of beauty -a remarkable selection of hellebores grown by friends decorate the dinner table in Hampreston.  But there was little else beautiful about the year 2022.

March 2022.  The two-year anniversary of the imposition of the first UK lockdown.  But this was overshadowed by the events of February when we woke to the news of the unprovoked invasion of Ukraine by Russia.  Hungary 1956 and Czechoslovakia 1968 were just two examples of the paranoid belligerence of the 100-year-old Soviet or Russian republic, and now the 21^st Century is not immune to the same disease.

Also in March, I decided that the Corona Diary, published up until then as ‘The Doctor’s Diary’ was no longer a diary about Covid-19 and our response to it.  It became a diary about the war and our reaction to this.  Each new atrocity however, was an addition of repugnance to what had gone before – and sadly it became repetitive.  So I now have little to say that has not already been said.  A result of this has been that the diary (now renamed the Evening Hill Diaries) has become very desultory.

I discovered that there are innumerable doctors writing innumerable diaries, with my ‘Doctor’s Diary’ coming very low down on Google, so it might as well remain unread under its new title as under the old.

Here, mostly in pictures, is a personal perspective of 2022.

It is a truism that we cannot know what is to come.  Four chancellors, three prime ministers, two monarchs, a war in Europe and multiple strike actions as a result of large increases in the cost of living and interest rates together with a plunging pound were probably not foreseen on January 1^st, 2022.

Sometimes it felt like this:

Matt.  Cartoonist.  Daily Telegraph.

The year started with vigorous vaccination programmes, in which I was a contributor, though to a far less extent than many of my retired colleagues.  Covid-19 seemed to be on the run and some return to normality was anticipated.

In early January, deputed to lead a walking group, I decided that the gravel paths of Wareham Forest were ideal, and made a recce by mountain bike on a glorious cold frosty morning.

January.  Frost in Wareham Forest

February.  A distant view of Corfe Castle towards evening from the roof of a flat near Poole Quay.

The weather was so settled we even fished from a boat, and saw a classic 12-metre yacht in Brownsea Roads.

The weather was calm and settled for a while – flat calm on the sea almost out to Handfast Point and Old Harry rocks.

Four days later came a ferocious storm and only the most determined kite surfers were out in the harbour.

Three days later, Russia invaded Ukraine.  This changed the whole world, with worries that China might now feel encouraged to invade Taiwan (because of the initial lack of response by the West), and long term political and economic consequences for us all.  Fuel prices, and grain prices (Ukraine is the bread basket of Europe and beyond) soared.

18 days later, our Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra chief conductor, the Ukrainian Kirill Karabits, giving his first concert here in Poole since the invasion addressed a sombre audience in the Lighthouse.  ‘Since I was last here’, he said, ‘the World has definitely changed, and not for the better.’  Rather than play Ukrainian music, he decided to stay with the previously arranged programme which included as its final work, Sibelius' glorious 2^nd Symphony, often seen as a symbol of resistance against Russian invasion.

Kirill Karabits on the podium, March 16th, 2022:

We have a Ukrainian flag, in a show of solidarity, as have many other public buildings.

A remote church in Dorset - at Winterborne Houghton

And a cottage in Winterborne Stickland

In keeping with the loss of general world tranquillity, in my microcosm, a urologist told me that an MRI scan of the prostate was ‘suspicious’ and that I needed to come into hospital.  This was delayed after I caught Covid – having escaped it for 2 years.

Almost everybody now has a picture like this

I was in hospital for prostate biopsy on March 22^nd.

With some misgivings, I attended a reunion at my college in Cambridge.  No wonder I look so old and sombre – meeting fellow undergraduates from over 50 years ago was an interesting but chastening experience.  I suspect the college wanted us back to consider legacies before it was too late.  The weather was fine when I arrived.  I went to a David Hockney exhibition at the Fitzwilliam.  In a cold early misty morning next day I tramped the once familiar streets.

Not the happiest of portraits...

A striking Hockney image

A timeless image.  Punting on the Cam in the foreground (river hidden).  King's College Chapel, dating from 1441 and the 18th Century symmetry of the Gibbs' Building

The next day.  Early misty morning, the beautiful wrought iron gates of Trinity College

Mist on the Cam.  The 'Mathematical' bridge; Queens' College.  Note the position of the apostrophe.

April.  The result of West Dorset walks.  Wild garlic soup - and a potful, awaiting further cooking

Despite now knowing I had cancer, things took a turn for the better in April, with walks in West Dorset, gathering of wild garlic, and a lovely two days of walking from Laugharne in West Wales.  It allowed me to take in all the Dylan Thomas experiences I had long wanted to do.  To see the estuary where Thomas watched the herons while looking over towards Sir John’s Hill was a wonderful experience in wonderful weather.  ‘…Slowly the fishing holy stalking heron in the river Towy below bows his tilted headstone.’  Curiously, and in keeping with how the world climate has changed, as I walked down through the woods on Sir John’s Hill, I came across a nest of egrets, not a heronry.

Laugharne Castle, Carmarthenshire

The Boathouse, the estuary, and in the distance, Sir John's Hill
'Over Sir John's Hill, the hawk on fire hangs still...'

Kidwelly Castle, another of the remarkable fortresses in this part of Wales.  Defended by the Princess Gwenllian in battle in the Great Revolt, 1136.  She was captured by the Norman invaders and beheaded.  A true Welsh heroine.

Swimming began in April, but the dips were brief

Following a discussion with the surgeon and an interview with a London professor of oncology, I was allowed to cycle in France, to attend my daughter’s wedding, and to take a much needed holiday in Italy before submitting to the surgeon’s knife.  This was just as well because recovery from robotic assisted radical prostatectomy is not a pleasant experience, and occupied most of the rest of the summer and beyond.  Lindsay underwent a right total knee replacement on August 8^th, so she too was a sofa-confined sport spectator.  Apart from strenuous rehabilitation efforts on a stationary bicycle.

Charity Concert, 7th May, East Morden church
The a capella singing group - The Close Shaves

Cycling France, Langeais, Loire

Vineyards near Bergerac

Anna & Graham's Wedding

31st May - the water was getting warmer.  More smiles visible

June.  Italian heatwave.  Relaxing in Montefalco, Umbria

The beautiful frescoes of Assisi and Spoleto

Arena di Verona - a quick return trip to Italy to see Aida and play a bit of golf

Golf at the Villa D'Este Course - or at least, afterwards

Was this the greatest moment of sportsmanship ever?  Tour de France, Jonas Vingegaard and Tadej Pogacar.

Tour de France.  21st July.  The leader, Jonas Vingegaard, waits for his rival Tadej Pogacar, who had crashed during his attempt to gain time.

We celebrated Swiss National Day, August 1st, with Oleksandra, a refugee from Ukraine

After June 29^th, my world changed.  In convalescence I was grateful to be able to swim in the sea almost every day, but histology showing lymph node invasion left me in somewhat of a limbo while awaiting regular 2 monthly PSA checks.  There is a dearth of pictures from the year thereafter, though the birth of my first grandson on September 8^th, the date of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second’s death, was poignant.  In some ways it was reassuring – a continuing cycle of life.  We managed a five day trip to Istanbul in October, and less spectacularly, a visit to Elland Road to watch Bournemouth lose against Leeds (4-3; after leading 3-1).  Excellent sport continued in December with England’s sparkling form at cricket against Pakistan.  Early morning cricket in the sunshine dispelled the winter gloom.

September.  Marina visited from Switzerland in September, and we returned to Plumber Manor, only 44 years after her last visit there.  The cast was the same.

October brought variable weather after a good summer.  But in Istanbul it was pleasant.

Late October.  Night scene - Agia Sophia, Istanbul

The Blue Mosque (Sultanahmet)

An October sunset, Whitley Bay, Poole Harbour

After tranquillity, the Autumn storms returned.

Good kite jumping weather, 1st November

5th November.  Leeds.  Remember, remember - Billy Brember

And quiet flows the Don.  With Don Revie at Leeds.

A great and friendly atmosphere at Elland Road - but Bournemouth managed to lose

The year, at least as far as the weather was concerned, ended with a two-week cold snap before mild weather incursions brought rain again.

Occasional golf was possible.  It was lovely to see the oblique winter light, while forgetting the quality of the golf.

November 29th, 7th Green, Parkstone Golf Club

And then the cold snap.

An iced up harbour, December 17th

 

And mild again, 16th tee Parkstone Golf Club, 21st December.  The harbour and Purbeck beyond.

Christmas brought news and greetings from many friends, and an e-mail from Tena Incontinence products thanking me for valued custom and wishing me a happy Christmas.  I hope not to be such a valued customer in 2023.

There is widespread disaffection, dissatisfaction, strikes of nurses, ambulance drivers, train drivers, postal workers.  It's a delicious irony that the teachers who wish to strike may not be able to because the postal strikes may disable or invalidate their postal ballot.

 And my other daughter Katie, became engaged to James.

December 27th, Poole

And we cannot comprehend or even guess what the turning of this next year may bring.

I leave you with a striking sculpture by Robert Indiana in the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, near Wakefield.

And the seasonal light show at Salisbury Cathedral, photographed by a young friend.

Love, by Robert Indiana

Salisbury Cathedral.  It must have seen most things in the last 800 years...