Wartime wedding

My parents were married 75 years ago today, at The Oratory, Birmingham. This photograph shows them as gay young things, in August 1938.

Light, the shadow of God

Naunton church has two sundials on its tower: this one appeals to me as it resembles a face, with its two eyes and smiley mouth. I photographed it this sunny afternoon, on my way back from Shipston-on-Stour. The journey became something of a crawl: in the process I bagged five more Gloucestershire churches for my photo project.

Having just been to the Catholic funeral mass of a cousin's widow, my visits to these Anglican churches made me realise what a lot of time we still waste, fighting the old battles, instead of joining together as Christians to combat secularism in all its forms. My cousin had 13 grandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren, many of whom were there, but of them only a minority seemed at home in a church. What can those Latin words possibly mean to the secular world of today?

Birmingham

I knew David Wood a little at Oxford, where he displayed a precocious talent in the OUDS and ETC. Starting as he meant to go on, he is now hailed by some as the children's theatre laureate. We turned our backs on panto for once in order to sample his adaptation of "Tom's Midnight Garden" this afternoon, the children scoring it 10 out of 10.

For this, the five of us sat at the back of the steeply-raked stalls at Birmingham Old Rep. It's celebrating 100 years as a theatre this year, and the space between the rows is an indication of how well we've all been eating our greens in the interim. I remember being taken to pantos there by my grandmother Gateley - probably in the 1940s, when my legs and trousers were shorter.

Before the play, we paid a visit to the crib at St Philip's (in fact two cribs - plus of course the Burne-Jones Nativity window); and then had lunch in the new Library café, explored its lifts and escalators and admired the view from the top floor. The children rolled merrily around on the carpet of the recreated Shakespeare Memorial Room, where they clearly felt at home. (Ida has been spouting Macbeth.)

Cycle Norfolk - 2

Only the faintest drop of rain today - more or less perfect for cycling. We set off at 10ish, the sun shining, bidding our hostess a cheery Goodbye. Within a mile, however, ping went my back tyre. (The nearest village was Rougham, so what should I expect?) Back like bad pennies we gloomily walked to our friend's house: she, however, quickly dug out an old bike rack and in two ticks off we all set in her car to the Fakenham cycle shop. Amazing. ("T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far...")

From Fakenham, it's a doddle to where we are staying this evening - 40 miles South-East in Kirby Bedon. Both places are on Route 1 of Sustrans' marvellous National Cycle Network: I still have the old route map from my 2011 ride to Ampleforth, up through Lincolnshire. The difference between route levels is barely ever more than 40 metres: as far as Norwich, we more or less followed the line of the River Wensum.

Sitting outside Great Ryburgh Post Office, drinking coffee, we inhaled the scent of hops being malted. "Lovely day for bicycling: you must visit St Andrew's and see our stained glass," we were urged. Not Wailes' best, we thought, having followed this suggestion. But the screens and Ninian Comper's other extensive work in the church were well worth pausing to admire. A hint of late Strawberry Hill Gothic about them.

The next stop was to photograph a signpost indicating "Gateley" - off our route unfortunately: the parish name is apparently old English and translates as 'clearing where goats are kept'. No link, I think, with my grandfather Gateley's family, his great-grandfather, who kept a pub, hailing from Ireland (Co. Roscommon). On past the imposing gates of Sennowe Hall and to a bridge across the Wensum by an equally imposing mill - a beautiful spot, but only one among many today.

From near Guestwick, the path joins the Marriott's Way, a good surface, and so we progressed with no danger from four-wheeled vehicles as far as Norwich, except through picturesque Reepham. Time ran out for us to visit "Masterpieces: Art and East Anglia" at UEA's Sainsbury Centre, let alone any of Norwich's churches, but the final lap was shorter than I had expected so there was time for a hot bath before dinner.

My photograph shows an elegant lady, posted as sentinel at allotments alongside the cycle path.

Gateley solicitors

This photograph shows my grandfather Arthur John Gateley, on the left, arm in arm with his brother (four years older), Stephen Joseph. They were the "Sons" of "Stephen Gateley & Sons", the solicitors firm established by their father Stephen Michael, with offices in Temple Row, Birmingham. The firm continues today with the family name intact, as I've mentioned before. Today would have been my grandfather's 130th birthday.

Martinů

We took our Japanese student lodger along to the Cheltenham Music Society's concert last night, at which the Martinů Quartet played - not Martinů, but Smetana, and also (as an encore) a scherzo from a quartet by the little known (here at least) František Škroup. This second part of their programme we generally thought preferable to the first: Mozart K.590 and Beethoven Op.135. Not that there was much wrong with, in particular, the Beethoven: it's just that - having heard the Takács last month - we are currently feeling spoilt where pieces in the mainstream repertoire are concerned.

The quartet's cellist reminded me of someone: when I woke up this morning, I realised who it was, seeing a photograph of Elizabeth Gateley, my great-grandmother as a young, rather severe-looking bride. Not a musical lady, though, at least so far as I know, and certainly not Czech.