Thursday 7th December 2017

I wake at half seven after my phone alarm had failed to go off. I had a meeting in half an hour, and during that the first in the long line of visitors would appear, now needed all the more to enable Mum to live at home and not in a home.

I have a shower and go to see Mum, she had had a poor night, not much sleep and woke with no appetite, other than to have a coffee, and the put the radio on and ask a series of questions. Most important was the fact the Daily Mirror had not been delivered. She knows how to use the phone, and the owner of the corner shop a five minute walk away says he will drop it round.

I am in the first meeting of the day when Jackie, Mum's new carer comes round, takes Mum to have a wash and get her ready for the day. No breakfast needed, and her old night shirt put in the washing machine. Mum has all things to hand that she needs, thus making any movement out of her chair unnecessary. This is going to do her no favours in the long run. She had wanted me to make a coffee, but I had no time before my meeting started so I said I would do it when the meeting ended. This was when it became clear to both of us that being a carer and working did not mix. I could not give her the care she feels she needs, and I was too busy, and thinking all the time that maybe if she tried to do it herself such things would be easier.

It set the tone for the day.

I have lots to do with work, and little time for her. She feels a little ignored I'm sure, but it was the way. And the fact that she was unwilling to do anything for herself meant that I had come to a decision: I would say I would go home Friday instead of Saturday, as I am hyper-critical of when she does, or doesn't do anything I don't like, and she needs to re-arrange her house to make it liveable. I said for Mum to think of this and we would talk it over in the evening.

I have a huge meeting at half ten, and that goes on for over an hour, but I am excused and allowed to leave early, just as well as the district nurse had arrived than they were discussing Mum's health issues, of which Mum seemed only too keen to brush over. "You're diabetic too, Mum" Only just she replied. Well on the board above every bed you were these last three months it stated you were diabetic, not "slightly" diabetic. Oh its diet controlled the nurse asked? Oh yes, says Mum. By shortbread says I. Either the truth is faced or nothing will ever change.

I make Mum dinner and get ready her dinner which she is supposed to be able to microwave for her evening meal. I leave the house to catch the three o'clock train to Norwich as I am meeting Jools, as it turns out, after many twists and turns, we will make the concert that evening after all. I wait for the train at Outlon Broad North, and take a deep breath, I have been living on nerves for two days, and I am exhausted.

The train arrives and I get in to look out on the right hand side to catch a glimpse of my old house on Hall Road, but now the trees in the ham are so big, it was hard to see, even in the winter. Further along, out on Oulton Marshes, I saw Herons, swans, pink footed geese and much other wildlife, always something to see, even in the depth of winter.

At Norwich, I realise I have had nothing to eat sine breakfast, so treat myself to a "Boxing Day" pasty, filled with turkey, sausage and bacon. It was fine, and the coffee I had too tasted like nectar.On platform 4, a pair of 37s topped and tailed a set of three mark 3 carriages, and I wait until departure time, enjoying the ruble and growl as the two locos move their train out of the station, the noise echoing off the glass roof.

I walk out of the station and cross the road to walk up Prince of Wales road, turning right into Tombland, past the cathedral gates, then up exploring before turning down Elm Hill, to snap the scene of the steep cobbled street lined with timber-framed houses and shops, as dusk settled on the scene, the lights inside shining out a warm and welcoming light.

Back up the hill, and down towards the station to wait for Jools to arrive; she is within an hour of the city, so I get a pint at the Compleat Angler opposite the station, and wait. Sports news on the TV and the seats behind me filled with women who lunch, who have lunched and onto their third or forth bottle of Prosecco. here is much laughter and stumbling about.

Time passes.

Jools arrives and I tell her where I am, as soon as she joins me, I finish my beer and we go to the Italian place opposite for dinner, as she hasn't eaten much either. Antipasto followed by freshly prepared pasta with seafood. Not bad, not that good either, but it will do.

And once we have drunk our coffees and eaten the tiramisu, it is time to walk to The Waterfront for the gig.

Peter Hook used to be bass player in New Order, but the other three fell out and somehow kicked Peter out. He now has his own band, The Light, and they do three hours shows on New Order and Joy Division songs. Back in 1981, I had the chance to see a very early version of New Order play in Norwich, at the time they were renowned for starting late and finishing much later. Next day was my Maths exam. It wouldn't have made that much difference, but in the end I chose an early night, and the chance passed.

Two years ago we were going to see Peter and The Light in Brighton, but a long week working away and an early start to get home had made the two hour drive on a Friday night unappealing, and I decided not to go. And so we are here, in Norwich, planned last April, when we did not know how the year would pan out, and it would be an evening away from home. We did not think we were going to make it, not until we knew Mum was going to be released; Jools had time off work, and I would be up here. So we decided to try to make it.

Which is why we were stood outside the hall from five to seven, on a frosty night, waiting for the doors to be opened. Once in at half past, they took away my DSLR, but I had to compact in my pocket! I could collect the big boy later. We took up a position two rows from the front, all standing of course, and me just wanting the one shot for the blog.

Just gone eight the band came on, launching into their New Order set, playing he singles in chronological order, meaning Ceremony was second track, and the joy of the moment made me cry tears of unbridled joy.

An amble through their hots of the 80s, causing me and others my age go misty eyed and sing along, shout along, to the familiar songs. Younger folks jumped and screamed, Hooky played like the bass monster he is.

What a night.

After a gap of ten minutes, they came back for the Joy Division set, building up through their spiky punk period, to the berlakness of Unknown Pleasures and CLoser to the inevitable climax of Dead Souls, Transmission, Atmosphere and Lover Will Tear us Apart.

As the final bars of Love Will Tear us Apart fades, we leave, claiming Jools' handbag and my camera, walking through the deserted Riverside to the car park, paying "20 for five hours parking, getting in the car and driving to the exit and out onto the empty streets.

The Lowestoft Road was quiet, so we cruise at 60, enjoying the clear, cold and starry night, with the half full waning moon still shining bright above. We get home at quarter to midnight, Mum is still up, and pleased to see us. She still sleeps in her chair, which is her choice, so after Jools and I sharing a cider, we go to bed. Sleeping in slightly nicotine stained bedding, just wanting to go home and get our life back.