Two in one

 Last week's blog was going to be quite short and it was ready except for one or two details I wanted from someone else. As I waited for their arrival I played about with pictures, rather obsessively to be truthful; putting one in, removing it and trying another. I did this a number of times, and the last time I clicked Remove to zap the image, rather unsportingly, the entire text-with-pics disappeared. Couldn't retrieve it and retired in the face of superior forces.

SO this week, will try to remember some of last week's topics as well as this week's, the whole exercise made much easier on account of the fact that my activities, other than the Nederlands course, having shrunk in the face of the reduced energy available. I want to be a student but think I may lack a little of the stamina necessary!!

First, I totally omitted to mention the wonderful stork which Michele and I saw in Sluis; it was perched in a huge nest, atop a branch-less, tall tree trunk among the busy crowds and stalls of the Brocante below. It never deigned even to look down, only into the nest where there were young ones I think, or into the wide blue yonder. It was implacably on duty for hours and hours, studiously ignoring the multitude, the noise, the colours, the unceasing movement of the crowd below. It was magnificent, regal one might say. One wondered at the position of the nest; it looked steady but it was improbably high and possibly precarious, without external supports. But that judgement is obviously from a non-stork viewpoint; the stork itself appeared nonchalant about security.

A week ago exactly, the group of Bruges residents with whom I meet every week to speak English in a nearby bistro had quite a treat. John, a member, spoke about his fascinating hobby; he paints faux marbre and he had brought along various large pieces of substantial paper on which he had painted a number of examples. We were all impressed and I particularly loved them. They were so skillful; he has been painting them for around six years having received tuition, as an apprentice originally, from an experienced artist. John is now really accomplished and must spend hours involved in following this creative pastime. He showed us examples of different marble he has painted: Carrera; Yellow Siena; Sea Green; Grand Antique. He sent several pictures as examples of the effect of faux marbre painted on objects. 

I am very tempted to ask him to paint the handsome fireplace in my study, presently a lovely Farrow and Ball pale sludge; it would look fab in faux marbre but I hesitate. The flat is rented, not owned by me, and who knows if the owner would be happy with a tenant exercising more power than she, in fact, has? Perhaps not!

This week, apart from lessons, I have been to the tandarts, the dentist, who is superbly efficient BUT for whom I wait at least half an hour after my due appointment. I have so far lacked the courage to arrive late, just in case …. Visits to the doctor's are similar but worse in the wait; a no appointment system and usually anything from an hour to two to hang about! But that is something else! From the dentist, late, I hastened across town, [another twenty five minutes walking] to have tea at a house owned by one of the members of the coffee group which meets in the Hotel Martin in Oude Burg every Wednesday. There were four of us, one having left as I was an hour late in arriving. As so often in Brugge, rather ordinary-looking houses which open directly from the street, repay further investigation. This house is splendid with the feel of a venerable country house, rather baronial in its fireplace and air of quiet history; oil paintings and other treasures on the walls and a dark library light, lit up at the far end with a large window giving on to a truly delightful garden. Heaven. Didn't even think to ask if I could take a photograph or two but may do if I am invited again. We sat in the garden, table laden with cakes and cups, sheltered by high walls and a vine, and rather pitied the husband who works all week in London although I hear that he believes he has the best of both worlds!

And this morning, Saturday, to town twice as I instinctively went out around 9.00 a.m. forgetting quite that only the bakery, the Post Office and the supermarket would be open, regular shops opening at 10.00 a.m. Eventually, all errands accomplished, Daily Telegraph bought [once a week treat, the Guardian being unavailable here] on an impulse into Blackbird in the Jan Van Eyckplein nearby, for a coffee, a little read of the paper and to refresh my memory of the lovely décor there. Then home to revise for an exam next Tuesday followed on Thursday by a spoken test and Freedom at the end of Friday morning as the Dutch course finishes!

Broke off from the student mode to catch the Brugge Triatlon beginning at 17.15 from Sasplein, not too far from where I live. All households had received a substantial leaflet giving chiefly details of available parking and of the numerous roads closed. But I did discover that it was a Kwarttriatlon [so easier then] consisting of a 1000 metre swim in the canal; a 45 kilometre cycle ride and a 10 kilometre run which sounds Not Very Easy to me. There were crowds waiting for, then watching, the staggered start:

And more watchers lining the route, cheering friends and family members in the water; indeed, as the first tranche lined up for the start, several of the swimmers were to be seen waving optimistically to friends on the sidelines. It was a really well-organised event with about a dozen men in wet-suits in the water at strategic points as life guards plus a speed boat in the wings, so to speak.. I was impressed to see the potential life-savers more than half an hour before the start, in position in the canal. Rather like the recent Triennale opening, crowds of volunteer helpers feature prominently in the successful organisation which is anything but amateur.

The crowds were on the canal-side watching the cyclists and the first 20 or 30 received cheers and hand claps and encouraging shouts which died away as numbers increased and groups of cyclist whizzed by. I didn't wait to find the subsequent road run; I had spoken to a lovely policeman [SO different from our own dear policemen in his linguistic ability! I heard French, English, Dutch.] earlier who said that some entrants, at least, were groups of three with a swimmer, a cyclist and a runner taking part. I lacked the tenacity to remain longer and study called, though I WAS diverted en route home, to the crowded Terrastje cafe-bar tucked into the corner of Genthof and Langerei, for a beer and a chat with mine hosts, Ian [English] and Patricia [Dutch].

It is now Sunday morning and I can hear, behind the insistent bells, the sound of a marching band somewhere near; obviously more entertainment is afoot and I smile to myself at the plethora of 'things' going on in Brugge. It is a huge tourist centre and would be popular without making much of an effort anyway, because of the wonderful art and mostly mediaeval architecture set in narrow cobbled streets. But the town authorities and others make considerable and creative attempts to present interesting cultural events in the summer period which no doubt entertain tourists but which also add so much to the social and intellectual life of the residents.

But speaking of entertainment for the tourists, on my way to my late tea at the lovely house on Friday, I stopped, albeit fleetingly, as I passed through the Burg where there are virtually Always Entertainers. Could not resist a photo or three of a little family of jugglers and tumblers in chic black and white, with the composure and skill of circus artists. DID want to stay longer.