Wednesday 8 April 2015

Long Pause

Cannot possibly be a month since I last posted, can it? Oh the shame of having to admit that I haven't had time or energy to spare; but there are reasons or perhaps, excuses. First I had to return to England for almost a week. Initially to retire, formally, at the Jane Austen Kent Branch AGM, from the Chair and then, my brother's funeral eventually came to rest in the same week. This had had to be postponed because the Coroner's office in Nottingham was behind schedule in the post mortem stakes so the body could not be guaranteed for the first funeral date. Mine not to ask [though I did] why a post mortem was necessary for a man of 94 who had spent the last two weeks of his life in hospital. Apparently it, his death, came under the heading of Unexpected. I do savour the idea of an unexpected death at nearly 95. Dear old boy, so contrary in life and so contumacious  in death. He would have loved the fuss and the fact that about three dozen of the extended family managed to turn up at the church and thoroughly enjoy the subsequent feast and fun. Think he would have also loved the presence of several of his sisters' grandchildren, especially four year old Genevieve who brought along Reg the Rabbit, named in honour of her great uncle.

The Jane Austen day was fab too with generosity of spirit and in gift, very evident. I'm not sure if it was the amount of week-long talking and travelling and/or the excessive cold at beloved Goodnestone [in Kent; Google it you duffers.] but I finished the Saturday 21st March colder than I ever knew it possible and more tired than Methuselah...[ I am assuming excessive fatigue with excessive age!] Sunday from Margaret's to Clare and Steve's for a last lovely stay before returning home, and still sooooo tired and prone to cold. Details best left unsaid but most of the following week I 'rested', unexpectedly exhausted. One branch of the family arrived on the Sunday and by the following Sunday, Easter Sunday, had departed and made way for a short stay en route home by another branch. Lovely time was had, apartment duly admired and washing etc done subsequent to each departure. I am still dreaming of a cleaning person if only to master the damned vacuum cleaner which is so easy, instant and highly recommended that I can't see how to detach to empty in spite of demo a few days ago from younger daughter.

Which brings me pretty well up to date and the excitement du jour is the Installation of one light fitting this morning and delivery of lots of others, ready to be fitted on Friday. My lumiere truly shineth. But I can't omit mention of The Brocante of which I meant to write before the departure for funeral and celebration etc.  Et voila, [below] a photo of the wonderful double table display opposite the stall I set up for two days [Sat: 8.00-18.00; Sun 10.00-18.00. Phew!] in the Beurshalle not far from 't Zand. [One day I shall perfect the technique of fixing the wretched illustration/image where I want it.] I wanted to sell pictures, loads of which used to adorn the walls of my house in Wye but which I don't feel I can display here AND remain friends with the owner of my flat, an architect who is slightly neurotic about holes in walls. Selling things which do not interest most people is certainly a shade humbling but there were pluses.


Made friends with the girl who makes her living from the stall opposite and her sister-in-law, an elegant 80 year old whom I shall see again; also made mute but tactile friends with a Mrs Pepperpot lookalike and her angular husband on the next stall. They were endlessly cheerful and friendly but only spoke Dutch. Each of the two days I gave Mrs P one of my pictures in return for which I received copious hugs and several kisses. Should admit here that it was expediency disguised as altruism. In the end I took almost 200 euros but, alas, spent around 400, finance not being my prime motivator. Photographs of my two impressive purchases to follow! No time now; slow in achieving much today after my first Night Out. Met up last evening, with a party of 17 Crundale Gardeners who were en route to the bulb fields of Holland; we had a super dinner and what could be described as 'animated conversation'. Splendid time was had, though they either drank wine or water to my puzzlement, Belgian beer being sans pareil, as my usual Duvel testified.