Disposable Lamps and an Angel

Ooh, a long hiatus between blogs while three whole weeks were spent in England over Christmas to enjoy family seasonal celebrations, catch up with other dear family members, participate in the funeral of my first husband and finish with a lovely flourish on the annual family theatre outing on Jan 3rd. The funeral, while sad, was also a joyful celebration, echoed and magnified afterwards at his spiritual home of nearly fifty years, the Golf Club. Crowded and full of reminiscences, the wake was a delightful goodbye to a much loved person and one of which he would have definitely approved.

After lunch in Covent Garden we went to see The Play That Went Wrong at the Duchess, a charming little Victorian or perhaps Edwardian, theatre. Garlanded with an Olivier award, the farce proved to be eye-wateringly, guffawingly funny so that our group, aged from 14 to 81, all loved it. It was slapstick at its most brilliant with impeccable timing and peerless performances. We lurched, wiping our eyes and resting our faces, into the dark for a final communal drink and fond reminiscence

of the play's finer moments, nearby. I had decided to stay in London overnight and to the unknown delights of the Great Northern Hotel at St Pancras, I wandered. As this isn't Trip Advisor, I shall restrict myself to saying that I have found another place where I could happily live out my declining years! I now find I LOVE too many mirrors, thick carpets, obsequious staff, free champagne and chocolate. By the time for my Final Exit, I am pretty sure I shall have cracked Life; that is to say, I will know Effortlessly what works for me [without perhaps the ability to access it!]

A whole week after returning to base, and still no completed blog; discipline lacking a little perhaps here. I went into the centre to pick up a book I had ordered: Dutch for Dummies, which may well be pitched at my level. I intend to try to learn the language solo, gradually and at my dining table thus escaping the two compulsory three and a half hours evening shifts of last Autumn, bookended by a half hour slog on foot through wind and rain and darkness [I exaggerate only slightly] I shall miss the delightful young immigrants, all bravely pursuing their destinies with such energy and light-hearted optimism but am grateful to escape the many, many games and the total incomprehension of their Dutch.

However, do need to learn to speak Dutch, quite a different thing. After a search I found a Praatgroep, fronted by the delightful Zuster Noella who acts as a sort of receptionist. Only ten minutes walk away and part of a voluntary organisation called Integraal I think. So far, on Friday, I attended and to my delight, found a really small group on which I shall report later.

Quite sad to see the last of the Christmas market being disassembled as I strode across the Markt; all the magical trees and the skating rink had gone and the horse-drawn carriages were safely back in place, queuing for tourists. I decided, on a whim, to sample the Sales; January sales are Big  here. And thus found a new shop. Tuyttens an old-established computer, camera, phone store had, to general consternation, closed last Autumn after yet another burglary and its huge space is now filled with Juttu [You too], a Finnish name for a Belgian store. Brugge is second only to Antwerp in having a Juttu which may be in the process of the colonisation of Belgium.
It is seriously gorgeous; expensive in its thick, woolly, suitable-for-really-cold-weather, up-to-the-minute clothes for sale with a few smart accoutrements for the home available. Frankly it is possibly the most achingly hip joint I have ever patronised and I enjoyed every viewing minute. I bought a few tiny things for almost 60 euros but I am [importantly] now on their database! Sad to see the aged pointlessly pursuing a tiny bit of electronic status.

Having decided I should replace the side table lamps in the guest bedroom so that guests will be able actually to see to read, I ventured into D'Haenens, a mega lighting shop on four floors. From the enormous choice, sadly all not in any sale, I decided on two and just have to report the latest phenomenon to engage the ageing intellect. The assistant explained gently that the new concept 'made sense' and agreed that older customers were inclined to disbelief at this aforementioned good sense. I asked where I would buy a replacement bulb, after she had trumpeted the two year guarantee and the 50,000 LED hours available

and thus I learned that when the bulb [is it still called that?] dies, is finished, exists no more, there can be no replacement so the lamp itself is thrown away. Dear reader, I bought them after asking if any non-throwaway but similarly attractive lighting was around. It is, but  at around 500 euros each as opposed to the derisory 64 euros of my chosen ones. She didn't spell out  that, in a guest bedroom, the 50,000 hours of lighting before disposal, would probably see me out but I got the message from somewhere! There is something so vastly entertaining about the surrounding theatre of life that makes practically every day a Joy!

And the final triumphant note is sounded by my new musical Angel. He is something I didn't need but he now graces the top of my Georgian linen cupboard, once quite valuable, but now, in this IKEA world, worthless! I have bought him gradually, over several months, from income and thus got to know Lieven the interesting young man who owns the small shop crowded with statues, putti, crosses, candlesticks, wooden flourishes and generally fascinating old impedimenta, near the Burg. He showed me a recent addition to his stock; another recumbent wooden angel which I could have at one third reduction because of purchasing Number One. When I demurred, quoting lack of space he said loftily, 'There is always room for an angel'. And before I left, I was shown a shining, polished putto, magnificent in its 18th century glory but beyond reach at 5000 euros. My own may be late nineteenth century according to Lieven but kindness on his part probably means early twentieth

And finally, finally, the wonderful Blackbird [in Jan Van Eyckplein nearby] coffee shop with lunches and breakfasts and vast array of interesting teas thrown in, has won a  Hospitality Award for 2015 for the Best Coffee Shop in Belgium and the Most Friendly. I wrote about Blackbird soon after it opened in April because I was dazzled by its chic décor and then found what superb quality its coffee has, how yummy are the breakfasts, the apple pie, the iced teas .... I could go on. So, well done Blackbird.