Blogadoodledo!

And now to end the silence on the blog front, self-imposed because of pressure of other activities.

April 27^th operation on left foot with normal walking expected to resume in two to three months. SO now equipped with wheelchair, zimmer and crutches plus huge special protective boot. From an overnighter in hospital, to De Haan, an absolutely charming little seaside town, for revalidatie, or convalescence. The home is in the middle of the delightful Art Deco area of the town and Dunepanne [the home] is super; chic, elegant, with lovely food and staff. So why did I cut and run [metaphorically speaking] six days after arrival instead of staying for the whole fortnight I had booked? 'Twas boredom, dear reader. Fifty residents, all recovering from something, and amiable in the extreme, but fluent Dutch and some

fluent French meant conversation for me was a tad limited though good intentions and interest were there aplenty. Virtually no wi-fi in the bedrooms but centred in the bar, where it was variable, meant I did feel a little frustrated at my inability to send and receive messages though no other resident minded much as only one other appeared to have an Ipad though one younger man homed in on the single computer every morning during his few days there.

So after the compulsory visit to the hospital in Brugge, I came home with a darling ambulance man who waited for me for over an hour and a half at A Z Sint Jan's and then carried up my case and made sure I was home and dry. DO like the health service here; one pays, modestly, then has around three quarters re-imbursed, with quick and efficient medical service. Once home, I tottered around the flat on the zimmer looking and checking, then through to the terrace and it was just the best feeling to be back. I put on a CD and sat lounging, absorbing the sights and sounds both in the flat and outside, on the terrace and in Woensdagmarkt. It was rejuvenating and nourishing neither of which the alternative had been.

A couple of days later, son David arrived to do my bidding!

Always a treat to have the luxury of an adult child alone staying, however lovely the partner. For the last week until three days ago, I was able to go out with him, shopping for stuff for the terrace, going out to lunch, attending a concert, going to the bank, though occasionally felt ridiculous being wheeled around prior to the fumbling and hopping around involved with crutches. I especially enjoyed a day in Damme, about four kilometres up the canal, though we went by car on the road adjacent to the water. First, there was the monthly seasonal Book Fair on Damme market from where I have bought several books in the past few months. Had an interesting chat with one stall holder who had retired from running a large print shop and, loving books, started to sell them to fund the acquisition of his five grand-children's sports gear! Then came the journey to find a restaurant with a space for two; many, most, were booked up it being a Sunday and the weather blissfully inviting. We eventually found a pavement-side place and enjoyed a super meal with a local beer new to me. [Name has escaped due to lack of pre-organisation, that is, I had forgotten to pack the usual pen and little notebook in the excitement of Going Out.]

After lunch to Damme church for an afternoon mandolin orchestra concert, conducted by friend Luc.

We had time to look around the exhibits in the church, a small part of a large exhibition in Damme, before the excellent concert, and I enjoyed again the lovely, haunting faces by Nadine Callebaut whose work I had come across in a previous exhibition in the Belfort last year. Yet another artist whose exquisite paintings are out of my reach, not an existential condition suffered by the likes of Victoria Beckham one assumes. But, c'est la vie Averil!

 

The major exhibition, Madammen in Damme, included works by more than 50 artists exhibited in eleven different locations in what is effectively a pocket-sized village [stunningly beautiful too] and we visited only four as the effort was considerable! But it was enough to judge the range of works from relatively modestly-talented artists to many at the opposite end of the talent continuum. 

After the concert, David manfully pushed me around to several spots looking to find the sculptures of Annie Vanlerberghe after whose work I have lusted for several years! Her sculptures are increasingly in bronze and thus too expensive for me to buy but one can have dreams! 

 

Eventually the gorgeous green space of the garden of Kristoffelhoeve was discovered and I swung my way around Annie's exhibits which did not disappoint. Interestingly, among the desirable bronzes were three terracotta statues and I lingered long, balancing on the crutches, pondering, my nose quivering slightly like the pointer in search of prey. In the end I bought one of the three and felt excited that I had done so, experiencing quite a little burst of personal power as opposed to the comparatively undignified powerlessness of the invalid state!! So this acquisition is not only about art appreciation but also about reasserting my independence, I suppose!