Crutches on cobblestones

Not so easy to write a blog when most of the time I am alone in my apartment. What do I do? Occasional bursts of studying Dutch! Quite frequent reading of War and Peace by Tolstoy, bought for post-operative therapy almost as a joke and a delight to discover that I don't want to put it down! Tolstoy is verbose, dwells rather too lingeringly on War, and on Freemasonry, and has lengthy

 Leo Tolstoy

discursive  deliberations on various facets of the period and subjects which interest him, BUT his narrative is compelling and his characterisation, superb. Unbelievably, after five weeks with only four of those weeks in his company and I am around halfway through the 1360+ pages, and painlessly too. More than that; I really enjoy his prose.

 

Nazi Brown-shirts in 1933 enforcing a boycott of Jewish stores

In addition to War & Peace, I have The Final Solution by David Cesarini, recently bought after a rave review in the New Statesman. Slightly taken aback when it arrived, to discover that it is over 1000 pages long though the narrative itself runs only to around 800. It is the story of the Jews in Germany from 1933 to 1949 and, though early days, it is riveting and incredibly informative. I had long wondered why German Jews didn't heed the dire warning signs before the onset of World War Two and now I realise how diffuse were the laws, and the official reactions, the apparent indecisions of the government set against the rampant anti-Semitic sentiments of the Nazis on the streets and in the ordinary population, especially in rural areas, released and encouraged deliberately

by the state which intermittently pulled back on its worst excesses as these negatively influenced everyday commerce. The author, David Cesarini, died during the publication process of this book but he has left a work of profound scholarship on, and insight into, what he called his 'reappraisal' of Hitler's Final Solution.

 Timeless Jan Van Eyckplein

Saturday, with friend and neighbour Michele, to buy a newspaper and to drink coffee and chat, not at Blackbird, in Jan Van Eyckplein, which had no room for us, but at the coffee place nearby. This proved to be first class and we sat long and discussed much on various topics including the UK Referendum which originally seemed to me to be an unnecessary sop to Cameron's right wing and which is backfiring anyway as the Conservative Party tears itself apart in increasingly bitter recriminations. It is such a gamble; the UK cannot afford the possibility of a quasi-economic wasteland if it casts itself off the moorings of the E.U. But I know so many people who really believe it is worthwhile going it alone because of the bureaucracy and because it actually believes that immigration is a) bad and b) Brexit will reduce numbers. Madness to put at risk a reasonably successful economy. It is amusing anyway, to hear commentators in favour of Brexit, like the boss of Witherspoon's, on Radio Four this morning, stumbling as he tried to find explicit examples of the alleged bureaucracy. There will be some but they do not seem as universal as the popular mythology suggests and so what? Remaining within the EU means fighting for change from a stronger position within, instead of waving, powerless, from outside.

And so, via continuing physiotherapy, to Tuesday's funeral for a certain friend's untimely death. There was a slight air of bewilderment that it was her funeral anyway, this healthy, lively 80 year old who cheerfully rode her bike everywhere and seemed to have lots of energy. A small crowd gathered at the Brugge Crematorium which is a most tranquil and green place to end one's journey. The service, put together by her three daughters, was really a sweet loop of memories from the family with several short apt readings by friends which would have been greatly enjoyed by the subject of the tributes! Afterwards, in her light-filled house, there was talk and laughter with the food and wine and an enchanting eight year old grandson 'handing round' plates and glasses in an impressively mature way. The best thing I heard was the slight boast of the home-schooled young man, that he had thirty three friends.

The funeral and wake afterwards, followed the three hour appearance of my much-missed cleaning girl, not seen since early March and hugely welcome. Thus, Tuesday was a particularly special day for the Physically Challenged One. And Wednesday even better; for an Xray then a final examination by the surgeon who gave me the go ahead to try to walk as much as possible. The final flourish was to board the No 13 bus to town and walk what seemed the endless distance from near the Stadtheater on Vlamingstraat home. I took the precaution of telling the driver when I would want to get off and asked him to give me plenty of time with the crutches! He did; the Bruggean bus drivers are marvellous!

Since then, out to lunch on Thursday at Trium on Academiestraat nearby and quite a long walk to the Biekorf, the Library to read The Times. An hour's rest and off across the square to the Oud Huis Amsterdam to meet some of the Thursday English group; always a real pleasure. This was a Busy Day for anyone  physically-challenged!