And now
to end the silence on the blog front, self-imposed because of pressure of other
activities.
April
27th 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!
