Greetings
from my smaller world! That is, from the world inside my apartment;
going out is a tremendous effort so it is rare and only when necessary.
Yesterday to AZ Sint Jan, the hospital in Brugge for a check-up on
The Foot which, despite being much larger than normal, is healing
well. The image, left, is a reminder of the beauteous treachery of cobblestones for crutches; cobblestones, may I remind, are normally one of the most admired characteristics of Brugge, normally being the operative word.
I was
amused, while awaiting the surgeon's critical eye, to read in my
current New Statesman, that the Remain campaign in the UK is cribbing
from the Ireland same-sex referendum, the same strategy to win over
older women. Obviously, it goes without saying, that I am already a
huge supporter of Remain, feeling European to the core, but the
strategy is for young people, who back a Remain vote by large
margins, to 'Talk to Gran' by writing to, or emailing, their
grandmothers to encourage them to vote to stay in the E.U. [Research
shows that this approach does not work with elderly men!] I realise
that I haven't sounded out my grandchildren on Vote Leave/Remain so
am about to launch a free Listen to Gran emailing service to five
of the six grandchildren [No. 6 is only five years old and lives in
the U.S.A. at present] encouraging them a) to vote and b) to vote
Remain. Surely, this will be infallible!! Incidentally, en passant,
one does wonder why Jeremy Corbyn hasn't thrown his shoulder to the
EU Remain wheel with more passion. Being in Europe is part of voting
Labour, I think, but his tepid statements on Europe rather echo the
pale political performance he has exhibited so far.
And on
the topic of Europe, I was thrilled to see, on May 8 and
9, the European flag flying from the Belfort tower in
Brugge to celebrate the anniversary of the end of World War Two. Do
wonder if flag-flying featured in Blighty and if so, would it have
been the Union Jack or the much more appropriate flag of Europe
waving in the breeze? Interesting times.
Two
days after the hospital visit, an old friend of my husband's arrived.
Derek does a little month-long UK tour every year [from the Boston
area in the U.S.] which used to include Wye, where Eric and I lived,
but which also includes a trip to Germany to see old colleagues who
have become 'like family'. Since last year the German visit has
included Brugge for a long weekend. After one first dinner, prepared
with the aid of my now-beloved zimmer, we ate out nearby, with me
choosing crutches over the slightly lowly wheelchair as transport;
this was chiefly in deference to Derek's age [89] and the fact that
he had mentioned in another context, that he gets rather out of
breath going up small hills these days!
Felt
quite triumphant as we 'strolled' up Genthof to buy a newspaper and
drink a lengthy coffee at Blackbird, the award-winning coffee and
lunch place in Jan Van Eyckplein, about fifty metres away! Saturday
passed in an enjoyable haze of reading the Daily Telegraph, my usual
Saturday treat, [never thought I would write that!] reminiscing, drinking coffee and later, beer, sitting
on my sunny terrace and eventually, early evening, retracing steps
courtesy of the crutches beyond Blackbird a little way, to Trium, my
son-in-law's favourite pasta place. In my present state, this passes
as a whirl of activity.
And
another was to follow on Sunday when we tottered down Genthof towards
the canal, to Terrastje, tucked into a corner facing the canal and
where we were warmly welcomed by Ian [ a Brit] and Patricia [Dutch
with perfect English] Derek and I had a marvellous sort of fish stew
called Waterzooi with a Brugse Zot, a local beer and returned home
for a short rest before partially re-tracing our steps to the Galerie
Pinsart which had a vernissage on Sunday afternoon for a water colour
artist called Sigrid Tanghe. There was an introductory viol recital
by Gunda Gottschalk which was loudly applauded but which I found not
to my taste. Loved the paintings which were rather dreamy,
insubstantial echoes of images, strange and touching at the same
time. Right is Sigrid Tanghe's Deerwoman, Hertenvrouw, which is sooo enigmatic and touches the soul.
And so to home and for me, post-crutches fatigue, while Derek
valiantly re-packed for perhaps the twentieth time since leaving home
a month before.
After
he had left next morning early, I thought about the past three days
and how we had managed to carpe diem pretty well in spite of ageing
and surgery. That motto, Carpe diem, my motto in fact since my husband died, surfaced again in my mind when I
learned later that day that a friend in Brugge, a couple of years
younger than I, had died after suffering a catastrophic brain
haemorrhage on Saturday.
Below is another shot of my newly-acquired Innocence
to remind of the wisdom of Seizing The Moment.
m
