 |
| Damse Vaart |
A small
and delightful discovery, courtesy of a friend born in Brugge. Went
for a lovely rural walk in the Fort Van Beieren area, outside the
centre and near the Damse Vaart, the Napoleonic canal built to
replace the Oud Zwin watercourse which had silted up. I don’t
notice that I have missed the regular rural walks around Wye where I
used to live, in Kent, but it was certainly recuperative and
restorative to wander beneath tall trees and stumble over a grassy
patch dotted with large, fresh mushrooms. Quite reminded me of
childhood when picking blackberries and finding mushrooms were
seasonal forced tasks, partially resented because they tended to
occur very early Sunday mornings and were closely supervised by a
finely-observant father [eating blackberries while picking were not
allowed], but partially enjoyed because of the eventual fruits of the
forest to be enjoyed at home. My mother’s blackberry and apple pies
were to die for!
A notable occurrence
in Flanders this last Sunday and Monday of July, was the
BBC-orchestrated memorial services at Tyne Cot and Ypres. I didn’t
go; difficult without a car but the events, shown on TV, were moving
and poignant. As observed before, the memories of the First World War
seem more deeply held, more locally plaintive here, no doubt because
Flanders was the hideously war-torn theatre of war and many families
have ancestors, civilians and servicemen who died, often
tragically young, and in large numbers. Normal life ceased in places
like Ypres for four long years and family narratives are
long-lasting, influential and heartfelt.
I did reflect, after this heartfelt weekend that a golden opportunity had been missed to include in an important and equal way, German representatives too. This ideal is inherent in the concept of the European Union.
 |
| Café/restaurant at Fort Van Beieren |
 |
| Tyne Cot The Northumberland Fusiliers saw resemblances between German pillboxes on site in WW1 and typical Tyneside workers' cottages. Area liberated by Belgian forces in September 1918. |
I read
a poignant little story about a memorial to a lost Welsh poet, Hedd
Wyn, who won a poetry competition in a National Eisteddfod with
his The Hero. He was not there to collect the honour as
he had died in Flanders’ fields a few weeks before; the ceremonial
bard’s chair was accordingly draped in black cloth. Ellis Humphrey Evans had taken the bardic name, Hedd Wyn, Blessed Peace, after he achieved some poetic success. He was a Christian pacifist and a shepherd/farmer before World War One.
 |
| Hedd Wyn's grave |
Every first Monday of the month up to 100 locals gather in the Sportsman bar, just off the main road from Ypres to Langemark, West Flanders to hold a simple ceremony in memory of Hedd Wyn who died across the road on the first day of the Battle of Passchendaele which began at 3.50 on the morning of July 31st, 1917. Marc Decaestecker, the owner of the bar, has created a little shrine in one corner. A charming story of a continuing tribute to one man, a pacifist and poet, and a tiny link between Flanders and Wales, two small nations, part of bigger countries, still trying hard to preserve their individual cultures.
Friday August 4th is the start of the MA Festival, the very reason which brought Eric originally to Brugge about forty years ago and which, in turn, brought me here for the first time in 1989. MA Festival is a feast of early music [Musica Antiqua] and we always went to every concert in the mornings and the 20.00 slot plus afternoon rehearsals for the competitions. Late night concerts, starting around 22.00, we attended sometimes if not too weary with all the music and extra enjoyment of Brugge. Now I avoid the Late Night ones which I regret missing but cannot guarantee full attention for, and I find the Full Monty otherwise is quite challenging. I don’t want to miss other activities I enjoy normally, in Brugge, so there is a judgment to be made and I now miss a concert to play the much-loved weekly Mah Jong, for instance. Every year a group of friends from Germany, the Cologne Mafia as we say, give a lunch for all of a little circle of concert friends from Germany, Holland and Belgium. They rent an apartment with a lovely little garden which lends itself to a splendid sort of picnic. My own lunches have now transmogrified into Brunch which is not only fashionable but also Much Easier to prepare. And, given a spot of sunshine and a following wind, there is the terrace to luxuriate in!
 |
| Desolation at Passchendaele 1917 This is one important reason for the support of my generation for membership of the E.U. |
