It is difficult to get away from politics at any time, and to the
dedicated follower of political fashion in British and American
governments, one who can’t resist tuning in to hear, or read about,
the political shenanigans in London and Washington, interest is even higher than normal. First there is the impending Trump impeachment proceedings with the unbelievably hostile political partisanship and the denial, or inversion, of telephone calls, heard and recorded and available to all interested listeners. Media reports record staggering levels of duplicity among politicians and point to an almost 50-50 support for, or against, Trump’s guilt among the American population.
 |
| Dominic Cummings, the unelected eminence grise behind Boris. |
Meanwhile in Britain, the stage moves from tragedy to farce with Boris [a supposedly more intelligent version of Trump] beseeching the public to “Bung a bob for Big Ben Brexit bongs” wherein he asked for crowdfunding for the inordinately expensive sounding of Big Ben on January 31st when the UK
begins the actual journey of separating from the E.U. Big Ben is at
present undergoing extensive and prolonged renovation and the cost of
a brief re-instatement would be estimated at around £500,000. Brexit
supporters noisily favour a triumphant blast, bells and whistles and
all, as we cast off from European shores [when, in fact, nothing much will
happen for the general public]. But triumphalism is hardly the ticket
for the millions who sorely regret Brexit. Boris’s recent handsome
election win mainly united the pro-Brexit vote in the country; in
fact a small majority of voters supported parties that wanted either
a second referendum on Brexit or to scrap it altogether. And the deep
suspicion about the desire for making a cacophony of sound on January
31 [ at 11.00 p.m by the way; midnight in Europe of
course!] among the Europhiles in the UK is that the whole Brexit saga
seems motivated by nostalgia for the long-lost British Empire and the
warm glow of colonialism remembered. Bring back the blue passport and
that splendid pith helmet!.
 |
And, I forgot to add, the annual visit of Carnival-in-Venice
in procession through the town. Like exotic birds of Paradise. |
Meanwhile, in beloved Brugge, the low-key life goes on. Since I
returned from the UK on January 6th, there were Christmas
trees by the forest awaiting collection one morning; significant work
of uprooting cobbles and re-laying them with new pipes laid below,
begun on the Burg with the huge and handsome conservatory-cum-glazed
terrace outside Tom Pouce, temporarily ‘disappeared’; quite a
number of coffee houses and restaurants closed for a fortnight’s
holiday, plus my much-loved bakery, Sint Paulus on Vlaamingstraat
similarly out of action; this looks financial good sense in view of
the blessedly-reduced number of tourists and visitors here; the
extensive work on Katelijnestraat of, again, new pipe-laying
continuing with the road often closed to motorised traffic though the
bicycle [King of the Road here] is permitted. The market was restored
last Wednesday to the Markt after a late switch to ‘t Zand the
previous week; the lateness of the change as late as Tuesday evening
for the stall holders but with no notices as to its whereabouts
publicised on the chalet-filled Markt. By the time I had guessed
where it must be, I had run out of time before my semi-sacred 11.00
coffee spot at Hotel Martins in Oude Burg. So Proxy it had to be; not
at all the same as going to ‘my’ huge stall!! Still, normality
was restored last week, a comforting sensation!!
There have been some glorious technicolour skies and this morning was
misty, moisty, mysterious in the approved Bruges-la-Morte manner!!
The Belfort eventually appeared from the swirling haze visible from
my windows, around mid-day! Each morning I trudge willingly in the
dark to the Crown Plaza Hotel to swim, feeling undeniably virtuous as
I return home for breakfast. The view on my windswept, gaunt terrace
has been wonderfully brightened after a lovely visitor last week
brought me three huge Christmas Roses [Hellebores] in bloom to join
the one I already had, arranged tastefully on the outside steps. The
pleasure afforded by an outside terrace, even in dark days, is
immeasurable! And it reminds of the beauty to come. And a thoughtful and generous neighbour brought me back from Antwerp, two sheaves of tulips growing directly from individual bulbs. This is a wonder unknown to me but apparently familiar to Proper Gardeners. The effect is miraculously natural, as if the flowers are still growing in the fields. Clever people, the Dutch!!
