Moving Forward.

One glorious view from our seats in the 
Oud Huis Amsterdam last Thursday.

Mah Jong on the terrace.

 I have had quite a week with a game of Petanque for three, on Tuesday; coffee with around ten of the ‘girls’ on Wednesday on the terrace of Kaffee Kamiel; Mah Jong for seven on Thursday on my terrace; six of the old group in the garden together at Oud Huis Amsterdam in Genthof; and lunch with my neighbour on the terrace of Bistro de Schilder on Jan Van Eyckplein on Saturday. Truly, my cup runneth over with this sudden restoration of old habits. And the terrace is looking good to add icing to the cake; Danny Boy, my lovely Portuguese friend came by this morning to help with the transplanting of a huge gerbera I bought a week ago. In other words, to do the deed himself! I stood back, as advised, while Daniel did the deed. Maddeningly, the newly-acquired extra age frailty meant that I just couldn’t manage it alone. He was great; gerbera re-homed effortlessly and a gorgeous fuschia swapped out of too much sun with a Solanum in too much shade. To add lustre, Daniel then swept up the mess. I have pondered as to WHY I find it so difficult to ask for help. Think it is because that entails a whole change of self-image; from One Who Helps to One Who Seeks Help. Honestly, the little extra unseen, unexpected, unsought but undeniable aspects of climbing the upper slopes of ageing, can be quite hard to recognise and accept. BUT I am en route!!

Gerberas present but not flamboyantly so, in this photo!
Statue boy dances on, regardless.

I have also wondered if I should consider returning home, i.e. to the UK, at some point, perhaps after my 90^th. The trouble is the huge pleasure I have in living where I now live! My apartment, large and spacious and sunny, suits me perfectly, especially when family and friends can visit again. The last time that happened was January 2020! Since then I have lived here, chiefly in a Lockdown hermitage, a not unpleasant state in principal and in practice, decidedly benign. My terrace remains a joy, a focus of effort it is true, but also of leisure reading and writing, plus an enveloping aesthetic delight. Can I contemplate giving up all of this to go back to an England I have always loved?! It is not, in essence, a Big Ask! Actually, whatever I decide to do, I know I will always achieve without regret! In that I am lucky. But I suddenly remember the right to euthanasia, a very useful tool to have in the back pocket, in case of emergency or necessity. Oh dear, so much to consider!!

This photo is nothing to do with this blog 
BUT a glorious Flemish eccentricity is at work
in my local bakery. It never fails to amuse me
that in addition to what is effectively an
excellent delicatessen counter, a choice of 
three gins is now for sale.

Slightly distant view of the unfinished
Bruges Diptych on Goudenhandrei
reflecting on its fate.
Jan Van Eyck lived near this spot.

Looking further afield, the Bruges Diptych on Goudenhandrei Number Three on the Triennale list, is STILL not completely built with no clue as to why. It is, so far, a compact house silhouette in wood, with planks of virgin wood awaiting incorporation into the finished edifice. It does occur to the casual wanderer, that a family of refugees could make a great home there once a roof was installed. In the meantime, I hear that litter pickers-up are actively sought by Dirk de fauw, the burgemeister, to embellish the efforts of the usual municipal crew. My neighbour has enlisted and has an esoteric collection of bags, gloves, labels to aid her worthy efforts. This is a super effort at community involvement in a necessary, low level endeavour which can only burnish brighter the image of Brugge.
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