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 This is not a blog; more a signpost to say that my Bruges Blogs are now complete. Finished, as is my lovely period of living in Brugge.

Follow my further adventures and discoveries in Bury St Edmunds at:

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Partire e un po' morire [To leave is to die a little]

 

 

Some of the Amsterdam group in January.

 The last weeks in Brugge seemed to be a continuing carousel of coffee, drinks, lunches, meetings and goodbyes! I enjoyed it all in spite of the bustle and concentration and despite saying Au revoir to friends who had been so important to me during my seven years’ sojourn in that lovely little town-which-thinks-it-is-a-city!! It was lovely but sad though, even so, I was looking forward to life in Bury St Edmunds which I hardly know. During 2021 I had a developing urge to live nearer to my family, a common reaction to life on the upper slopes of ageing, and, as the title of this first Bury Blog suggests, in spite of my choice, freely taken, to leave after a fairly significant period of being embedded in a life in Bruges, leaving was a jolt; a rupture; a slicing through comfortable and much-loved routines and the leaving of loved friends and groups.

Moving out.

Much as I felt stressed with all the pressures of leaving, [especially with the stream of Brexit-inspired bureaucracy via the Removal firm, the conduit, not the origin of the offending minefield of requirements] it turned out that the arriving was much worse. Wonderful to be surrounded by willing family helpers to Move In but the serious downsizing was something of a shock. Five ‘girls’ worked solidly on my behalf during the first week; 2 daughters, one who was over specially to join the fun from California!; two grand-daughters and one fiancee; huge help much-needed! In fact, they did it practically all! However, the flat which I already love, is around a third the size of my Bruges apartment, and required instant and further pruning of furniture, plates, jugs and in particular, books! I had sent ten boxes of books to Sue Ryder Books in Bruges plus given away a few more to friends. I had donated three bookshelves on the urgent advice of my daughter but suddenly here, there were impressive towers of books lining walls with nowhere to go!! I ignored the books for the first few weeks while I organised trips of furniture and other impedimenta to the local auction house and a variety of expendables to the nearby Cancer Research. I had quite forgotten the British penchant for charity shops; there seem to be dozens in Bury and a wonderful invention they are!! But this week, I have concentrated on winnowing the books which I am donating to Oxfam Books and Music, a very civilised feature of Bury cultural life. Each trip, I fill my old-lady-bag-on-wheels with books then drag it valiantly to Oxfam up what can only be called A Hill! I feel valiant in the execution but weighed down in the actual heavy heave!!

Moving in.

I am quite proud to have found in this first month, an odd job man; a plumber; a painter; an electrician; a cleaner; a hairdresser; a nail place; a curtain/blinds emporium; a beer shop [Dutch owner!] which delivers; a very kind neighbourly couple who are so helpful; and two possible friends! Many of the craftsmen have been located through my local daughter’s considerable list of skilled workers!! During the last few days, the apartment [without notable storage facilities it must be said] is beginning to resemble home, especially after two visits from my son and his wife, to hang pictures. The new normality is tiptoeing in! Meanwhile, there is no need to wonder why I am so tired. Tired but stressed no longer!

Ten days after I moved in

The woman who came a couple of weeks ago to measure up for blinds and a door curtain, offered to give my name and number to a very near neighbour in the same street as she thought we would ‘get on’. Such a generous thought and resulted in my meeting Catherine who invited me one evening to meet several of her friends. Great for a newcomer to the area and indeed I went with one of them to a lunchtime screening of The Duke with the perennially excellent Helen Mirren and Jim Broadbent. My First Outing and much enjoyed. Such a break from the seemingly relentless Reducing Strategy.

Some of the many beautiful ruins of the 10th century abbey
in the huge Abbey Gardens,

I have done two or three walks in the superb Abbey Gardens though still too tired to do the usual hour plus. I am only now discovering how much time is needed for the existential energy to resume its past level. A month or two at least. But I have had to go shopping and gradually I am learning the layout of the town. Immediately almost I was surprised and delighted at the open friendliness of people in the street. I do remember the same feeling in Wye where I lived for over 30 years and the surprise to discover there wasn’t the same spontaneity of spirit and openness in Bruges. Individually, the people are lovely but there is a distinct avoidance of eye contact in the street and an absence of greeting strangers as one passes, in Bruges, perhaps partly due to its long history of being invaded, conquered, repressed, taken over, plundered etc! And it does belie the essential friendliness of its people! But in Bury, to go out to buy bread at Woosters, early in the morning, is to encounter the ordinary, everyday friendliness of the town, given without thought or effort. Heart-warming. As were the displays of creativity glimpsed two mornings ago in the town centre.

Crochet cap fit for a post box

 !

And another.

Love Letter to Brugge

 As I do the countless chores preparatory to moving my home from Bruges to Bury St Edmunds, I feel pressured, especially with the myriad tasks essential to keeping Customs happy enough to let me back in, without charging me punitive taxes. I cannot help but remember February 5^th 2015 when I made the reverse trip. I just booked a Removals firm from the next village; dates to suit were arranged; men came and packed then drove off to Bruges on February 4, moving my household possessions in through the

Part of the narrative of ...

windows on the following day. After which, tutto a posto! NOW, post Brexit, there exists much bureaucracy including TORs, to ensure I don’t pay Customs duties on my furniture etc. To obtain a Transfer of Residence Relief URN number I have submitted online, relevant passport page, documents to prove residence here and future residence in Bury plus three pages of A4 detailing every item of furniture etc which I intend to have transported to the U.K. 15 working days after receipt, Govt UK, has just issued my URN, Unique Reference Number, which my Dutch transport firm must have to enable entry into Fort Brexit a short distance away.

..

......the Wintergloed, Walk of Light.

In addition there are POAs for both Belgian and British Customs submitted by PDF; lengthy [approaching two months] enquiries and demands to ascertain my real identity and how I managed to obtain the money to buy a small, two bed flat in Bury. The latter would not be necessary were I to rent in Bury but I am buying which complicates matters a lot apparently! [En passant, it seems ageist that a person of 87 is not allowed to raise a small mortgage. Post relocation, I am going to discover who my new-to-me M.P. is and write to complain about this.]

In the meantime I walk, when I have time, along canals, admiring this jewel of a little mediaeval

Not only picturesque canals, but also dramatic skies
to take the eye.

city which has experienced epochal events over the centuries and reading its story through its ancient bricks, its stone bridges, some still with stone ledges to permit mediaeval merchants to display their goods for sale; through its gables, chimneys, steeples, cobbled narrow but tall streets. I love the rhythms of the town echoed in the regular clopping of the horses pulling carriages for sight-seeing and punctuated by the melange of chapel and church bells at different intervals and decibels and the delightful cascade of sound from the carillon. The Belfort, surviving past fire and partial collapse, in the historic Markt which has seen processions, hangings, celebratory crowds, civic murders, civil unrest, markets but which now is just a magnetic arena for the weekly market, crowds of tourists and a continuing cafe culture with its relaxing air and quiet discussion.

The Grote Markt

Brugge’s history is a story of a thousand years of early peasant economy, great lords and powerful families, interminable wars and armed uprisings, occupation by ‘others’ with Bruges freed only by counter occupations. The seventeenth century religious wars led to the partition of the Low Countries and eventually to a nineteenth century of prolonged poverty and stagnation. It was during this period that George Rodenbach’s Bruges La Morte, and his Le Carillonneur were published both to wide acclaim and prompt disparagement! For Bruggelingen Rodenbach’s stories were perhaps too near the truth! But they caught the then contemporary melancholy mood and the grey inertia. But the new port of Zeebrugge [1905-8] brought industrialisation and increasing prosperity and led to the twentieth century and a widening awareness of the exquisite charms of Brugge, an almost perfectly preserved [or renewed] little mediaeval city. Delighted tourists arrived in increasing numbers bringing fame and money which sparked its present affluence, displayed in the numerous golden flourishes on old buildings, the unbelievable cleanliness and tidiness, the variety of rich processions and events, the literary wealth of the Library and Archives and the art treasures in museums. This is truly a place for aesthetes and historians!

\The Belfort, Brugge Markt
Built in 1240; upper  part burned down 1280.
Extensions over the centuries but 1493 a lightning strike
started a blaze and upper Belfort with clocks, burned down.
1741 more fire and fury burned spire and upper section.
1822 spire replaced by neo-Gothic crown seen today.

Golden statues adorn the facade of the 
Basilica of the Holy Blood in the Burg.

Alpha Beta

 

Greek Alphabet slightly simplified for children

  My son-in-law works for Google and perhaps that is why I know that the parent company of Google is called Alphabet which is, in fact, described as a multinational conglomerate. The very word is Greek, or rather two Greek words conjoined, alpha, beta.

Greek vase showing alphabet

Ornamental letter D in old manuscript

The Greek alphabet has 24 letters, 7 of which are vowels, though we are not about to study them! BUT it is interesting to note that the Greek alphabet has been used since the late ninth or early eighth century BC, derived from the early Phoenician alphabet. As in so many other areas, the importance of the ancient Greeks in the history of the alphabet is paramount. All of the alphabets in use in European languages today are directly or indirectly related to the Greek. The Greek's particular achievement was to provide representations for vowel sounds not present in the Phoenician. Consonants plus vowels made a writing system which was both economical and unambiguous. The true alphabetical system has remained for 3,000 years with only slight modifications, an amazing vehicle of communication and expression among the most diverse nationalities and languages. The Greek alphabet has spread to many others but the most important and widespread descendants are the Latin, through the Etruscan, and Cyrillic alphabets. The Encyclopaedia Britannica points to the varied examples of alphabets displayed in everyday objects or areas of life, which have survived to give evidential proof of use, since ancient times onwards, through documents, grave inscriptions, lettering on vases and monuments, manuscripts, private and civic records.

Omicron variant

My interest in this has been stirred by the current habit of the naming of the various strains of Covid 19 after the Greek alphabet letters by the World Health Organisation though quite why Omicron has followed ‘Delta’ is a mystery! Should have been Epsilon! Perhaps something to do with the shape of the virus. It is very pleasing to see how easily the Greek names for the Covid variants, have been quickly accommodated into everyday language so easily. After 3,000 years and an academic record par excellence, even small children can recognise Omicron and use it correctly in the modern context.

 

Illumination in part of Wintergloed

And now for something completely different. Bruges' Wintergloed has been a resounding success; it is the long walk, devised by the commune, to enable spectators to follow a trail of lights and lighting effects in celebration of Christmas and the Christmas Market. The latter has been, I suspect, a little less successful this year; certainly, the twenty plus stalls on ‘t Zand packed up and left after the first week while the Markt, situated in the centre, was much busier. However the Walk of Light has been widely applauded and on opening night, an estimated 10,000 walked the walk. The burgemeister, Dirk de fauw, in fact, cancelled the display on the following evening, and weekend because of Covid anxieties. Notwithstanding, this year, the organisers have introduced a novel cultural element. In an endeavour to strike up a dialogue with the city through light and words, there has been a light installation on the Rozenhoedkaai and people are invited to write a haiku and send it in online. The best 20 haikus selected each week are then projected in light on the Rozenhoedkaai in a 10 minute loop of the best 20 haikus that week, for the following seven days. Alain, who is visiting at the moment from Cologne, has had his contribution selected; great joy this end!! Not to be outdone, I have just composed my own haiku [after all, I used to include haiku in my English Literature lessons half a century ago!] We shall see if honour ….. or possibly unreal, vain expectation

is met!

 

I should define Haiku for the uninitiated! It is a three line poem, non-rhymed, with 5,7,5 syllables in three lines totalling seventeen syllables. It emerged in seventeenth century Japan almost as a protest against the over-elaborate poetry of the time. My entry, in response to requests for haiku about Wintergloed, is published below as I realised, after sending it in on Jan.8th, that the whole Christmas Market including the Wintergloed finished on January 9th!!

Eyes shine in light

Bruges captures tranquillity

Bathed in Winter glow.

Haiku try to convey emotion through
specified verbal limits

And here is Alain's winning entry displayed in 
all its glory 

Kusse im Winter
Schenken Sommer im Herzen
Und Fruhling im Herbst

Kisses in Winter
Give Summer in the heart
And Spring in Autumn.

And a little part of the glorious display.
The Bandstand in Astridpark.

The two photographs above of Wintergloed, courtesy of
Joachim Diessner, Cologne.

Christmas Present.

 

Sir John Betjeman in St Pancras.
My hero who saved this beautiful station from
developers in the Sixties.

Santa, masquerading as a Red Gnome,
and a laughing Snowman.

A lacuna in this blog due to festive activities and travel. I was reluctant to go back to Britain, not for the family Christmas but because of Covid risks and tests, but was persuaded and managed to stay positive, or more accurately, resigned, during the 4 hour 10 minutes Eurostar journey from Brussels on

The Meeting Point, St Pancras.

December 22 due to a broken-down train ahead which proved immoveable for about two hours. My son, waiting for me in St Pancras, responded magnificently by making up quiz questions on St Pancras about which he seemed to discover lots. I was proud to know several of the answers! When I arrived and eventually managed to locate him at the Meeting Point, he suggested a choice between going home immediately or a glass of champagne tout de suite. No prizes for guessing my grateful response for an early start to Christmas!

Colour-coordinated Californian branch.

Thus began an one of my best, perhaps The Best, Christmas Ever. Eventually we had all the family together except the Californian branch at home in very snowy Lake Tahoe. The Day passed in monumental amounts of present-opening; astonishing bonhomie and laughter; steady alcohol consumption by some; splendid walks; fabulous food; silly dressing up; more games than I could shake a stick at and altogether sufficient ‘Peace on Earth and Goodwill to All Men’ to astonish Scrooge. Our Christmas 2021 certainly put Covid in the shade completely as we totally forgot about it, an achievement in itself. Two of our number, from Norwich, did not arrive due to negative Covid tests reducing our total number to 11; a very sad development for them and very much for us though, on the cheerful side, probably less cider was consumed.

Numbers resident gradually thinned out until one grandson [perhaps the most 'bien dans sa peau' of all my family] and his equally-chilled partner, plus me, departed early on December 30; earlier than anticipated as my Eurostar had been cancelled!! The young people accompanied me to St Pancras, a great start to the day, and I sailed on without mishap. A friend met me in his car in Brugge, drove like the clappers to my home thus ensuring I was not only fatigued but also queasy on arrival. It took grisailles and a Duvel to set me up before unpacking and an early night. New Year’s Eve and Day have passed in a bubble of decreasing fatigue as I try to persuade myself to think about resuming the Downsizing details to be dealt with. I start tomorrow!! I feel somewhat disloyal and ungrateful to mention that the tranquillity here and the silence have indeed been golden.

Worker bees not seen as the rest wait
in lazy anticipation!

This pre-walk photo demonstrates a personal
puzzle. How come I am now the shortest
when I used to be so tall?

A short ponder on Things I Learned over the Christmas break.

1. The rapid expertise on the phone/GSM of those not in their eighties is amazing. Realising this demonstrated my own place in the electronic pecking order, mistakenly assumed to be O.K. hitherto, as actually low! I must DO MORE on my Iphone!

2. The kindness of the young is inspiring and reminds me of how callow I probably was in my twenties!

3. The complete abandonment of Self to enjoying the moment, evident in the young, was inspiring.  Carpe Diem writ large.

4. The silliness of one individual when multiplied by eleven, is life-enhancing and probably life-extending!!