Oostende in the Wind.

 The Pulpit. Leon Spilliaert

 Drawing by James Ensor

 De Mangerie, Oostende.

A lovely day out with friend to Oostende to celebrate his birthday. Hopefully-judicious checking on the Internet produced a booking at De Mangerie on the Albert 1 Promenade and the promise of its presence in the list of Top Ten Fish Restaurants in town, lived well up to expectations!! The meal was both wonderfully tasty and aesthetically beautiful and the service, exceptional. I thought it

extraordinary also, that I had an email this morning asking me to rate our welcome, the food and the service, in retrospect. De Mangerie, Oostende, definitely earns a second visit!

 Albert 1 Promenade, Oostende.

This was my fourth or fifth trip to Oostende in as many years and I have never enjoyed it. Always grey and gloomy; generally cold and misty; often with showers or continuous rain. Yesterday, in February, it was cold with a very strong wind but the sun shone, the sea glistened immense and distant, and I could understand why people might go there for a holiday. As in Brugge, out-of-season roadworks and re-laying of cables and pipes seemed everywhere, but even so, Lots of Room along the Promenade for games and fish stalls, couples trying to stroll, leaning against the wind, and children running in circles. It was a photo opportunity of almost summer proportions!

 Interior. James Ensor

After lunch, to the Mu-zee, the local Museum of Modern Art, Oostende’s own MOMA. I had never seen it before and was delighted with the white interior on different levels displaying a number of pictures by Leon Spilliaert, one of the local Masters, and James Ensor, already known and loved in this parish. Coincidentally, there is a Leon Spilliaert exhibition on now in the Royal Academy, a place I love and of which I was a member for countless years. I had never known that Spilliaert was virtually a local boy in Flanders. It is an excellent exhibition in the Mu-zee and I shall keep note of further exhibitions there. I really should explore more of Flanders!

 Self-portrait, Leon Splliaert, 1881-1946

 The Rower. Leon Spilliaert



"To me, the only thing that counts is my individuality; it is everything
to me; I am not so certain that all the other things exist. It is like a
phantasmagoria, when I view the life that goes on outside myself, it
is often with abundant fantasy."
Leon Spilliaert. 1925









"The mask loomed large in the work of Ensor from 1888 onwards. It became
the hallmark of his work and his most notable contribution to modern art
is the integration of carnivalesque iconography into his oeuvre.. In his work,
the mask became an instrument by which to expose human nature."

                   

 James Ensor 1860-1949.
by Rik Wouters.

 

James Ensor; Self-portrait with masks.
1899.

Cobblestones, Tartan and Puppets.

Soon to be an elegant new square

I haven’t written about the general life in Brugge recently, caught up instead with other notions and happenings. BUT I have kept an eye on the area outside the wonderful Bike Shop which serves beers from Brussels and coffee at its chic black tables on the pavement outside. The gleeful owner told me months ago that the Commune would transform the area in front of his shop, into a square, a plein. It is a small area and I did wonder quite how the miracle would occur. Well, I still don’t know but work started there about a month ago and Philipstockstraat has been closed to traffic at that corner for a fortnight now. All is upheaval at that end of Philipstockstraat at present, as in this photograph But the eventual result will be revealed soon.

Broken jaw avenged, after three years!

Meantime, I noticed this morning [18/02/20] that two workmen were busy Doing Something in Woensdagmarkt. Closer inspection revealed that a cluster of upstanding cobblestones were being dug up to be re-settled and I saw immediately that they are The Ones over which I tripped in 2016, fell and broke my jaw in two places. I did report the state of that little group of cobblestones to Officialdom at the time, but while my jaw took only six weeks to heal and permit talking and eating again, it has been much longer for the cobbles to be restored to a safe state! On Wednesday February 19, further cobblestone renovation outside my building, is occurring. Good news; pensioners will soon be able to almost glide confidently across the cobbles in Woensdagmarkt! The battle to keep pedestrians safe over the cobbles in Brugge, must be an ongoing Tremendous Effort.

Inexpert Highland Fling

And so to a Tartan Birthday Party for a young man of 70. Last Thursday, following Mah Jong, a great Scottish-themed party was held, attended by around 30 people most dressed valiantly if amateurishly, in touches of tartan; some in kilts; some in Scottish blouses, shirts, ties, berets, sashes. The house itself

Tartan cake.

 was suitably draped and dressed with two birthday cakes, one iced in tartan, the other shaped in a 7 and 0. Lots of super food and bubbly and, on the stroke of noon, came the distinctive sound of bagpipes and drum from the street outside. There, an impromptu concert was held [I wonder if one needs a permit for music in the street as in Britain?] for both the party people and quite an assortment of passing pedestrians, cyclists and drivers. After which, the musicians came into the house for food and drinks and further performances and one hoped that the near-neighbours were bagpipe lovers! The birthday boy was enchanted by it all as, indeed, were the guests.

 Concert on the terrace

And to cap an eventful week, a visit with friends to the Poppentheater Uilenspiegel on Sunday morning to enjoy a three person dramatic presentation of everyday life and politics in Brugge. I understood only a little though my companion helpfully whispered key phrases from the Brugge patois of the dialogue. The puppets were enchanting and the audience was amused and delighted. I did approve of the appearance of a splendid young man, a Green Party schepen [councillor] who gamely answered questions and dealt with complaints mainly about money wasted by the Brugge town council! I believe this puppet theatre is a revival of an earlier feature of the town and the three dozen or so seats were full; each seat cost 5 euros to include a beer or water after the performance. Amazing value which will surely be difficult to maintain!

 Just one of the memorable characters

One of the most endearing traits of life in Brugge is its ability to surprise and entertain. It never fails!!

The Art of Persuasion

I have been thinking about how to influence people who don’t have to listen to me. SO not a problem for a team in a business led by a powerful figure but for certain cross departmental groups in a large firm, or for ad hoc groups in society, more of a concern. I live in a lovely old building where I rent a super flat and where there are seven other apartments; in total, four large like mine and four smaller. Three owners [all in the same family] have three of the four largest apartments but these people do not live in their own apartments which are inherited family wealth. The building is administered only by the owners, wherever they live. Two non-family owners actually live in the building while a third large apartment has been sold with the owner yet to move in. These three owners have bought their properties on the open market.

I have recently been unsettled by the renting of the next-door apartment to a firm, and not to a person. It would be lovely to have a neighbour but the fleeting occupants, often overnight, are unknown to, and unseen normally by, me though I noted different cars in the relevant parking space next door. What I DO notice is that often messy boots have emerged outside my door from the adjacent lift. Somehow, this chiefly unseen, always unheard, cavalcade has disturbed me, perhaps by its

transience, perhaps by the slight mess on the carpet outside my door, perhaps by the idea of unknowns passing through. I am so not a nervous person but I think I have felt slighted by the discourtesy of not being informed by the owners of the situation, and by the impossibility for me of making contact. Ships that pass in the night do nothing to add to the feeling of the common good, so important to the health and well-being of life in a shared building.

For the first time in five years of happy residence here I have felt, therefore, moved to Do Something and I wrote a letter to all owners and renters before the annual owners’ meeting recently outlining my discomfort and pointing out several other things which needed action, such as more frequent cleaning of the public areas; thorough and lasting repair of the doors to the adjacent car park to prevent illegal parking and improve security. I had thought that my letter was judicious, to the point, politely explicit and I included remarks on the responsibility of owners to consider the notion of the common good which I feel is in part, at least, their responsibility and an important one. A happy atmosphere makes for happy residents.

At the owners’ meeting, consensus was reached on

Influencing others.

the cleaning but on nothing else apparently except that the adjacent flat rental has now stopped, for the time being at least. This of course was not decided at or by the meeting and may have had nothing at all to do with my letter. But this is the one really important plus for me and was the irritant which prompted my letter. An unexpected tiny sting in the tail is the vote carried to disallow anyone without a car parking space next-door, having occasional parking for their visitors in unoccupied spaces. This has been allowed for my visitors-with-cars for the last five years and happens only rarely. Most of my guests come by Eurostar. However, this restriction addresses no existing problem, adds little to the notion of the common good and does prompt the slight suspicion that those with the power, have used the time-honoured method of problem-solving: that of shooting the messenger!!

And clearly, I need to think again of how to influence people who do not want, or need, to listen to me! I enjoyed some modest success in the art of persuasion when I led a staff of around 65 people and 1100 adolescents but that was a long time ago and we were involved in, broadly, a shared endeavour.

 Tulips from Daniel, a young resident here.

The Ultimate Palindrome

After my interest, last week, in the 02-02-20-20 Palindrome [ February 2nd, 2020] and other dates Palindromic, a friend told me about the Sator Square of which I had never heard! How could I have missed it? Mystifying! It is the world’s earliest-known double Palindrome which means it can be read top-to-bottom; bottom-to-top; left-to-right; right-to-left. It dates all the way back, at least, to Ancient Rome, having been found among the ruins of the city of Pompeii, which was decimated and buried in volcanic ash in 79 A.D. during the shattering eruption of Mount Vesuvius.

Here is the Sator Square [left]and it consists of five words that read as a single Palindromic Latin sentence:

Sator Arepo Tenet Opera Rotas

The translation of the Sator Square inscription has been the subject of controversy over the centuries. Much of the disagreement has been over the word Arepo which has no direct Latin translation. Many believe it is a proper noun, a name, so the square could read: The sower Arepo holds the wheel with effort. The other theory is that the name was simply created to help with the palindrome!

The letters can be re-positioned around the ‘N’ in the centre of the square so that it reads Pater Noster, Latin for Our Father and the beginning of the Lord’s Prayer. This reads in two directions with the two remaining letters, ‘A’ and ‘O’ possibly representing Alpha and Omega, a Christian concept about God’s omnipotent presence. Since there wasn't a large Christian presence in Ancient Rome, it might have been a covert symbol for local Roman Christians, when Christianity was proscribed, to identify their faith to each other without fear of discovery and persecution. Throughout the ages, palindromes were also thought to be a safeguard against the Devil because he would be confused by the repetition of the characters. The Sator Square thus became associated with magical properties in widely different
societies, regions and eras. It was used in folk magic to protect crops and livestock and remove jinxes and curses.

 St Barnabas, Alphamstone.

 Difficult to decipher.
The Sator Square etching in
St Barnabas, Alphamstone.

The Sator Square was discovered scratched in the wall of a church, St Barnabas in Alphamstone, near Sudbury in Essex, centuries after Roman times. Although not proven, it is generally assumed that Nicholas le Gryce, rector of the church 1576-1593, was responsible as he has been credited with several other inscriptions etched on the church walls including one which reads: This chancell was repared with newe tymber worke by Nycholas Le Gryce Parson. There is no indication of what the Sator Square might have meant to these mediaeval worshippers but Christian connotations of the Sator square are consistent with the discovery in 1931 of three examples of it on the walls of a Roman garrison at Dura-Europos (abandoned in the third century), now in eastern Syria. But Jewish and Mithraic remains are also present at Dura-Europos.

The discovery of the etched palindrome in St. Barnabas was made by Bari Hooper as early as 1975 though only publicly reported in the Telegraph on 2 May 2015. Mr Hooper, who has made a lifetime study of Essex churches, suggests that the letters in the Sator etching in St. Barnabas, are 16^th century in form. Examples of the Sator-Rotas square have also been found at Cirencester on a piece of Roman wall plaster from the fourth century, and in Manchester on a potsherd in a second-century rubbish pit. Those might be of Christian origin.

Palindromic Brexit

Today’s date, Sunday, February 2^nd, is a palindrome in which the date, written in a certain order, reads identically from left to right, and from right to left. If one writes the month first, as in MM-DD-YYYY, the date is 02-02-2020. Similarly and unusually, February 11^th will also be palindromic.. Thus,02-11-20 [carefully shortening the digits of the year!] And for palindromic overload, see December 2^nd 2021. Thus, 12-02-2021 followed closely by December 11^th 2021. Thus 12-11-21. Obviously one needs to tweak the number of permissible digits in the year to make it work but even so, it IS special and interesting to one who finds numbers not her natural metier! ***

Brexit sadness.

Joy unrestrained!

The title of this blog now becomes obvious for it is also the weekend when the endless, chaotic, unnecessary process of Brexit has finally begun its countdown. In spite of Boris vowing not to be ‘triumphant’ there was quite a lot of triumph evident unofficially on Friday with crowds weeping, singing, cheering while the other half of the country remained sad and rueful. Since the day Britain narrowly voted to leave the European Union in June 2016, the issue has divided families, cast a shadow over businesses and paralysed the Government. One half of the country is totally mystified by the opinions of the other half, and vice versa! And despite the Prime Minister vowing to unite the country, that will be almost impossible even though Remainers are resigned to the inevitable tragedy to come. It is a smaller version of the acerbic division in American politics where, to give but one example, the Republican Party in the Senate seriously explains why there should be no witnesses in a trial!

Boris currently is showing atypical good sense in trying, he says, to begin to heal some of the societal rifts. He is talking of steering public money towards the North and Midlands whose normal tribal voting patterns were abandoned in the rush to support his party which loudly promised to ‘Get Brexit Done!’. Hence his late support for the controversial HS2, the stunningly expensive rail link from London to the North which should kick-start the re-invigoration of the economy of the North, shamefully neglected for decades. There lies the dilemma for Boris & Co. His supporters in the South, in Parliament and in Party, foresee free trade, deregulation and the U.K. as a Singapore-style nimble free agent successfully snapping up opportunities in the global economy. But the voters in the North want their car industry and fishing

 The Brits are good at protesting; one of the many anti-HS2
protests over the last two years.

to be protected from global competition; they want their reduced manufacturing jobs to remain or increase; they want Big Government. And Boris’s buccaneering leadership of a government with a huge majority is aiming at an economy which will shed those Northern manufacturing jobs; will use fishing rights to trade off against perhaps financial power in the forthcoming EU negotiations; and which will hugely reduce Government support for areas dependent on traditional jobs as it works its way to becoming Small Government.

Several Flemish people here have commented on the thousands of job in Flanders which will probably disappear as a direct result of Brexit. Yesterday, the podolog I saw showed me a tube of cream no longer available for her practice to buy from Britain, ‘because of Brexit’. Incomprehensible to me but it is happening. And, inevitably, resident Europeans and jobs are gradually disappearing from Britain as the economy begins to shrink a little. The Bank of England forecasts that £23 billion will be knocked off the size of the U.K. economy by 2022. Phew! I am polishing up my Carpe Diem credentials so that I remember to savour every day now!

Must end with a lovely quote from Beatrice and Sydney Webb, those famous economists, Socialists, pioneers and distinguished historians, co-founders of the prestigious London School of Economics:

'Old people are always absorbed in something. Usually themselves.' 

I suppose all the heat and light over Brexit is about self-absorption, though not necessarily all about elderly preoccupation. A real sadness about Brexit is that the vast majority of the young whose lives will be considerably influenced by it, are not in favour of it, while the elderly supporters of Brexit who have chiefly enjoyed the benefits of E.U.membership, cannot expect to suffer the adversities of leaving Europe for very long.

 Beatrice Webb, 1858-1943
Sidney Webb, 1859-1947

***

Palindromic Post Script.

I had not appreciated until I looked at CNN on my Ipad this morning, [3/02/20] that yesterday's date was Really Special in the Palindromic World. That is because it works both in the MM-DD-YYYY format AND in the DD-MM-YYYY. As such, it is a palindromic date in all formats and the only such this century. The previous palindromic date in all formats was 11/11/1111 and the next all format date will be 12/12/2121, in 101 years! The Solihull School Maths. Department wrote on Twitter that, in addition to its other palindromic qualities, Feb. 2nd, 2020 is the 33rd day of the year AND the number of days left in the year is also a palindrome, 333.

Brexit Bumbles On ...

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 31^st 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!!

 

New Year Blog, 2020

After nearly three weeks’ blog silence, including two weeks for Christmas and family time in the UK and nearly a whole week back home catching up, at last I can think over how much I have enjoyed the break.Two weeks is a little too long to remain untethered, as it were, wandering from bed to settee, but it was SO worth it to see the whole family, at different times and in different locations. Christmas Day itself was Awesome as I believe they say in Arkansas. Great fun and food were enjoyed by quite a crowd and we managed to wander down to the pub before we ate, which is the usual bonus. The conviviality during the festive season never ceases to amaze and hearten. 

 Mah Jongg delight spans the centuries and continents.

And another, Christmas Eve delight, was that I was able to play Mah Jongg with Cait AND 

introduce the game to two grandsons, Dan and Connor, who just loved it. We played for hours and the boys, unfairly I thought, picked up the basics in double quick time, unlike me and my more mature friends. I am now busy finding Mah Jongg sets and books online to dispatch to the junior branch of the family. I am really building a Mah Jongg Empire which I hope will entertain and delight future players. Amusing really as I could hardly

describe myself as a World Class Player. It goes back perhaps to the saying about not being able to take teaching out of the girl! I like to think it is because of my joy in playing, both for intellectual and social reasons, that I have this strong urge to introduce Mah Jongg to others. It helps of course, that the boys do love to play games; apparently a popular tendency among Millennials!! Whatever! As an aside, I have decided to adopt the spelling of Mah Jongg with the double ‘g’ as it appears so often and I rather like it! It feels rather more Chinese, which is a ridiculous thing to write!!

I enjoyed a super surprise on Christmas Day; my son and his wife had had the lovely idea [for me] of having my entire output of blogs printed online. Unbelievable! SO Volume 1 and Volume 2 duly appeared on Christmas morning to add an extra lustre to my day. Of course, David had got carried away and had had printed 10 x2 books. So the poor grandchildren and offspring, including the lovely Californian branch, had to accept this gift-from-the-heart. I think I picked up the vague notion from the younger set that their volumes will be interesting to read after I have departed for the Great Classroom in the Sky!! However, a marvellous surprise, not to say, a stunner, for me!

We seemed to indulge in quite a few interesting events during my British stay and, apart from the fun we had which lingers in the memory, there were several high-spots. Chief of which was the trip to Pupo in Covent Garden for a great lunch, Venetian style, attended also by my lovely nephew and his gorgeous family. His children are small, around 5 and 6, and one of my grown-up grandsons wondered later how people managed to have children who were so well-behaved and great to know. I explained how important upbringing is and commented that the two little ones had managed to make their good first decision in choosing the right parents. Think he understood my point!! After lunch to the Apollo, that golden, curlicued, intimate Victorian theatre to see ‘Everyone’s Talking About Jamie’, a total humdinger of a production with energy, superb choreography, singing and dancing da morire, as the Italians say. It was a truly engrossing, energising production, direct from the original season in the Crucible in Sheffield and already performing in London for two years!!

The original Jamie [Campbell] who wanted to go to the
school Prom in a dress.

 Jamie's alter ego, Fifi La True.

But what I discovered, later, when I read the programme notes, was the most inspiring story of the real Jamie and of the tortuous road taken for the show to materialise into its fabulous self! A sixteen year old boy, Jamie, whom everyone knew to be gay, had a burning ambition to be a drag queen when he left school. He and his Mum lived in a small former mining village in County Durham, a long way from Drag Queen country but, at 15, desperately wanting to wear a dress to the school Prom., he wrote a detailed, explanatory email and circulated it to all the groups he thought might be interested in making a documentary about him and his dreams. The format he used, like a film script, caught the eye of the Creative Director of Firecracker who followed it up, presented it to BBC 3 and a T.V. documentary was eventually the result. In turn, by chance, this was spotted and in a series of fits and starts, humps and hollows, chance and coincidence, quite a convoluted narrative emerged, between the screening of the documentary on BBC 3 and the Sheffield Crucible Theatre commissioning of a script for a musical about Jamie. But a musical was eventually born, and booked for a three week period in February 2017.where it sold out every evening with nightly standing ovations. And thus, to the Apollo in London's West End.

 An earlier, haunting portrait.

And I can't omit mention of another special treat when I met my stepson and his super son from New York; I  had seen neither for at least two years so it was with real pleasure that we met up at the Royal Academy to see the Lucian Freud Self- Portraits.  On arrival we chatted for ages in the foyer to Mick, Head of Security I think, who had distinctive echoes of a lovely Irish accent. He was charming and informative and said Goodbye to us by presenting us with free tickets to the Freud exhibition. Amazing. AND the exhibition was brilliant, tracing as it did, Freud's extraordinary artistic progress through his life. His searing, not to say brutal, honesty was a constant.

 Perhaps the most famous and accomplished of
Lucian Freud's self portraits.
Wonderful.