Lend Me Your Ear.

My son walking the Pennine Way in the north
of England, with two friends last week..
91 miles over 5 days!.
Great prep for wandering the streets of Brugge!

Definitely, in Brugge, the Corvid stranglehold is loosenng its grip. No need for masks in the street, though some [usually natives] do wear them ; social distancing seems to be a passing fancy; tourists are returning with the continuing proviso that no one can visit from the U.K. The Oud Huis Amsterdam nearby, normally has over 60% of its clientele from the U.K. and is probably fairly typical of other hotels and B&Bs here. This exclusion may well change before the end of the month. I am personally hoping so, as my son has promised to come over for my birthday before the end of the month. I haven’t actually seen him or his Suffolk-based sister for a year nor, in fact the grandchildren, chiefly, since our family theatre trip on January 4

Vaccination proof and 
other necessary papers 
for UK entry from U.S.

 2020! My California-based daughter and her little family landed at Heathrow on July 4 [yesterday] to stay for a fortnight but my possible reunion trip over to the UK for me has been scuppered as I absolutely do not want to quarantine over there and at present, no one from the U.K. may enter Belgium! Though as my home is here. I would probably be allowed re-entry, albeit with another period of quarantine.

July 4Jth 2021 't Rommelmarkt on 't Zand.

But to return to the subject of emerging normality [i.e. pre-Covid events/behaviour] re-appearing. One of the events which I loved early in my relationship with Brugge, was the Zandfeesten. My husband, Eric, and I used to come over for about a week in early August for what is now known as the 
MAFestival of musica barocca and I soon discovered the delightful synchronicity of the huge Rommelmarkt on ‘t Zand. Ignoring the scorn of my husband, I used to hasten to ‘t Zand around 7.00 a.m. often meeting up with the ‘boys from Cologne’ with whom Eric and I were great friends. The

2021 MA Festival logo

leader of that group, Joachim, was/is a confirmed Rommelmarkt addict and he and his partner, now husband, would hit the deck by 6.00 a.m. Eric could never believe, or understand, the magnanimity of our irrational behaviour. He always chose to lie in late on the offending Sunday and virtually ignore the treasures I eventually purchased!

New Senses: Portuguese cafe selling home-made
Pastel de nata with coffee. To die for!

But to return to what was going to be my original point in the preceding paragraph; Sunday June 4, yesterday, saw the first Return of ‘t Zandfeest. I think the last pre-Lockdown ‘t Zandfeest must have been September 2019! Excitement was high at Chateau Clayton, embellished by an arrangement to meet a similar Rommel-obsessed friend for coffee at New Seasons at the corner of 't Zand and Smedenstraat. BUT early on Sunday morning I awoke with a swingeing attack of Labyrinthitis, SO rare for me now that I didn’t recognise what was happening to be able to name it. And yet I suffered from intermittent Labyrinthitis from the early 90s but, crucially for the ageing memory, not for about ten years. I had totally forgotten its existence! But as I was unable even to sit upright in bed, felt dreadfully nauseous and could hardly hear the BBC on the Ipad that always shares my bed, I knew going anywhere was impossible. Indeed it took me around two hours before I was able to walk, holding the wall, to the kitchen.

Labyrinthitis is caused by an infection, perhaps by a virus in the inner ear. It produces a serious loss of balance; some hearing loss; and initial violent feelings of nausea. This sounds terrible but normally, mercifully, it is temporary. In the past, mine used to last up to five days and with the prescribed tablets, improving a little day by day. This time I also feel terrible; unwell, lethargic, with underlying feelings of nausea continuing and a longer-lasting inability to balance, the latter no doubt amplified by ageing which has seen a deterioration anyway in my balance. This time I was lucky to find in my scant medical supplies, a nine year old box of tablets, unused! So although any notional sell-by date will have vanished long ago, nevertheless I have used them and the situation is improving!

Summary of Labyrinthitis Symptoms.
Frankly, it doesn't feel benign!

Legacy From Slavery in Bristol

The slave trade significantly influenced the growth of racism, most obviously in the U.S. where it is institutionalised, but also, less obviously, in Britain. Stories of slave rebellions, runaways and attacks on plantation owners were rife in the colonies and were also echoed in the British press and this succeeded in perpetuating the myth that black people were lawless, untrustworthy and violent. The slave trade in all its aspects, significantly influenced the growth of racial theory as a method for society to justify its unjustifiable actions. Thus racism was vindicated and impacted black people adversely over hundreds of years from the 17^th century on until today when official racism has long been outlawed in Britain though informal racism  still exists, allegedly, within the police force and employment.

Street names in Bristol such as Guinea Street, Jamaica Street, Codrington Place, Tyndall’s Park, Worral and Stapleton Roads are all references to Bristol’s involvement in the transatlantic slave trade. Using the wealth generated from the slave trade, many merchants invested in municipal land purchase, sponsoring cultural/municipal buildings and upgrading ships. The Theatre Royal in Bristol, the second oldest working theatre in Britain, was built as a result of very wealthy subscribers that directly or indirectly benefited from businesses involved in the slave trade, each pledging a substantial sum of money for the design and erection of the theatre, a locally prestigious project. Some municipal buildings and institutions such as schools were named after their slave trading benefactors; for example, Colston Hall, Colston Girls’ School and Colston Primary School [recently re-named Cotham Gardens Primary School following the defenestration [as it were] of Edward Colston’s statue.] Edward Colston was a Bristol-born slave trader, member of the Royal African Company and of the Merchant Venturers Society and a prominent local benefactor. He was perhaps the most important name in a veritable compendium of slave traders who used their wealth to bestow their names by funding prestigious municipal and other public projects.

A temporary name change while seeking a permanent new title
The Colston Arms re-named, for now, Ye olde Pubby Mcdrunkface

Georgian House in Bristol was originally built for John Pinney [1740-1818] who owned several sugar plantations in the West Indies. From 1762-1783 Pinney lived in Nevis running his plantations but in 1783 he returned home to Bristol, bringing two black attendants with him: Fanny Coker and Pero Jones, both bought by him in 1765 when Pinney also bought Pero’s sisters, Nancy and Sheeba but left the little girls to work on the Matravers Plantation in Nevis. There is related original documentation held by the University of Bristol Library recording the date of purchase of the little slave family with evidence of the physical appearance of each member of the family sold. Interestingly, Pero’s Bridge, a footbridge across the River Frome was opened in Bristol docks in 1999, and memorialises the black boy of 12 who died, aged 45, in 1798 in Ashton, Bristol after a lifetime of domestic service in the area.

Pero's Bridge, Bristol.

By the early 1960s, Bristol had an estimated 3000 residents of West Indian origin, some of whom had served in the British Army during WW2 and included a large number who had arrived, by invitation of the UK Government, as part of the Windrush generation from 1948 onward. [And for the recent (2018 on) Home Office hostile treatment of Windrush descendants, Google it!]There was a significant number of West Indians therefore, living in the St. Paul’s area of Bristol which had set up its own churches and other associations, developing a real sense of community in the face of[ widespread discrimination in housing and employment and sporadic violence from Teddy Boys, gangs of white racist youths.

The Bristol Omnibus Company at this time, openly employed only white bus drivers and conductors [while allowing black cleaners and maintenance men]. In fact this was in line with widespread racial discrimination in housing and employment in other British cities at this time. In Bristol, an organisation founded by Roy Hackett and led by youth worker, Paul Stephenson, and including the so-called West Indian Development Council, a local black pressure group, instigated what became known as the Bristol Bus Boycott in 1963. The idea had come from the indomitable Rosa Parks and her refusal to give up her seat for a white person which led to the ensuing Montgomery Bus Boycott in Alabama. The Bristol Bus Boycott drew overwhelming local support from black and many white residents and lasted for four months until the company backed down and overturned the discriminatory policy. The Boycott drew national attention to racial discrimination in Britain and attracted the active support of politicians, Church groups and the High Commissioner for Trinidad and Tobago, the famous Leary Constantine.

Old [1950s] Bristol Omnibus Company bus.

The Bristol Omnibus Company was a nationalised company owned by the U.K. Government from 1950. Despite an acknowledged shortage of bus crews, black men were considered only for lower paid work in canteens and workshops. The policy was blamed by the Company management on the insistence of the Transport and General Workers’ Union [T.G.W.U.] This was denied by T.G.W.U. officials despite a 1955 T.G.W.U. resolution that ‘coloured’ workers could not be employed as bus crews and that if such happened, “if one black man steps on the platform as a conductor, every wheel will stop.” The underlying fear was of reducing wages from increased competition. The four months involving a war of words in the local media; a refusal by the T.G.W.U. to meet a delegation from the West Indian Development Council; plus perhaps some negotiation, was marked by real bitterness when Ron Nethercott, Regional Secretary of the Union, opined in the national Daily Herald, that Stephenson, who had emerged as the leader of the boycott, was dishonest and irresponsible. Stephenson, college-educated and articulate, sued in the High Court and won damages and costs in December 1963. Meanwhile, with the boycott causing increasing economic problems, and following a mass meeting of 500 bus workers on August 27^th it was announced that there would be no

Left to right:
Audley Evans; Paul Stephenson;  Owen Henry.
1963.

more discrimination in the selection of bus crews. Serendipitously, this announcement coincided with Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream ..” speech in Washington. On 17^th September 1963, Raghbir Singh, a Sikh, became Bristol’s first, non-white bus conductor with two Jamaican and two Pakistani men joining him ‘on the platform’ soon after.

Unite, the successor to the T.G.W.U. issued an apology for its shameful discriminatory actions and language in 1963. It was made by Lawrence Faircloth, the union’s South West Secretary, who agreed that its behaviour had been ‘completely unacceptable.’ Hilariously and appallingly, this public apology was made in FEBRUARY 2013. Oh, Perfidious Albion!

The Bristol Bus Boycott was believed to have been an important contributor to the passing of the Race Relations Act of 1965 which made ‘racial discrimination unlawful in public places’, and the Race Relations Act 1968 which extended the provisions to employment and housing.

Plaque attesting to Bristol as Capital of the Atlantic Slave
Trade, 1730-1745
From 12,000,000 captives, 6,000,000 died.

Colston Hall, Bristol.

Juneteenth

 

Celebration of Emancipation Day in Richmond, Virginia, 1905.

Juneteenth, June 19^th is now a federal holiday in the U.S.. In fact, it has been celebrated, especially in Texas, to commemorate the original announcement there, two and a half years late, of The Emancipation Proclamation of 1863. Although the holiday name is new to some, it has long been viewed as a major celebration, especially for and by black Americans. Interestingly, I noticed on the Merriam-Webster website [an impeccable source!] evidence of considerable and consistent use of the word since the late 19^th century.

“Last Wednesday the citizens of this city and vicinity, native Texans, assembled in the fair grounds to commemorate the thirtieth anniversary of the liberation of the bonded Afro-American of Texas.

...Closely following the speakers an animated game of baseball was witnessed, when this happy throng repaired to their homes expressing themselves as highly pleased with their first Juneteenth celebration.”

Parson’s Weekly. [Parsons KY] 22 June 1895.

Sherman people celebrated the Juneteenth at the beautiful Fred Douglas school grounds and the handsome Wood Lake park pavilion, midway between Sherman and Denison, on the electric railway.

Freeman [Indianapolis IN] 27 June 1908.

June 19^th, or, as it is humorously referred to, ‘Juneteenth’ is the day the news of the emancipation proclamation reached Texas, so annually the day is celebrated much as we do the Fourth of July.

Chicago Defender, 3 July 1915.

Tennessee has just banned Critical Race Theory from its schools.

My only surprise at the above quotations is that Texas has never seemed the most non-racist, diversity-encouraging, liberal state! And indeed, it wasn't; the formal Emancipation announcement was imposed on Texas by the Army. I am beginning to write this on Juneteenth, a celebratory date of which I had not heard until perhaps two or three years ago. What recently drew my attention to it was reading that Republicans are setting out to ban Critical Race Theory from school syllabi. I think that Critical Race Theory [CRT] is an academic theory that underlines the critical effect of race on identity and on law-making in America. I would guess that there is a much more extended and sophisticated academic explication of CRT but that is the basis. And that basic truth seems undeniable in any country but overwhelmingly so in America.

That all said, I had a mind, this Juneteenth, to explore Bristol, in England, where a statue of Edward

Edward Colston now housed in
Bristol Museum.

Colston, a prominent slave trader and municipal benefactor, was toppled from its plinth and thrown into the harbour during a Black Lives Matter demonstration in 2020. I am humbled, and aghast, at my discovery of a whole library of slavery information about Bristol and its eminent men of wealth during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Slaves became an increasingly important commodity during the 17^th

Aboard a slaving ship.

century as the British colonisation of the Caribbean and the Americas progressed rapidly; cheap labour was urgently needed for various colonies to work on sugar, rum, tobacco and cotton plantations. The Society of Merchant Venturers, an organisation of elite merchants in Bristol, wanted to participate in this lucrative commerce and eventually, in 1698, they managed, with help from business-men with similar commercial interests in Hull and Liverpool, to break the trade monopoly of the Royal African Company, a powerful London-based group which had controlled all trade between Britain and Africa between 1672 and 1698. As soon as the monopoly was broken, Bristol commenced its participation though there is some evidence for Bristolian illegal slave trade before that date. The first legitimate slave ship from Bristol was the Beginning, owned by Stephen Barker, which purchased and ferried a cargo of enslaved Africans and delivered it to the Caribbean in 1698. In her will of 1693, Jane Bridges bequeathed her share of £130 in this ship, to her grandson, Thomas Bridges and her will indicated that the ship then belonged to the city of Bristol. A full-rigged ship was the essential technology which enabled the transatlantic slave trade to flourish.

Selling slaves in a slave market.

Bristol became one of the biggest centres of the transatlantic slave trade between 1725 and 1740 when up to an estimated 20% profits were made from slave-trading from the city. By the 1730s an average of 39 slave ships left Bristol annually and between 1739 and 1748, there were 245 slave voyages from Bristol, an estimated 37.6% of the whole British slave trade. In the later years of slave-trading, Bristol’s share decreased to 62 voyages while Liverpool’s share increased to 62% or 1,605 voyages. An estimated 2108 slaving traders departed from Bristol between 1698 and 1807 with the average number of slaves per ship believed to be around 250. Thus in a century plus, Bristol’s merchants trafficked more than 500,000 enslaved Africans to the Caribbean and North America. But, it must be added, that estimates suggest that up to half of each ship's slave cargo would perish en route, due to the harsh conditions aboard and the overcrowding. In any event, not a figure to be proud of!

The so-called triangular trade describes the route followed by English merchants from Bristol [or Liverpool or Hull] to north-west Africa, the Caribbean and America during the same period, i.e. 1698-1807. Bristol ships traded their goods for enslaved people from south-east Nigeria and Angola, exchanging goods like copper and brass as well as gunpowder which were typically offered by Bristolian merchants and manufacturers, as payment for shares in the slaving voyage. The ships then sailed to St. Kitts, Barbados and Virginia to supply English colonies requiring cheap or free labour, with the enslaved Africans to work on sugar, cotton and tobacco plantations. In addition to slaves, the British colonies were supplied with a wide range of goods for the plantation owners, such as guns, agricultural implements, soap, candles, ladies’ boots, and food stuffs plus ‘Negro cloth’ for the slaves. At the same time, the slaving ships imported goods produced in the colonies. Thus the British economy was inextricably linked to slave-produced Caribbean goods such as sugar, rum, indigo and cocoa. The imported goods were used in sugar refining, tobacco processing and chocolate manufacture, all important local industries in Bristol which employed thousands of working class people from Bristol and its surrounding areas. Thus the slave trade and its associated commerce was embedded in effect, in the British economy.

Various implements to secure and direct slaves.

Neck rings and chains with a gun in case ......

Cotton plantation.

What's An Idiom Between Friends?

 

An idiom is a phrase, saying or a group of words with a metaphorical [not a literal] meaning which has become accepted in common use. An idiom’s symbolic sense is quite different from the literal meaning or definition of the words used. It is estimated that there are around 25,000 idiomatic expressions in the English language.

Idioms, in fact, help to evolve a language, making it more intense, exciting and dynamic. They provide, or add, considerable illustration to ordinary speech, making everyday language more colourful and often, insightful. Native speakers usually use idiomatic phrases with which they are familiar, without consideration, rather like cliches. They are familiar but useful aids to express emotion or add

descriptive power. To the non-native speaker however, idioms can be bewildering because the intention of a particular idiom is symbolic and the surface language is often incomprehensible.

The reason for this sudden rush of blood to the head about idioms, is because I recently used
the phrase, ‘beyond the pale’ to a Flemish friend who didn’t understand it. While I had no trouble in explaining what the phrase signified I did not know the derivation of the idiom at all.. Now I do!! AND it is really interesting! The general use of ‘pale’ now is as an adjective meaning whitish/light in colour [cf Procol Harum’s Lighter Shade of Pale!] However, the noun, ‘a pale’ is [or was.] a stake or a pointed piece of wood though this use is obsolete now. A variant of it, ‘paling’ is still in use; we can say, ‘a paling fence’ and the verb ‘impale’ is also 

A paling fence.

current. For our present purpose, the paling fence is significant as the term, ‘pale’ came to mean the area enclosed by such a fence. Later that came to mean, figuratively, ‘ an area that is enclosed and safe.’ SO to be beyond the pale came to mean to be outside the area that was safe, that was accepted as home.

Catherine the Great created the Pale of Settlement in Russia in 1791. This title referred to the area of the western border region of the country in which Jews were allowed to live. Apparently, the motive behind the designation, Pale of Settlement, was to restrict trade between Jews and
native Russians. However, some favoured Jews were allowed to live, as a concession, ‘beyond the Pale,’ where, incidentally, they could be both economically more free but probably, existentially less safe. Pales were enforced in some other European countries for similar political/economic reasons, notably the Pale of Dublin [Ireland] and the Pale of Calais, created as early as 1360. [France]

The Pale of Settlement is the central, pale blue section.

Sir John Harington 1560-16!".

The phrase itself came much later than 1360! The first printed reference was seen in 1657 in John Harington’s lyric poem, ‘The History of Polindor and Flostella’. The character, Orthens, takes his love to a country lodge for ‘quiet calm and ease’ but they later dare to go out and ‘Both Dove-like roved forth beyond the pale to planted Myrtle-walk.’ Alas, the lovers are attacked outside and the message from the poem is clear: ‘ If there IS a pale, good people stay inside it to be safe.’ The poem was published only in 1657 though Harington had died in 1612 so the phrase must have been in use by 1612 if it was his original phrase, or earlier if not. There is no written evidence of earlier usage, i.e. before 1612..

There are no doubt innumerable examples of this phrase in modern use. Obama, in The Audacity of Hope, described certain capital crimes as ‘beyond the pale’ as did Senator Paul Ryan in 2016, when he condemned racist comments by Trump. Now that I write that, I realise that Trump himself is beyond the pale in every respect. This modern usage means ' to be outside the limits of acceptable behaviour' and it is currently a very strong, adverse condemnation of some event, character or opinion.

Catherine the Great who created 
The Pale of Settlement in 1791.

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.
.

Not A Game, It's A Religion

 

 I am not sure to whom to give the credit for the  title but he is almost certainly French. Boules games have a long, long history, allegedly dating back through the Middle Ages to ancient Rome and quite probably before that to ancient Greek and Egypt. ,But the form of boules known as the jeu provencal or boule lyonnaise, became incredibly popular during the second half of the 19^th

Ernest Pitiot, a resourceful friend

1910.

Le Joueur de Boules. Gavarni. 1858.

century in France. In this popular form of the game, players rolled their boules, or ran three steps before throwing the boule. Petanque proper, as we might label it, developed as an offshoot or variant of jeu provencal in 1910, in what is now known as the Jules Lenoir Boulodrome in the town of La Ciotat, near Marseilles. A former jeu provencal player named Jules Lenoir was afflicted by rheumatism so badly that he could no longer run before throwing a boule. In fact, he could barely stand. A good friend, Ernest Pitiot, a local cafe owner, wanted to accommodate his friend Lenoir, and he developed a variant of the game in which the length of the field or pitch, was reduced by approximately half, and the player, instead of running to throw a boule, stood stationary within a marked circle. They called this new version, pieds tanques, feet planted [on the ground], a name that eventually evolved into the game’s current name, Petanque. In the same year, Ernest Pitiot and his brother, Joseph, organised the first Petanque tournament in La Ciotat; it was a great success and subsequently the newly-adapted game spread quickly and soon became the most popular form of boules in France.

Petanque, France 1950s perhaps.

Before the mid 1880s, European boules games were played with a solid wooden ball, usually made from boxwood root, a particularly hard wood. The late 1880s saw the introduction of the production of cheap, mass-produced nails and gradually it became the fashion to cover the wooden boules balls with nails, called boules cloutees. After WW1, the adaptation of technology for producing cannon-balls, allowed the production of hollow, all metal balls and from the mid 1920s, les boules integrales were introduced by Paul Courtieu. The integrale was cast in a single piece from a bronze-aluminium alloy and this was further modified by Jean Blanc who invented the process of manufacturing steel balls by stamping two steel blanks into hemispheres and then welding the two halves together to create a boule. With this technological advance, hollow all-metal boules rapidly became the norm we know and love today!

Contemporary women's game

Thus, during the last one hundred years since the all-metal ball has become established, the global spread of the game has accelerated; first from Provence to the rest of France; then to most of Europe and onward to Francophone colonies and countries. In South-East Asia, for instance, countries with French colonial influence such as Laos, Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia are strong supporters of Petanque with many countries worldwide having established national governing bodies similar to the world’s oldest governing body, in France, La Federation Francaise de Petanque et du Jeu Provencal.

And today three of us happily re-started our girls’ Petanque sessions at Minnewater, adjacent to the sun-dappled water and beneath a green forested canopy nearby. The birdsong-filled peace echoing with faint lapping from the lake was soon broken with shouts and whoops from the triumphant and the dejected. Been wondering if Petanque shouldn’t be on the prescription list for various emotional/psychological illnesse

 Rear view of Woman of the Match.

s. 

Blogger in action

View from the Petanque court of the 
Poertoren, now temporarily changed from mediaeval
monument into a Triennale exhibit,
'And The World Keeps Turning.'
by Nnenna Okore.

A Little Normality Returns ....Gilded by the Sun.

 

Awaiting our arrival.
The offending table was within the conservatory on the left.

 I can now boast of TWO social engagements since early March 2020! First was lunch in the rain and the cold, on the newly-opened terrace of Bistro de Schilder on Jan Van Eyckplein two or three weeks ago when friends Joachim and Michael were over briefly from Cologne. In spite of numb legs from the cold, it was a delightful two hours plus, protected somewhat under a large umbrella, and really loving the chance for face to face engagement. Then, this last week, to the home of one of the couples involved in the highly entertaining but often difficult Friday evening quiz. Maurice is a barbecue enthusiast with rather important-looking equipment and the expertise to match. SO all eight of the quizzers went plus another couple who might well have been involved in the quiz had be not been too busy with a constant stream of judicial work from London. So, the ten of us arrived and in time-honoured British fashion, the men gathered at one end of the lawn while the women were seated at the long table to sip champagne. The sun was high, the garden, gorgeous, and the group more than ready to savour real, in-person

togetherness! Subsequently, food arrived to a grateful and appreciative assembly and all was well. In fact, much more than well; the past fifteen months faded away somewhat, and the chance to behave normally, even if in superlative surroundings, sunlit to boot, enthused us all. Quite literally, we basked, in heat and sun; in green and shadow, in pauses and laughter; in silence occasionally and in a frequent babble of sound. Our friendships felt like summer.

As we all relaxed in the unaccustomed company, our host ran up the steps into a small conservatory on the side of the house and we heard him fall. He had caught his leg on a low table as he hurried past and somehow, managed to cut his leg. BUT it was an extraordinarily neat slice down several inches of skin covering the shin bone. How that happened from a kind little table with rounded edges, no one knew, though a square of plate glass, edged with metal, covered the top of the table and presumably must have improbably been involved. Eventually, he was dispatched, with a volunteer chauffeuse, to the family huisart who had offered to staple up the slash for healing to begin. And, as if on cue, the leave-taking began. Apart from the obvious accident, it had been a marvellous event, appreciated even more than normal because of the socialising desert before. I have to say that the warm, sunny glow, apres the barbecue, lit up life for ages.

Masquerading as Croc Dundee

And this morning, to the flower markt on ‘t Zand for small plants for three or four small pots. Alas, I tend to get carried away when I stumble upon floral extravagance which is exactly what happened when I saw a giant pot of bright coral gerberas. Heavenly, though the damned pot was too large for my old-lady-bag-on-wheels, my only carrier now that I have no car. Koen, the lovely plant seller fixed me up so that the bag part drooped at the back while the roped-in gerbera rode majestically on the front part. Alas, as I walked, pulling my prize, the actual bag dragged one corner on the ground and would undoubtedly have holed in one on the homeward journey. SO to New Senses nearby, on the corner of ‘t Zand and Smedenstraat owned by Marco and with his sister Anna i/c waiting on! I explained the problem and it turned out that in Portugal, Marco had been an engineer! Every family needs an engineer, frankly, and Marco put everything in working order while I had a coffee and a wonderful Pasta del Nata tartlet. I was quite soon on my way pulling my floral cargo proudly and securely. The fact that I am quite unable to restore the bag in its original position is presently being ignored!

In actualite, the  Gerbera is even more
impressive!

Serious discussion under the awning.

Along the Coupure this morning. June 6th,

Early this morning, in Astridpark, all fountain and sun.