Annual ramblings

At last: refitted kitchen

Busy year: we have been knocking items off our to-do list with great gusto.  The main item was the refitting of the kitchen.  After some agonising, we decided to go with project management by our plumber, Jez, whom we like, and whose thoroughness and perfectionism commended him.  In our usual fashion, we gave him a couple of keys and left the country while he and his colleagues got on with it.  It was a disappointment to come home and find (a) the work incomplete, and (b) imperfections, notably in the rather expensive quartz work surface.  Brief hissy fits and rapid responses later, we’re very happy with the new set-up.  But a few trades people have meanwhile had master classes in the meaning of ‘assertive’.

Given my hobby, I’m inhibited from direct political comment.  I think I’m allowed, however, to say how I feel.  Glad, on the one hand, to have a decent pension income.  Uncomfortable, on the other, at the distance between us and our honest, hard-working concitoyens, and at the precipitate rate at which it grows.  Never mind the less honest ones.  As regards the Criminal Courts Charge, I think I'm allowed to say I'm pleased it is being abolished.

I’m conscious of growing older and grumpier.  Joint pain is something familiar to many of you, and I’m conscious of a tendency to grizzle when it hits me.  I’m at last getting some advice, and hope it’ll do some good.  I note, after following Nigel Lawson through the metal detector in Toulouse a while back, that joint replacements aren’t without their disadvantages.

As I write, we’re all reeling from the barbarity of the attacks in Africa, the Middle East and France.  I’d be wrong to blame religion for the hatred and violence that are our daily rations lately.  It’s all about power and territory, and religion just provides a hook on which to hang one’s Kalashnikov.  Nothing new, though – look how vested interests turned on the Cathars, whose practice of their faith came closest to that of their prophet.  It’s all about tribalism, and it’s hard to see how our species has any moral superiority over packs of dogs. 

Clan

We had a lovely day in Lavenham with Gill, Chris and their daughters Penelope and Amanda in the summer, and a good lunch gathering at Covent Garden with a bunch of Canadian cousins.  Susan Philips (Mrs Jack Schultz) offended me mortally by not looking an hour older than when I last saw her 30 years ago.

Sad to say, Martyn’s niece Nina’s second marriage seems to be coming to an end.  Such a shame: we had such hopes for her life together with Steve.

As for us, it’s more than nine years since our civil partnership ceremony, and getting on for 15 years since we met and bonded.  What lucky men we are.  Well, I certainly am: His Grace will brief you privately as required. 

A happy day in August too, at the wedding of Martyn’s cousin Kelly and her man Nick.  We’d met them for supper in London a while back, and were delighted to be there when they tied the knot. 

Garden

We had a crowd round in July to help us celebrate my starting to take some money back from the DWP (ignoring for a moment the fact that HMRC claws back 40% of it!).  Unfortunately, by the day of the birthday party, the roses were between flushes, and the day started damp and grey.  But by the time the guests arrived, the sun had come out, and it was dry enough for those who felt like it to sit out on the grass. 

The Justice of the Peace

It’s coming to the point where we shall soon need some help with the garden, but I ought to be able to chase the mower round the grass for a season or two yet.  We had good crops of spuds in bags and big pots, and onions from the raised bed, but the beans were a dismal failure.  I started them too early.  As for the spuds, forget Rocket, plant Maris Peer if you like them bland, but concentrate on Charlotte for texture, flavour and a rich buttery colour.  And the tall growing bags produce better results than the big pots we’ve tended to use in the past.

At the time of writing, the outdoor chives and mint are going into dormancy, so the newly re-tiled kitchen window ledge was full up with indoor varieties until the fruit flies in the compost hatched and mutiplied.  We need to clear out the raised bed before the winter sets in, and improve it with some local horse.  But I think it’s best suited to herbs, and maybe a few rows of leeks and onions. 

Arrivals

Annie was with us briefly in January after a trip away to Spain with her brother.  In the summer we had a visit from Joan and Michael, so we had a lot of fun catching up on each other’s lives since we last met, decades ago.  We took them for a ride on one of our local preserved steam railways near Tenterden, and showed them round Bodiam’s spectacular moated Norman castle.  Michael has some mobility problems, so top marks to the National Trust for spotting the fact and coming to our rescue with a golf cart. 

In Another Place, we had the great privilege of hosting a couple of the artists at this year’s En Blanc et Noir.  Yshani Perinpanayagam slummed it for B&B with us, and she and the equally talented Johnny Herford, whom she accompanied next day, joined us for supper.  I got the chance to coach him modestly on some of the German in Heidenröslein, his performance of which, even in the difficult acoustic of the church, was exquisite.  More under Arts.

Departures

As usual, we’ve made three trips to Lagrasse this year.  The summer’s travels were complicated by the problems at Calais: tunnel closures because of attempted invasions by migrants/refugees, and motorways blocked with burning tyres by protesters against the forced divestiture by Eurotunnel of a ferry operation.  At significant expense, we switched at the last minute to the long and tedious crossing between Newhaven and Dieppe.  Good news: a shorter drive to the port, and from the port south.  Bad news: four-hour crossings liberally laced with Other People and their sprogs, long waits before boarding and after docking, and gravely mediocre catering.

While at home in August, and after Kelly and Nick’s wedding, we spent a pleasant hour in Poynton with my 1974 translator colleague Susie Platt (we hadn’t met in the interim), reviewing photo albums of the Lausanne Congress.  From there, we headed over the Woodhead to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park to meet Annie, heading thence in convoy to Hull for a couple of nights.  Annie came south with us (in dreadful weather) as far as Cambridge, where we all enjoyed a fine watercolour exhibition at the Fitzwilliam. 

The view from the apartment

We took advantage of our September/October visit to try out Mr O’Leary’s Carcassonne-Porto service, which operates on Wednesdays and Sundays.  Martyn found a fabulous apartment overlooking the sea in Nevogilde (a 20-minute bus ride from central Porto), and it took a deliberate effort to get us out of it: the view of the Atlantic breakers on the rocks across the street was hypnotic.  We made a few trips into the city, enjoying an utterly zany moto-cross event on the waterfront, plus visits to the Stock Exchange Palace, the cathedral and the Lello Brothers’ remarkable Art Nouveau bookshop.

We took a train ride up the valley of the Douro to Pinhão.  As some know, my Portuguese is pretty limited.  It was a comfort, then, to find the ticket office at São Bento labelled in English as well as Portuguese.  But you have to take a ticket at one of the dispensers according to the variety of travel you want, then wait your turn.  When our number came up, the fellow we were sent to spoke no English.  Well, after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing, we got our tickets, and I even managed to get my old geezer discount (Eu tenho 65 anos).  The ride begins unspectacularly – and it was a misty morning, which didn’t help.  But a couple of hours in, the line winds giddily down to the banks of the Douro, which it follows up the valley between the world-famous terraces of vines.  Of Pinhão, the situation is lovely, and the azulejos on the station building are amazing.  We took a little boat ride up the river, then had a spot of lunch which was practically given away by a decent enough café-snack bar.  The train to Pinhão and back down to Régua was a bit shabby, but it got us there.  From Régua back to Porto Campanhã, the train appeared to have been refitted more recently (although I’m told the lavatory was no less rustic).  Much of the legend on the walls was in Spanish, so it looks like CP has been buying second-hand from Renfe.  Of Mr O’Leary’s flying bus, the less said, the better, but it got us there and back.

Wheels

In France in the spring we rented a car on the basis that it would be a SEAT Altea or similar.  As Martyn’s car is an Altea, we jumped at that.  Imagine my joy when the allocated car turned out to be a minimally made-over delivery van.  Lovely engine, viceless clutch and gearbox (which it was a comfort to find I can still operate).  But the steering was utterly devoid of feel, it handled with the precision of a container vessel and it rolled like an elderly 2CV.  Nissan NV200.  Avoid.

While toying with replacing the VW, I booked a test drive of a Škoda Yeti.  Competent little car, but the gearbox had the hesitancy to take up drive that we encountered in Egg1, and when I had to brake a bit sharply at one point, the response was not sharp.  So that one’s off the list.

I had been planning to turn in one or other of the cars this year, but the scandal at VW is forcing us and many others to sit on our hands and await developments.  Martyn’s car is not affected, but mine is, and I await a recall.  What the yet to be developed modification will do to performance and fuel consumption remains to be seen, but an adverse impact on resale value is inevitable.  I have signalled an interest to one of the law firms that is planning a class action.

Arts

Once again the highlight of the year was En Blanc et Noir, the summer piano music festival in Lagrasse.  Again we were regaled with fine performances by young virtuosi, many of whom we got to meet.  The performers seem to enjoy the intimate atmosphere of Lagrasse: it’s such a pleasure for the audience too to bump into them in the market or at the café, or during a walk through the vines and olives.  Janneke Brits and her husband James Kreiling gave the finale last year with a terrific performance of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring for four hands.  James’s teacher taught at a school where one of his predecessors was Gustav Holst.  While clearing out a cupboard, said later teacher found a manuscript transcription, in Holst’s hand, of the Planets, and Janneke and James performed it for us in Lagrasse, again as the finale of the festival.

I took Janneke to the airport at the end of the festival, and she told me they’d found it difficult to capture the ethereal moments of the suite without benefit of strings!  The gusting wind didn’t help either: the music didn’t quite fly away, but page-turner Bobby Mitchell struggled to keep the music in front of them.  Memorable performance nonetheless.  Bobby also gave a fine performance, including some favourite Gershwin pieces.  I’m working on him to do the impromptu in two keys and the three-quarter blues  next year.

One afternoon, as I was getting in the washing, I was amazed to hear a piano transcription of the adagio from Beethoven’s 7^th symphony wafting over the rooftops.  The performance later that day was a delight.  Four hands: Ivan Ilic and the 17 year old Paul Salinier.  I had the privilege of taking young Paul and his parents to the station at the end of the series.  Lovely people.  Paul is preparing his concours next spring at the Paris Conservatoire. 

Historia’s play, Magna Carta, has toured extensively this year, to good reviews.  We saw it at St Mary-le-Bow in the summer, and again at Rochester Cathedral in November.

Gruissan boat for Barbara

As for my hobby painting, the year has been relatively barren.  At the time of writing, I’m struggling with a piece that aims to capture the colours of the waterfront at Ribeira (Porto) and the animation of the moto-cross that was going on while we were there.  Better results from a re-visit to the little boat at the Saint-Martin salt pans near Gruissan; we delivered the canvas to its new owner in the summer.  Apart from that, I’ve done a few tiny watercolour vignettes, but the arthritic mitts are starting to impede me.  Or is it the shaky hands, side-effect from palliative oenotherapy?

Food and Drink

More of the same, really.  We had a decent meal or two at the Palm Beach at La Franqui and at the reliable Auberge du Somail.  The Majestic Café in Porto was a treat: Martyn’s steak and my magret were both excellent, and of course the ambience and service are superb. 

Back at home, we’re slowly learning the new kitchen kit, and we’ve treated ourselves to a couple of new toys: a slow cooker for succulent casseroles eg of braising steak; and a mini-madeleine tin, in which Mr Roux’s recipe works well.  We keep the bread machine busy as ever.  We generally use it just for the kneading, and the new oven does a better job on the baking than the old one.  The older equipment serves us well too: in the winter we make lots of soups, and rarely throw chicken bones or ham boiling water away until they’ve contributed to stock, thanks to my new (bought in 1997) Swiss pressure cooker.

John, Martyn and Susie

When we called on her and John in Poynton back in August, Susie regaled us with delicious drop scones.  Must have another go at them.  I’ve had mixed results with crumpets (as the Bishop said to the actress), but think I understand the failures: milk too hot when I added the yeast (total failure), too timid with the heat under the pan, and not leaving them on the heat till they shrink away from  the crumpet rings.  Given one’s girth, perhaps one should admit defeat and retire gracefully.  But when they are good, they are very very good.

Martyn is the pastry cook, and produced some spectacular gâteaux for the July party.  I saw a recipe recently for a gin & tonic drizzle cake, but have so far failed to persuade him to make one!

What next?

Though we grizzle about our aches and pains, we’re quick to acknowledge how much healthier we are than many of our friends and family members, and send hugs and good wishes to you all. 

In the political world, it’s odd to see government Ministers jockeying for position at the left wing of the governing party.  It’ll be interesting to see whether the Chancellor has any more rabbit-billions to pull out of the hat.  Like many, I’m worried about how the cuts will impact on justice.  I’ll probably continue subsidising it, though whether for my remaining four and a half years before retirement remains to be seen.

But the spring bulbs are already pushing their noses through the soil (let’s hope the winter frosts don’t cut them down) so there’s a colourful spring to look forward to.

Greetings from us both

 M&D