ANNUAL RAMBLINGS, 2012

The nice thing about this time of year is the chance to reflect and take stock.  In most ways it has been an uneventful year, though not without its highlights and sad moments.  In the summer we received the shocking news that an old BT France colleague had been killed in a road accident on the Thai-Cambodian border.  I worked with Etienne in Paris in the early 1990s, and had got back in contact via Facebook only this year: we’d planned to connect in Paris at some point.  Too late now: carpe diem.  Through the same medium, we’re in touch with another colleague, Martin and his wife Patricia, who live a couple of hours from us in the Languedoc. We’ve also got back in touch with another colleague, also called Martin, and his wife Kath.  My old boss and his wife, Adam and Oona, came to lunch one day in the summer.  Martyn too has been in touch with ex-colleagues this year.  Patrick, has moved with his family from Brixton to the other end of town, and another, Barbara and her husband, parked their vast camper van in the village in the summer, spending a bit of time with us.

But the big news is the arrival of my first great nephew, Thomas, of whom more anon: here he is with two of his great-uncles.

We potter away at our hobbies: Martyn’s model railways progress apace: there’s usually some adjustment going on in the Swiss landscape up in the loft, and the studio in France now includes a dollop of SE England in 1/160 scale.  He’s also giving a lot of administrative help to his cousin who runs a care home nearby: we were also drafted in to redecorate a room for her back in the spring. 

I draw and paint when the spirit moves me, and have turned out a few pot-boilers over the year.  I’m more than half way through my bench ‘career’, and spend rather a lot of time on Magistrates’ Association work – rather more, in fact than on the ‘job’ itself these days, or so it seems.  

The usual Annual Ramblings columns follow.

The Garden

The Justice of the Peace

Successes and failures in just about equal measure this year in the garden.  Our new rose has settled in well.  Launched last year to mark the 650^th anniversary of the beakdom, it turns out to be strong and a prolific bloomer.  Similarly, cosmos grown from seed have done well, and we grew  cherry plum tomatoes in pots with great success (just as well, given the seed price!).  Our seedling rudbeckias were disappointing, though, and not one of the New Guinea impatiens cuttings made it into bloom.  We have fewer leylandii than we had this time last year – the hedge has gone from between our drive and next door’s, and we had another tree cut down this autumn.  We might get brave and have the hedge at the back taken out – we’d gain about 3 metres of garden – but to achieve anything in the space thus gained, we’d probably have to import a lot of soil, and the shady plot would probably not be all that productive.  The phalaenopsis we were given a while back has not only survived but put out a new flower shoot this year.  The hippeastrum, on the other hand, turned its toes up, and left in the municipal brown bin.

Wheels

The VW grumbles along as before, as does the Egg, which is rising 5 years old.  The depreciation curve on the latter is flattening out now, so we’ll probably keep it so long as it stays reliable.  I grizzle at the garage once in a while about the transmission noise from the VW, and they always respond ‘they all do that, sir’.  But in all other respects it is so good that I can forgive it that one fault.  It had a little misunderstanding with a French wall in July, so needed the tailgate dressed out and re-sprayed.  I took the opportunity to have the tinsel left off when they put it together again.  It was fixed locally, cheaply and very promptly, and looks better. 

We were persuaded to rent a Chevrolet Captiva in France in the autumn, having booked something Mégane sized.  Mistake.  OK, it had leather seats, four-wheel drive and an automatic box, but it was a miserable brute to drive.  The seats had absolutely no lateral support, the gearbox was an old-fashioned slush-pump job and hung on to the gears for far too long, even on the ‘eco’ setting. 

On our travels, we made a lot of use of public transport in Germany and Switzerland, using tourist passes.  One day in Switzerland, we used 3 trams, 7 trains, a boat and a bus.  And we took a train from Berlin to Hamburg that continued by ferry across the Fehmarn Belt into Denmark.   Less impressed by the UK system, though I make much use of my old-geezer passes.

Arrivals

Celia and Andy joined us in France for a few days in the summer: a birthday trip for Celia, and a chance for us to thank them for minding the house while we’ve been away.  We did a lot of the familiar trips together: to the seaside, mountains and the Canal du Midi.  Their arrival in Toulouse was a bit like a French farce: there was a lengthy delay in getting their bags delivered to the carousel, and every so often one of them would appear as the doors to customs swung open, just to let us know that they were still there, and still waiting.  Perfect house guests, I should add.

Mihaela, Roger and Rara passed through in August, while we were away.  They had rented a gite up the road from us, so just dropped in to collect Rara’s cot, which is parked on our landing.  They took down and put away the laundry we’d left hanging in July, however!

In northern climes, we had frequent visits from our part-time pet mallards, who raised a small family this year, perhaps consequent on activities we noticed on the pond.  Sad to report that only two ducklings appear to have survived: cats, foxes, jays and magpies will have had the rest, I suppose.

Food and Drink

Restaurant Louis, Neukölln

As a glance at our profiles readily reveals, we are not missing at meal times.  In my planning of the Germany jaunt, I happened on a place in Berlin that boasts the largest schnitzel of the Federal capital.  The doggy bags and tin foil arrived unbidden when we’d capitulated about a third the way through them, and we got two further meals and a sandwich out of them.  Very friendly place: they’d to send out for more meat after we’d ordered, and plied us with brandy while we waited.

We found numerous bonnes adresses in Germany, but scored out a lot in France.  It’s shocking to discover how French catering has declined lately.  Fast food joints used to be a refreshing surprise: more recently they have disappointed, and many middle-of-the-road restaurants are now disappointing.  As for Switzerland, don’t eat on lake steamers unless you have far more money than taste.

Back here, we have a dwindling supply of marmalade under the stairs, but a couple of bottles of sloe gin are coming along nicely.  New recipes: poached haddock for a digestively-challenged lunch guest.  Onions, carrots, celery and vermouth in the poaching liquid; onions and carrots in the accompanying mash. Rillons de porc – a Hugh F-W recipe: look it up.  Delia’s baked trout with crème fraîche and chives.  And Martyn’s and Celia’s delicious and subtly different fish pies.

Clan

Anna and Richard have a fine son, Thomas James, who arrived in the small hours of Fathers’ Day: I had a call from the proud Grandpapa around breakfast time, and we got to see Tom a couple of weeks later.  He appears to be thriving – well, he would, wouldn’t he?

Martyn’s niece Nina has remarried: we were there to share the day with her and Stephen in Rochester.  My cousin’s daughter Ceri too has remarried, and we learn that she and Paul are now expecting a daughter.  Nephew Nel and I play word games together on facebook.  Beware: he’s damn’ good!    

Arts

I

’ve battled my way through the Booker shortlist again this year, but am wondering whether it’s worth the expense and effort.  My favourite was The Garden of Evening Mists.  I have since read the same author’s first novel The Gift of Rain.  We shall see much more of Tan Twen Eng, I hope.  Ms Mantel’s winner was a deserving one.  Mr Self’s Umbrella was an equally deserving loser, yet it’s his book, for all the affectation of his narrative technique, that sticks in my mind.  I think it was that that brought my Kindle to its knees, forcing me to buy a new one.  I did get a bit of discount, fortunately. 

We’ve been to a few live events this year.  An excellent piano recital by Charlie Felter on an upright in the hall over the changing rooms in Lagrasse, and a deafening organ grind, the programme of which was made up of, we thought, deservedly obscure pieces.  In Disgustedville, we’ve seen impressive performances of Calendar Girls and Chicago and a concert of Saint-Saëns and Poulenc pieces for orchestra and organ.  

I keep slapping paint about, and occasionally manage to capture the loose style that I prefer.  It doesn’t work often, but I think I got it in this one.   I do most of my stuff in acrylics, preferably on canvas, but sometimes also on paper, which is far too absorbent until it has had a coat or two of gesso.  Most recently, I've been fiddling about with water colours again, but really lack the discipline and delicacy of touch to use the medium well.

Departures

Having grown up in the 1960s, the building of the Berlin Wall and the confrontation of tanks in the Friedrichstraβe stick in the mind.  Some years ago, I returned briefly to Berlin, and since then have been longing to go back for a longer visit.  This year we took the chance to take a tour in Germany, spending three nights in Berlin and one in Hamburg.  Excellent experience.  Part of the rationale was to visit the huge model railway layouts in each city, and we weren’t disappointed!  Loxx in Berlin is already impressive, but Miniaturwunderland in Hamburg is worth the journey, even if you aren’t interested in model railways.  The sheer scale of the thing is impressive, and the detail and humorous touches are a delight.

In Berlin, we took a free guided tour of the Reichstag building, and don’t hesitate to recommend it.  You have to book in advance, though, so make sure you check in on the web site a couple of weeks before you go.  I think we did a third of the things we’d planned to do, so we may return.  The flat we rented in the former Soviet sector was inexpensive and superb.  It was only when we got home that we discovered that it was built on the site of the Führerbunker, hence the guided tours that stopped from time to time below our living room window.  Looking further out, the huge Tiergarten park dominated the horizon, and a little closer in was the vast memorial to the murdered Jews of Europe.  Between the two is the monument to homosexual victims of the Nazis, who were recognised only decades later.

Oddly enough, we’ve been to Lagrasse several times this year.  We finally got round to re-decorating the guest room, which has been nagging me ever since I bought the place in 1998.  The ceiling paper was sagging, the wallpaper was tasteless and applied over drips of  cement and plaster, and the paintwork was that tired putty colour that tends to prevail in those parts.  Well, the job was a nightmare, and took about 10 days.  We had to take off several layers of wallpaper, and scrape the distemper off every square centimetre of the ceiling.  Then we had to fill the many cracks and fissures in the plaster.  We’d hoped to put paint on the plaster, but part of the wall was badly stained from what must have been a cracked stovepipe, so we had to paper the walls with a robust German vinyl before painting.  We’ll see in a year or so whether that and a coat of size will be enough to keep the tar in its place.

I’ve already touched on our visit to Switzerland, which came as  a welcome refresher after the Lagrasse chores.  Pam and Geoff once again kindly let us use not only their spare flat in Berne, but also their garage (they being in Scotland at the time), and the car remained there until we left.  We’d bought Swiss rail passes, which allow travel on just about everything for four days in a given fourteen, and we set ourselves some testing itineraries.  It’ll be a few years before the Gotthard base tunnel opens, so in the meantime you can still enjoy the amazing climbs and spiral tunnels. The new tunnel will allow a few more utterly relaxing hours in Lugano, of course. 

I think the day I enjoyed most was the one we spent in old haunts around Zürich.  I’d never lingered in Schaffhausen, so we picked up a walking tour leaflet at the station and had a nice amble round the decorated buildings of the old town.  Train N°3 of the day took us to the Rhine falls, where an even more dramatic viewing platform has been built since I was last there in the late 1990s.  (So too has a rather depressing tourist building.)  From there we ambled on three more trains down through the much under-rated Zürcher Oberland to Rapperswil, where we took the steamer back to Zürich, there to get a train back to Berne.

Another day, we rode down to Flüelen, and caught the steamer back up to Luzern.  Lovely views, even though it was hazy.  At various points we met other steamers and motor vessels, and even an ancient steam dinghy.  The exuberant blowing of whistles just confirmed how delightfully zany the Swiss can be, for all the correctness that I must admit to finding almost as attractive.

We wish you all the best for the forthcoming festive hostilities, and as good a 2013 as the increasingly feckless coalition allows. 

 

Martyn & David