Sun, Nov 14 - Oxford with Susan

The New Tricks download to BBC iPlayer finished overnight. Purled a few rows. Toasted a couple hot cross buns (bought at M&S yesterday) for breakfast. Took a quick bath while Susan's wash swished and sloshed.

Bakerloo line to Baker Street. Most other tube lines are disrupted for engineering work. The Jubilee is down completely. Stood in the light rain on Gloucester Road waiting for the X90 to Oxford to rumble up the road from Victoria via Marble Arch.

I might have wanted to be a vet when I was a kid, like Charlie. I speculate the difference between us lies in the 'wanting' rather than the 'vet'. 'Wanting', to me (even then), is a considered deliberate state -- not a passing fancy. And somewhere in there is the thought one can only 'want' what one CAN have. If one cannot have it (by virtue of who one 'is', or one's specific circumstances) even if one wanted it, then there is something flawed about the state of 'wanting' it. (Maybe 'wanting' becomes 'day-dreaming', or something). So 'I want to be a good girl' or 'I want a pair  classic sandals' are 'want-able' things, whereas 'I want a pair of $1000 Nikes' or 'I want to be a vet' are not. Or in the case of the vet, are so 'un-knowable' (I do know there are a lot of things that go into becoming -- and being -- a vet, but I don't know what they all are, so am not in a position to evaluate whether or not they are things I can/could have or be or do, and am hence not in a position to 'want' -- or not want -- them).

Talked and purled the ride to Oxford. Arriving home for Susan is the descent down the hill on the edge of the centre of town. We got off at the stop on the High Street. It was still raining lightly.

I'm looking at everybody wearing knits -- to see whether I like them and would I like to knit them. I'm drawn into Brora. Beautiful cashmere knits. The 'ribbed shawl bolero' in 'cocoa' (ie dark brown) feels (and looks) especially good; I like the way the diagonally cut front edge still falls nicely when you pull the cardigan closed over you. The 'ribbed shawl cardigan' in 'cassis' (ie purple) is a little more chic, it's true -- but the bottom edge looks messy when you pull it around you. The 'aran knit coat' has a nice neck/breast line, but the bottom half is too chunky. And the 'long ribbed cardigan' is sleek, but the v-neck line is boring. Oh and - the tweed biker jacket is very cool, a tight knit with a diagonal zipper and overlapping collar. Susan liked the 'moss stitch bolero' -- a little jacket-y thing that rides above the waist and looks nice over a dress.

Susan showed me the Covered Market off High Street, and the store Fasta Pasta where she bought her first fresh pasta (to cook) at the age of 18. Got a crepe (with cheese and mushroom) before we exited and made our way over to the back entrance of the Ashmolean for tea in the roof-top restaurant. The restaurant was so busy that while they typically do start serving tea at 3pm, they weren't today. We took the refurbished stairs down the new light-well, and popped into the European Galleries for a look at the hand-painted pottery from Perugia and Deruta. Susan likes the plates with a central figure and a decorative pattern around the edges. I like the more geometric patterns produced in Delft. And the Minoan octopus on the cover of the brochure.

Continue over to the Pitt-Rivers Museum since it's due to close at 4.30pm. There are massive tree roots on low platforms displayed outside. We pass through the dinosaurs and stuffed birds of the Natural History museum main hall where children are busy cutting out and coloring butterfly shapes. The Pitt Rivers collection of odds and ends, different continents and countries all jumbled together in one case but proving all the more enlightening for it, lies behind. A male 'docent' of Persian aspect and accent (turns out he is from 'Jerusalem') points out a wart cure involving a slug impaled on a thorn to us, from Shropshire. And then he just carries on, telling us the story of this and that. We haven't seen the Shrunken Heads? Why, follow me. The skull is removed and all the gray matter and subcutaneous fat scraped out, then the face is re-shaped and the sown-up head is dipped in a liquid that hardens it. The process takes three days, and is reserved for enemies. Revered members of the community get to keep their skulls. The shrunken heads confer on the wearer the strength of the slain enemy, and also keep the dead enemy's spirit at bay. Our Palestinian friend also made sure we saw the Hawaiian headman's cloak made up of 100s of 1000s of tiny feathers; an amazing feat, and quite beautiful. He had studied law but either didn't want to continue in it or the recession precluded finding a job, and he was working at the museum as a stop-gap measure. He seemed far too knowledgeable about the artifacts to be doing it purely on a whim.

Also visited the Special Exhibit on Wilfred Thesinger, 'greatest British explorer of the 20th century'. And he took lots of photos and was a travel writer. Was born in Addis Ababa, returned to the UK for his education, but pined for East Africa and returned there for the coronation of Ras Tafari / Emperor Haile Salassi and remained as part of the Political Service, but more importantly to camp and hunt and explore.

Had hot chocolate and a brownie at the original Maison Blanc on (or just off) St Giles, heading North towards Somerville College. Susan used to bike down St Giles to town. Maison Blanc is the pet project of the wife of the master chef Raymond Blanc, and was started in Oxford in 1981. Susan likes the decor -- the black and white photographs of Paris in golden frames, the taupe banquets along one wall, the blue chair covers (though she'd use the egg-shell blue of her agenda), the light (in this window-less room). Something gave me indigestion as we walked back to town; it might have been the water.

Walked back to town along back streets, passing the Radcliffe Camera and cutting through the Oxford Union. It had long stopped raining and a crescent moon was shining. Walked with Susan down St Aldates to the bridge then doubled back for Evensong at Christ's Church. A choir of 14 small boys and 16 university students, singing the most ethereal harmonising 'staggered' lines (...I don't have the words to describe the musical forms...). The reading from the Old Testament was Daniel in the Lions' Den (really?Darius decreed that all should worship Daniel's god after he emerged unscathed from the den?) and from the New Testament was something from Matthew, something about Jesus doing the impossible so we should too, I can't quite remember.

The X90 bus passed me as I was just 100m from the stop, so I made a mad dash for it. Purled some more but then encountered a dropped stitch which I tried to fix but couldn't, so figured I'd wait for Susan's assistance.

Got my first 'ready-meal' from Sainsbury's (mince in sauce with veggies and potatoes) and watched the New Tricks download.

Dettie skyped. Told me how she's shrunk 9cm and her trousers don't fit so she has to take them up. In the x-rays (or scan?) you can see how her discs are wafer thin. She's in pain if she stays in one position for too long. She has a visit to the neurologist scheduled for tomorrow. Wim, meanwhile, isn't doing so well. He can't remember or do anything, because of the medication he's being given to 'subdue his emotions.' 'They don't want to deal with anyone troublesome, so they just sedate them.' It turns them into vegetables. So Dettie insisted they stop giving Wim the medication, and the two of them were able to go to the garden centre together yesterday. Wim and Dettie will be celebrating Sinterklaas with Gabrielle and Mariette on Dec 5th. 'The kids don't want to do it anymore; they find it boring. But for us it's gezellig.' Dettie asked whether I'd be spending Christmas with the family in the US, and when I told her I was still in London, asked when I'd be coming to Holland and reminded me to be sure to tell her when I arrived and to feel welcome to stay with her.

Vernon had emailed to say Glide today had been a 'watershed.' I wonder what he means by that. Watershed - and he feels whole-heartedly reunited with the fold... or Watershed - and he's never going to go back there?  Jim emailed to suggest we skype, but we missed each other. Marie emailed to say she and Robert are quite broken-up now (as of this last week), and that Kate hasn't shown any sign of life - or welcome - from London.

Fell asleep watching New Tricks. Woke up around 1.30am, in time to welcome Susan home (and give her my knitting to fix - required taking out a few rows, which it was good to see done).

Sat, Nov 13

Fri, Nov 12 -

Thurs, Nov 11

Wed, Nov 10 - Charlie: Anchor & Hope, World Wildlife Photography at V&A

8.15am Woke up. Susan out the door by 8.30am. Cold and sunny out.

8.40am Thought I'd blog for an hour (a good habit to get into: blog for an hour right after Susan leaves in the morning) and then bake some biscotti before meeting with Charlie for lunch at the Anchor & Hope.

As it turned out, I updated 'Writing on the Road' blog until noon. I'm nominally caught up -- I have an entry for every date, even if it's only a title/summary of the day's activities. I'd like to add a photo per day. It makes it so much more alive. It would be nice to tell some more stories as well... and fill in some memory gaps (it's an odd feeling, drawing a complete blank on a whole morning or afternoon).

***

Lunch with Charlie at Anchor & Hope -- venison & pate & red endive salad. Followed by walk along the Thames in golden afternoon light to Westminster tube. Came across dissolving Student March, leaking across the bridge onto the Southbank from Parliament Square or Trafalgar Square or somewhere.
Charlie's last two years:
- Mali in Jan 2009
- 6 month contract with Fox-Pitt (implementing or managing a FactSet Portfolio Analysis project, I think)
- Sept 6, 2009: Embarked on John O'Groats to Lands End walk (the 1,100 miles JOGLE). Made it to Edinburgh before her leg started hurting badly and the doctor told her she probably had a stress facture, which wouldn't necessarily show up on an x-ray anyway, and to stay off it.
- Returned home to figure out what to do instead
- Trip to Afghanistan
- Family geneaology
- Trip to Kyrgystan?
- April 2010: Picked up walk in Edinburgh
- Nov 15, 2010: Starts job with head-hunter

***

World Wildlife Photography exhibit at the V&A

Tues, Nov 9 - Alexandria's for Lunch & Chat & Youtube

Rainy day. Bucketing down.

Alec's B'day. Watched the videos he's posted for October on Pampoosh website. Very cute ones of Felix feeding Gideon, Gideon falling asleep, Alec playing hide and seek with a stationary Gideon, Talia reading 'The Monster at the End of the Book' to Felix.

10.15am Caught the 172 to the Old Kent Road to the Post Office Depot to pick up the package that couldn't be delivered to me. Went several stops beyond, to the PC World. You can't return (or even exchange) switches to PC World either, once you've opened the box. Bloody hell. Right, I'll give calling BT one last try, to get Susan's wireless working on my laptop. / Walked the 4 or so stops down past the ASDA and the B&Q and the Lidl and the Curry's in the rain, to Mandela Way and the Post Office depot. The woman behind the counter didn't even check my ID, just passed me the box. Only noticed it was ripped open after I'd left the office. Couldn't be bothered to go back to complain about it; didn't really think there was anything in the box that would have fallen out, anyway. It's the box I'd mailed to myself from Holland (gosh that took a long time to arrive! more than a month!) with papers of Mom and Huub's.

12.33pm Caught the slow train to Twickenham for lunch with Alexandria and Ben


16.41 Caught the fast train via Richmond to Waterloo

18-19.00 On the phone with Vicky at BT, trying to get the wireless to work -- with success!

Skyped with Paul

Printed out biscotti recipes with an eye to baking tonight

Susan home around 8.30pm. Dinner of Sardinian pasta-lettes with delicious almond pesto from Gelupo.

Skyped with Vernon -- on wireless, in the bedroom!

22.30 Too late to start on biscotti... fell asleep reading 'Exterminate all the brutes' while Susan took a bath and did some work

Mon, Nov 8 - ??morn?? - Ian's for US taxes, Spinning Camden

Morn?

Ian's from 3pm-5pm... finally did pull up tax forms on the computer and started filling them in.

6.30pm Spinning at Camden

Dinner = spinach + beetroot + walnut + blue cheese salad... Susan had already had liver and was on the verge of tackling work, but we got talking, and then I got skype IM-ing with Grant & Viola & Alec (all separately)

Sun, Nov 7 - Violet Christening & Tas, Artisan & Vine w Ian

Sat, Nov 6 - Lewes Buttercup Lunch, Train, Mediatheque (Prick Up Your Ears)

Fri, Nov 5 - Lewes for Bonfire Night

Thur, Nov 4 - Swimming at Oasis, James Turrell at Gagosian, Kings Cross Road

Morn? Eve?

Tube to Tottenham Court Road. Bought a packet of sushi rice at the Japanese store underneath Center Point (it now comes in a cardboard box; used to be a brick encased in plastic). The buildings being constructed opposite the church, extending to the north side of the Shaftesbury intersection, have been completed. Some shops are about to open at the ground level. The three (or four?) towers come in the colors of a construction worker's protection gear -- reflective orange, lime green, yellow. Seems like an inside joke to me.

There was a flyer announcing a charity bike ride in Malawai in July 2011 at the front desk at Oasis. Coincidence?

Got sent back inside by the North African looking lifeguard to take a shower. Put on my new Speedo swim cap, purchased in San Francisco to protect my head against the freezing cold of the Pacific. This is the first time I'm wearing it. Figure it'll be better for my (now long) hair not to get soaked in chlorine.

Swam a kilometre or so. Each length is 27.5m, I think. I did 5 laps (there-and-backs) of crawl, then 5 of breast stroke, then another 5 of crawl and another 5 of breast stroke. 20 laps in all, each lap is about 50m, so 1000m approx. I could swim more, I suppose. I'm getting tired after 1000m, but am by no means at my limit. It does get a bit boring. It takes about 1/2hr (a little less). I could put in an hour. Whaddya say? Maybe I'll work up to 25 laps next time. Then add one each time till I hit 30. We'll see.

Weren't they rennovating the changing rooms as I was leaving? They're as manky as ever. Especially the toilets.

Walked down New Oxford and then across uncharted territory to Britiannia Street and the Gagosian Gallery. Turned north up Bedford and hit Russell Square a little unexpectedly. Such a beautiful garden. And enjoyed by many. The leaves are turning and littering the ground. The fountain centre piece is still bubbling. The 'arbor' walkway is golden. Turned right at the Russell Square tube and passed Brunswick Place. Kept on straight, skirting sports fields, and came upon the Foundling Museum (aha!). There's a show on of snippets of textile from swaddling clothes that the Foundling Hospital sisters would keep as the only link between the abandoned infant and the mother. Passed a local community garde <find name> and felt happy the plot had been saved from office development, but was saddened by its under-use and under-lovedness (relative to Russell Square, for example). Maybe parks need to be thorough-fares so as to be re-charged by that energy of movement (rather than stagnating as eddies off the beaten track). Hmm. And then I headed north on Grays Inn Road to Britannia Street, and spotted the long-ish building on the north side of the street which must be the Gagosian, with a gaggle of girls in short skirts and berrets and ripped tights and boys with gel tousled hair in wool pea coats emerging.

James Turrell - matmos room, depth perception messed with, colors of the white ante room changing (to green yellow etc)

Walked down to Kings Cross Road to find the 45, and was drawn into Nevin's, a 'traiteur' opened in February with an ecclectic collection of Spanish and French and Italian goodies. Got talking to Ben, the co-founder, about the challenges. Then a young guy walked in with his computer, so stopped grilling Ben (seemed inappropriate to go on asking him personal questions about running his business), and got chatting to him. Studied International Development at SOAS but has been out for 2 years already and doesn't know what to do. Is keen on music and DJs. Compared music to art -- said he doesn't 'get' what's good in art; whereas with music, what's good gets danced to, and what isn't doesn't -- it's clear. Liked that reflection. Followed him to an old Italian deli close to Kings Cross (KC Continental -- like KC and the Sunshine Band...but not ;) where you can bring your own baguette and have meat cut into it for a sandwich -- for just GBP4! The owner still doesn't speak much English (after decades in London) and is partial to serving Italian speakers first. Smelled of parma ham. Lovely.

Caught the bus back home about 4.30pm & put my feet up...

?? Walk with Susan along Southbank in the evening?? Bumped into Vincent

Wed, Nov 3 - ??day??, i-to-i TEFL info, Southwark College Open House,

Still feeling blech.

Tube strike

Surfed the web regarding TEFL. Came across i-to-i, which offers a lot of on-line courses. They have a 10-question 'quiz' which is supposed to help you determine whether TEFL is for you -- and it does a good job of giving you a feel for what teaching entails -- what qualities a teacher needs (be flexible, open minded, able to think on your feet, etc), what a teacher's roles are (coach, manager, assessor, etc), elements of lesson planning, sample games for keeping learners awake and involved, and so on.

Determined to go to the Southwark College Open House at 4.30pm, then spinning with Tim at Waterloo at 6.30pm. Checked the website at about 4pm, and realized that there's another campus in Bermondsey, and that's where the Film/Photography and Engineering/Electrician stuff is taught; Waterloo has the Business Admin and EFL and Beauty School. / Walked down to the bus stop under the Stamford Street railway bridge (since the tube wasn't working) and missed a bus along the way...next one came shortly after 5pm, and then there were roadworks on Jamaica Road that slowed traffic to a crawl... so only got to the college around 5.30pm and was going to have to leave again before 6pm in order to get back for the spinning class at Waterloo at 6.30pm. / There was a queue for the Engineering tutors, so I asked to see the Art & Design folks first. Got talking to Toby, a fair haired chap with glasses (very faintly reminiscent of a Mr Skirrow with floppy hair) who teaches the Film course, and came to understand that the 'College' is for 16-19 year olds doing A-level work. Ah. Toby suggested I look at courses offered by the Documentary Film Group. Also talked to Kev, who teaches photography. He strongly suggested I look at 'Higher Education' courses rather than 'Further Education' courses (HE rather than FE) at the likes of Goldsmiths. Had some photos taken by a photo student (had been bombarded by the bright flashes of students horsing around in the 'studio' throughout my conversations with Toby and Kev), which Kev promised to send me along with info about his next course.

Caught a bus back fairly promptly, but only got to Stamford Street around 6.22pm, so I missed the spinning class. Probably just as well. Hadn't eaten all day. Felt I could manage a can of ravioli which I picked up at the Costcutters, and had that while Susan had her 'comfort fast food', baked beans & cottage cheese, and called candidates for the Human Rights Strategic Advisory Group <?>

Tues, Nov 2 - Unwell/Cramps

Did I stay in bed all day and read Crime & Punishment?

Crampy, or maybe the sushi last night wasn't particularly fresh, or maybe I've got the flu-bug Susan had last week, or maybe the sauna right after the heavy exercise wasn't a good idea...

Half thought I'd make it to Tim's spinning class at Covent Garden, and might have if it had been at 1.30pm instead of 1pm... but compulsive reading meant I'd be leaving too late to be sure of catching the start

Mon, Nov 1 - ??day??, Spinning Camden,

Getting my period...

6.30pm Spinning with Tim in Camden. He noticed I'd lost weight. Said I looked good from the waist down, but that my torso and arms were 'too thin'. 'I'm a personal trainer; I know.' Said he'd give me some upper body exercises to do if I got to his Tuesday mid-day class at Covent Garden a little early. / Sauna'ed and washed & blow-dried hair. / Ate a banana before class and after. Got handed a couple of coupons to Camden Soho by leafleters right outside, as I was going in. / Afterwards walked up Camden Road, past the Roundhouse, to Feng Sushi by Chalk Farm tube. Had some sushi. / Home about 9.30pm.

Sun, Oct 31 - Email, Stanford's, Westminster Abbey w Susan, Biscotti

Clocks Fall Back

Awoke 8am (new time). Read and dozed off. Dreams of Mom, and me saying I couldn’t get out of bed without a reason, and seeing Saj briefly who then disappeared with his crew. Awoke for real about 10am (11am old time). Susan in bed deciding which biscotti recipe to pursue. Prepared some granola + yoghurt + berries, and was deciding to go to St Paul’s when Susan said she’d been thinking of going to Westminster at 3pm, so said I’d do that with her instead. Leafed through the Lonely Planet West Africa ahead of returning it (along with the Chris Scott Sahara Overland guides). The ‘itineraries’ LP suggests include flying from Dakar to Accra, skipping Guinea, Sierra Leone, Liberia, Ivory Coast..hmm. Benin sounds quite nice. Togo was nice until it fell apart (when was Huub there, again? Before 1972, I expect…). Burkina Fasso has great people. Ghana would be worth a visit. Wren wants to drive to Benin. I don’t ‘see’ her buying a car (5x the price of a car in the UK) and driving there, personally…but that doesn’t mean she won’t manage to get there overland in some way…but my ‘not seeing’ HOW means I’m not so keen to ‘chance’ it. I can’t evaluate the odds. And my ‘gut’ is skeptical. I’m admittedly still ‘reeling’ from her backing out of driving from here to Mali.  I’m keeping the LP book on Volunteering and the one about Teaching ESL Abroad. Maybe I’ll pick up a book on East Africa – I’d somehow rather go and explore Ethiopia, Kenya, Tanzania, Rwanda, Uganda, Malawi than go to Mali again…even if Burkino Fasso and Benin were tacked on. Ama is in Addis, and Susan is keen to visit her as well. Dumi may still be in Malawi. I must email him to see how and what he’s doing. / Walked across Waterloo Bridge at gray noon, and stopped in at Malpin Electronics to see about a splitter for Susan’s Ethernet. Costs 20 quid for a 5-slot box, plus 5 each for two more cables; not worth it. / Continued up past the Lion King and through Covent Garden. Stopped in at the Outlet Store and Birdie’s (?) shoe store. Would like a ‘stoere’ mini skirt and some nice high boots; the fashion this year is all me, too bad I don’t want to be spending any money on clothes these days. / Stanford’s to return the West Africa books, and browse – East Africa, Ethiopia, Malawi (the latter two Bradt guides)…and some cycling stuff in the England section.  A guy (b 1983) biked around the world and wrote a book about it. Grew up on a farm and was home schooled (seems to be the way to go, to produce adventurous spirits), and first did cross-Scotland, then End to End, and in Uni decided that he wanted to go ‘round the world, spending about a year planning it and only getting sponsorship right at the last minute. His Mum was his logistics manager while he was on the road. Made me determine I want to have a multi-day bike ride in my life this coming year (Oct to Oct). Maybe Italy or France. Who’d be up for doing that with me? Or maybe Malawi. Dumi is big into his biking. How about a ride for charity around Lake Malawi, to raise money for people affected by AIDS? / Byron called and I reeled off the books I’ve been reading – Great Gatsby, Catcher in the Rye, To Kill a Mocking Bird… and now Crime & Punishment. He’d read GG thoroughly with Nelson, and said Daryl had gotten into emulating Holden and Byron had had to hide the book. Byron is going to be in London at the end of November to launch the McKinsey Education Report (?). It was going to be launched at the OECD in Paris, but the head honcho there can’t make it, so it’s likely to move to London. Sat on the steps by the Pret and stared absently at the screen mounted above the Diwali celebration in Trafalgar Square until I’d finished my mozzarella & tomato croissant (to which I’m oddly addicted). / Walked down Whitehall to Parliament Square talking to Byron. Hung up in front of the Abbey, where I was meeting Susan for the 3pm service. Men in red keep tourists at bay at the gate. We ushered up the left aisle and took our seats on the left side of the transept. It’s a cramped space, for such a large cathedral; you walk a mile down the nave only to be squashed into the transept. You need to arrive early to get a seat in the three rows from which you can see anything . St Paul’s is open and airy and spacious by comparison. Wren’s 17C structure decorated with gold mosaics of men in flowing robes, vs the linear Gothicism of Westminster – built when? In the 1200s, over a couple of centuries? The sermon was in aid of combating leprosy – we have bad memories but good forget-ories, the speaker noted. Leprosy (and lepers) are forgotten, but have by no means disappeared. Someone is newly infected with leprosy every two minutes. I’ll have to steal that angle for my next ALC appeal. What music was not completely traditional was almost atonally 20^th century. Still ethereal, but you hesitate about when to sit down, not knowing whether that was the final note of the piece. / Caught the 211 across Westminster and back to Waterloo, stopping in at the Sainsbury’s for ingredients for the biscotti baking spree, and a steak dinner. At home Susan wanted to do some admin before getting going in the kitchen, so read another chapter of Dostoevsky and wrote here.

Later addition: ...I believe we made biscotti later on...

Sat, Oct 30 - Susan's B'day: Vauxhall Ital deli; Tate Britain & Becky; Bocco di Lupo; Social Network

Susan’s Birthday & Halloween in London:  Finished ‘Trip to Timbuktu’, Vauxhall Italian Deli, Tate Britain with Becky, Bocco de Lupo dinner and Gelupo gelato, bus home through the ghouls thronging Charing Cross Rd

Fri, Oct 29 - Hep B shot, ...?....

10.45am 2nd Hep B shot

Greensmith's for peppers and fennel to roast

8.30pm Susan returns from Bruges, has eaten too much

Thur, Oct 28 - Mali Drive OFF, Blists Hill, Train to London, Evening in

Wren admits she's not going to drive to Mali
Wonderful Victorian Industrial Revolution Town-Blists Hill (where Wren is doing play)
Midland GBP10 train via Northampton to Euston
Reading Timbuktu
Lucy's mother arrives
Susan in Bruges
Watched episode of Wallander on iPlayer, skyped with V at 3am

Wed, Oct 27 - Garage, Drive to Shrewsbury, Stew at Wren's, Old Post Office party

Tues, Oct 26 - Hinckley w David, & Wren's Story (tbc!)

Awoke but stayed in bed reading In the Footsteps of Mungo Park (2005 trip retracing the discovery of the Niger by Europeans). David brought me a cuppa tea at 9.30am, and we had some cornflakes downstairs in the living room. Wondered how Wren and Salif were getting on but refrained from calling. I'd texted her last night saying 'hope all cozy' and hadn't yet heard anything back. David told me the story of him and Jude -- and how she'd dropped off the map as soon as Barry (the South African boyfriend returned from romantic exile) had 'forbidden' her from having contact with David. Wondered at this submissive streak in an otherwise very independent and strong-willed woman. D said how J had come on to him -- he wasn't against it, mind you, but it wasn't at his instigation. / Rainy blustery day, so didn't take the walk into town we'd mooted. Drove several towns over to a nice pub (an old smithy, possibly) with the best '2-for-1' lunch in the area: our two mains of mint lamb and steak respectively came to a whopping total of GBP 7. Try to find that in London. / Home and pulled out the France and Spain maps to contemplate the drive down to Morocco and do some back-of-the-envelope costing. D suggested taking the ferry from Portsmouth to Santander, and at about GBP 230 figured that would be a saving over the Dover-Calais ferry plus gas and tolls through France. Liked his broad-brush approach, and estimates of GBP 6 to the gallon of petrol -- maybe GBP 5 for diesel. Diesel is more expensive than Regular in the UK, but cheaper in Europe and Africa. It was apparent D would love to join for the trip. But since his mother's health could deteriorate at any minute, he's committed to staying close to home. / Drove into Hinckley where D dropped off his new Mazda 5 (the sporty one) to have new plates put on, sort out his gap insurance, and iron out something about a payment going through twice. Walked into town (the high street) and dropped by the real estate agent's (D's tenants have stopped paying the rent and are now complaining about a wasp hive) and the bank (Halifax). Walked up and down the pedestrianized main street and popped into some small local department store that had been recently renovated to a 1980's look to pick up crumpets and a bottle of wine. / Home again, and skyped with Vernon. / D made us a mushroom omelette while I half-watched Leonard Cohen, and we were about to start watching Wall-E when Wren called.

The Wren & Salif story:

Mon, Oct 25 - Cleaning Wren's, Salif Keita concert Birmingham, Overnight at David's

Cleaning Wren’s (bathroom scrub, vacuuming stairs & downstairs, more dish washing, shifting recycling outside); muesli & fruit for b’fast, grilled cheese & salad for lunch; comments on hot water (Greenham Common);  3pm skype w Vernon (friend’s memorial); 3.45pm left by rental car for Birmingham (Wren in little black dress, do I look like the future wife of the future president of Mali?); 5.30pm quick coffee in shopping center, then to Town Hall (bumped into band & Aida going out for dinner; no Salif); dropped Wren ‘backstage’ (no Salif) and ambled slowly down New Street to New Street Station where I met David & childhood friend Graham (now IBM global project manager with love of travel, wife & 3 kids) off the train from Coventry at 6.30pm; dinner at ‘pub’ attached to Premier Inn & talk of travel; 7.30pm Town Hall, Wren greeted us by box office & we picked up tix (there was an extra comp for David in the end); Karen & Ruth (short gray hair, had met at TimeShift last summer) & Sara (who’d offered me a place to stay) showed up shortly before start; Karen pulled Wren up to go dance at the side and then up front; then we all (the girls) moved up front to ‘dance’ (Wren the most ‘wildly’, there’s always one at these concerts, ain’t there?) in front of the speakers (there’s a reason nobody’s seated there);  1hr15min of gigging, then pause indicating ‘we’re almost over’ and played till 9.30pm with no dancing on stage; black guy dancing close with Wren in front row; Salif did routine of strutting about stage & saluting / blowing kisses; got crowd on their feet by saying ‘it’s my birthday’ and getting everyone to sing happy birthday and get dancing ‘for him’; Salif, calabash drummer Madou, percussionist Solo (chubby); gymnastic Kora player (with stubby dreds); guitarist  in white (with Eric Clapton solo); other guitarist who got on drums with percussionist every now and then; 2 girls singing & dancing; the guys have been with him for 30 years and 15 years (old and new), the girls are new new (they rotate); after gig went down hall at back, Wren went ahead to ask about letting us in; all fine and we single filed down the hall and past picnic table into ‘green room’ where Salif was sitting in a chair; rose and we all greeted him, then the girls had to get going for their 10.22pm train back to Shrewsbury; me and Dave and Graham stuck around as another posse arrived for photos and signatures (French & Bambara speaking, last name of Keita); then got clear w Aida (the tour manager) that Salif would in fact go home w Wren;  I explained to Salif that we’d go by his hotel to get his valise and then he’d go with Wren; walked to car with Wren and boys to collect my case; Wren back in car to pick up Salif; we walked down to station (Graham pulled my trolley) and stopped at The Sun for a pint (David not drinking); 11.20pm train to Coventry (I didn’t pay); cab to Graham’s for cuppa tea and met Cheryl (like Ch-erub) knitting cool metallic wool scarf; David drove us home about 12.30am. Text-skyped Vernon.

Sun, Oct 24 - Morn at Lucy's, Aft train to Shrewsbury & Wren's

George off to Tennis at 9.30am, Me in bed w TKAM, B’fast tea and toast w Lucy, Boxes w Lucy, Shower & Antje by to pick up bike 1.30pm, 3pm train to Shrewsbury arr 7.30pm, G&T and pasta w Wren (post Blists Hill), New Tricks episode (2x) with quick txt to Vernon in between

Sat, Oct 23 - B'fast at Lucy's, Tea at Adrian's 45A, Lunch w Ian W & Hayward 'Move', Dinner at Lucy's w Doug F & Karen & Antje

Shower,  In bed w L, G, V, Claude & Bill; B’fast of scrambled eggs and pumpernickel; Box or two w Lucy; Noon Tea w Adrian on The Cut, 1.30pm Ian at W’loo, Lunch at Pain Q, Hayward for ‘MoGe’, Bookstore briefly, Home turnaround (chapter of TKAM), Bakerloo to Lucy’s, Dinner (roast) w Doug Fishbone & Karen, Antje, Lucy & George, Overnight at Lucy’s

Fri, Oct 22 - Reading & Post Office; Met Marina; Dr Beckley (Elbow) & Nurse (Hep B); Thai w Kaz, Deidre & Frank, Lucy & Violet

Coffee & muesli w Susan (off to Birkenhead parents tonight by bus); TKAM until about noon (!), post office to mail IDP to Vernon & check on SF parcel & mail forwarding; home & recorded vacc hist; 3pm Nero’s and rd’g maps; 3.30pm met Marina (Mali) at W’loo Costa (not Nero on The Cut); 4pm Dr Beckley for elbow steroid shot (no results from cholesterol yet), 4.30pm Nurse who recorded vacc hist and gave 1^st of 3 Hep B shots; email; Bakerloo (v slow after Queens Park), Dinner at Thai on Harrow Rd w Kaz, Deidre & Frank, Lucy & Violet (fun convo, felt relaxed and accepted J ); waited for George to arrive in vain, was at gallery opening at BFI; overnight at Lucy’s

Kaz: innovative MA, Swedish-funded program in London, museums (eg Sir John Soane) and innovative approach to them; can live on 1300/mo in London; lives with 1 (or 2?) musicians – good coz they work hard and aren’t around much; still works at Iyengar ctr but says it’s very political-doesn’t like the people

Deidre: 2^nd yr of photography MA; has to do a ‘project’ this yr (what is it?)

Frank: started at Moody’s recently (Sept?) in their ‘consulting’ dept – consulting to banks on risk mgmt; still working on his PhD (at Birkbeck?); not sure Moody’s is where he want s to end up, but is a good ‘look-round’ job

Thur, Oct 21 - Frank Harris, Brit Museum & Design Ctr, Hakasan w Gus

Susan home coz feeling flu-ey still; 10am Frank Harris mtg w Tony George to discuss the flat (he knows nothing – Gabor in City Office does mgmt, he just does lease signing); got SF Sourdough at Konditor & Cooke, dropped by Soho Gym to see if Tim still Spinning there (he is; texted – he leaves for job in NYC end of Nov);  hung w Susan (but feeling antsy & determined to go to BM)- Susan had 4pm interview for Rome job and was going into office for that, then on to Italian class; on way out passed Pret opening w free lunch bag (had just eaten tho); 12.30-14.30 British Museum (Africa Galleries, Rosetta Stone); Store Str & Building Center (archi in London) but Wren’s ‘Future of the World in 100 Objects’ over so browsed bookstore for 1hr;  emailed at café down the street; 6pm to Foyle’s & Car Buying (Teach Yourself) guide; ambled up and down Dean-Frith-Greek Streets contemplating restos; 7.40pm met Gus at his office on Soho Sq; he’d booked Hakasan which is just up the street (passed down the alley on the way over from Store St); table only at 10.15pm so had 3 cocktails at the bar, finally some dim sum & squid, then at table just some duck rolls and shrimp hot pot; interesting investment story about Zingo (? Farmville etc), less interesting story about homeless guy in office, remembered Gus’ parents are both dead (dad a long time ago I believe, mother in 2007), kids are good (Grace 11?, twins 8 maybe, one open-hearted and one business like), Grace in private school, twins in state school which is good so they meet poor kids too; dire episode in dark office afterward (elevator kiss, hand to crotch, why not a hand job? Ugh..)

9.30am Awoke shortly after Susan had tried to wake me,  Susan preparing for Rome interview tomorrow,  I read intro to Teaching English Abroad, emailed 10.30-11am (slow connection), lunch of tomato-wensleydale soup and bread. 12.30 headed out to British Museum, caught 176 across Waterloo Bridge down the Strand around Trafalgar Square and up Charing Cross Road (very slow, construction, sunny day, sitting at front next to African gentleman with knees against wall)… tbc

Wed, Oct 20 - Dental Hygienist, Morocco Overland notes ... then??

Emailing & phone calls (?); 11am train to Putney for 11.30am hygienist appt; home at 12.30 to find Susan home (not feeling well); read ‘Morocco Overland’ and took relevant notes, checked route on AA trip planner, while Susan checked emails etc; DINNER?? EVENING??

Tues, Oct 19 - Young Vic tix & W'loo Hlth & Windmill; Stanford's; Dr Faust w Susan & Becky

10am Young Vic for standing ticket to Faust; then accompanied Susan to Dr Beckley for follow up on chest pain and then to St Thomas for cholesterol blood test; back in time to accompany me to lunch in sun at Windmill pub thai;  Stanfords – Mali books, Sahara Overland, maps…browsing & reading while it rained outside;  7pm Susan’s & nibbles w/ Susan & Becky;  7.45pm Faustus; 10pm chips (2 lots) w Susan in bar

Mon, Oct 18 - (Stanfords?)

Susan complaining of chest pains but went to work anyway, got a vmail in the afternoon that she’d gone to St Thomas’ (w secretary) to have them checked out

Sun, Oct 17 - St Paul's & St Bride's & Temple, Susan returns from weekend in Paris

Determined to go to St Paul’s. Thought mass started at 10am. Fortunately it started at 10.15am. Sat in the row reserved for Amen Court without realizing it. Then a Virgir (or was she a Warden?) addressed the man sitting closer to the aisle to tell him as much, and he said he was a friend of someone from Amen Court, and she apologized. ‘I don’t recognize everyone, I’m so sorry.’ His name was Nigel Chapel, and he’s a nurse and regular congregant at St Andrew’s over on High Holborn. He told me there’s a service Wednesday night, and people stay for a potluck dinner afterwards. He also mentioned St Ethelberger’s two blocks down from Liverpool Street Station as an inter-faith church, big on truth and reconciliation and such. He crossed himself at every opportunity, and bowed over slightly to the Deacons, and even knelt to pray. I wonder what he thought of my not crossing myself or taking communion. He sang to the tune and I secretly hoped he appreciated my sort-of sight-reading the music. Not that I can do that on my own, but it does help with singing along if the person next to you knows the tune. At the 10.15am the sermon was by the Reverend, a young woman with a short black bob, and she talked about how the god of the Old Testament was seen as wrathful, and the god of the New Testament was seen as forgiving – but how in fact god had many dimensions throughout.  I didn’t feel moved. At the 11.30am the sermon was by David Jenkins, the Archbishop of Sudbury (or some such), and he wove in the liberation of the Chilean miners. He said he’d been invited to speak 12 months ago. Talk about leaving your speech to the last minute.  He talked about how their faith was what kept them going. And how having faith gives life a framework, and meaning, that is otherwise lacking. No duh. Question is whether that so-called ‘meaning’ derived from imagining a god-given framework is in fact meaningful at all.

After the service I walked past the M&S to Ave Maria lane and around Amen Court, just to check it out. Nigel had told me where to find it. I had hoped he’d ask me for a coffee after the service, but he left right away. He seemed an interesting bloke. Works with victims (survivors) of domestic violence. Commented that it’s the best job he’s ever had – after running the neurology department at St Bart’s. ‘It’s the closest to a vocation I’ve come.’ He also said he hadn’t realized how much violence there was in his own life until he took this job. Seemed like someone with his head and heart in the right place(s). Though I didn’t like the way he smelled. Nothing dire, just vaguely off-putting, like I was afraid of getting close enough to smell his breath. He kept popping these sweets into his mouth. Maybe he was cognizant of his odor. Or maybe the sweets were causing it.

It was a beautiful day out. Sunny and just warm enough for a double layer. Had a Pret latte and tomato-and-cheese hot croissant sitting out on the monument bench, for old times’ sake. Checked Citibank’s opening hours, and then popped into Black’s to see about a mosquito net. Browsed the Lonely Planet Volunteer and Africa guides. Contemplated buying them to return them in a few days. Satisfied myself with the information I gleaned browsing on the spot. I ought to get in touch with Sean G in Tangiers. And the guide says that Mauritania is more interesting than Overlanders would imply by shooting through without stopping. Checked out backpacks as well, because I’m thinking of doing some traveling with Anna, and for that would need something lightweight I can carry on my back. Thought the 30+5 liter Black’s pack was the best in terms of size, design, and material. But didn’t buy anything. Spoke with Wren later and she said, ‘We have a packs of different sizes here; take a look and see what you’d like to borrow.’ She also reminded me to check in with Anna about a mosquito net. They cost about GBP 30 for a single, and Anna knows a tour guide who sells second-hand ones left by his customers, cheap.

Ambled down Fleet Street, and dropped in at St Bride’s because Ensign had been. Its steeple inspired wedding cake design. The bombing in WWII revealed the crypt, where there is now an interesting display about the early designs of the church (the first iterations date back to the 11^th century) and the history of printing on Fleet Street (dating back to 1570 or thereabouts, when the first press was installed).

Cut down the alley by the Cheshire Cheese (the pub by the west entrance to Goldman Sachs) to the house of Dr Johnson, the creator of the first English language dictionary. Gough Square leads into New Street Square, where a box shaped building covered in plants occupies the center of the square. It’s the Land Securities headquarters, from which the properties around the square are managed. I was taking a photo of the address, and struggling to capture the hazy print against the glass, when two security guards came out and asked if they could help me. ‘No.’ Afterwards we struck up a conversation, and the smarter of the two said they’d been instructed that LS didn’t want people taking any photos of the buildings on the square. Counter-terrorist measures, perhaps?

Bottomed out onto Fleet Street again by the Courts of Justice. Followed some tourists down a side alley into Temple, where a gate was propped open. Passed the Middle Temple, and the Gardens, like when I’d visited on Open Houses weekend; but the far gate on the Embankment was locked this time and I had to double back to Fleet Street. I almost caught a bus back to Waterloo, but instead dodged into the courtyard of Somerset House. The fountain was still on. A pair of older men were walking through the spurts. Not worth getting my boots wet for that. The sun was golden. Walked through the Seamen’s Building out to the terrace overlooking the Thames, then West to Waterloo Bridge. Lovely light over the river. A rescue dingy speeding towards Blackfriar’s Bridge, a joy ride no doubt. The flashing lights on the National Theatre advertising Hamlet at the Olivier. Decided to see if there were tickets left for this week. There aren’t. But I can queue tomorrow morning for GBP 10 tickets, or ring up for GBP 5 standing tickets, which are available since the show is sold out.

Caught sight of a ‘How to do Accents’ book through the window of the lobby bookstore, and was intrigued. But it was in plastic. Leafed through some sample monologue books for auditions, but was not inspired. Then caught sight of ‘Bird by Bird’ on the ‘Writing/Directing’ shelf, and sat and read the first four chapters. Paul gave me a copy years ago, but I never cracked the cover, I don’t think. Best to read it ‘on the sly’ now at the bookstore. Again, contemplated buying it and returning it – but I’m more likely to read the damn thing if I just return and read it on the spot. There’s a book out about Fela, the play about the Nigerian musician that’s about to open. And a ‘Hidden Walks’ about London book caught my eye.

Ducked in to the BFI, and through the sliding door to the Mediatheque. No TV’s were free, and I was hungry and tired anyway – but I do want to return and watch a movie there. The Film Theatre and the bar were buzzing.

Stopped in at the Sainsbury’s for some Kumula wine on sale, and once home devoured a large bowl of fetucinni with left-over haddock and tomatoes. And a container of Covent Garden Squash and Sweet Potato Soup. Watched ‘The Head of Ife’, which Susan has on DVD – the story of a bronze sculpture from Nigeria that changed the way Westerners looked at African art (and craftsmanship).  The first Westerner saw it (or one like it) in 1910 or so,  but it was  then ‘re-discovered’ (and bought and traded to the British museum) only in 1958 or so. The bronzes from Benin are better known – I’ve seen some, though didn’t realize they were from Benin. I ought to visit the African Galleries at the British Museum before I leave.

Finished ‘The Beginning of Spring’ by Penelope Fitzgerald. Wonderfully keenly and drily observed story set in 1913 of Frank Reid, an Englishman born and bred in Moscow but educated and married in England around , who takes his wife back to Russia to run his father’s printing press. The bookends of the story are her leaving him unexpectedly and inexplicably, and her returning just as unexpectedly and inexplicably 187 pages later.  It’s revealed at the end that she had (or wanted to have) an affair with Selwyn Crane, the Tolstoy disciple and Reid Press accountant. Meanwhile Selwyn has leaned on Frank to take on an impoverished Russian girl, Lisa Ivanova, as governess for the three motherless children – she is another Tolstoy disciple and has a bewitching effect on men (including or especially Frank Reid). Frank’s observations of his Russian employees, the taxi (or sled) drivers and station masters, and his neighbor Kuriatin are hilarious. The bits about Lisa are vague and vaguely magical – and, I found, out of keeping with Frank’s usually keen eye for detail. Maybe that’s supposed to be an indication of how Lisa appeals to the right brain of a typically left brained man; but I found it un-compelling.

Susan returned on the Eurostar from Paris about 8pm. I described my run-in with Sharon, and she made sympathetic comments about selfish and self-centered people in general, and Israelis in particular. She’d  vegged in Paris; hadn’t felt like doing much. Brought back a bagful of red peppers with her. ‘They were going cheap.’ Sat and drank a bottle of red wine and had some carrot soup and nut bread with some Montegomery cheddar (‘the way cheddar is suppose to taste; not like that rubbery stuff they sell in a lot of stores’).  Up till 1am-ish chatting, blogging, browsing what restaurants have 2-for-1 deals on.

Didn’t talk to Sharon today. Did talk with Lucy. She’s just back from Dundee where George had a solo show. Got the red carpet treatment. Nice hotel and all meals paid for.  Wednesday a curator friend from Yale is having an opening at the National Portrait Gallery, and is invited over for dinner Thursday. Friday she hoped I’d come out with Kaz and Deidre and Frank. Tomorrow (Monday), the only thing she has on is ‘Ba Ba Babies’ (or some such) – mums singing nursery songs at a local community center, with their babies rapt on their laps.

Ensign was due to leave for the US today. He moved his flight up because he’d contracted a touch of bronchitis, and knew it’d take him some days to recover, and figured he could better do that back home in Chicago than with Ama (or at a hostel) in London. Would have been nice to see him, but it isn’t meant to be.

Sat, Oct 16 - Brunch with Sharon & Patrick, The Wire (Season 4, Episodes 1-4)

Slammed door on departure without saying goodbye to Sharon

Fri, Oct 15 - Dentist & Blood at St Thomas, Dinner at Sharon & Patrick's with Milou

Thur, Oct 14 - Shrewsbury to London by train

Read Catcher in the Rye

Wed, Oct 13 - Shrewsbury with Anna, Critical Friends dinner with Richard & Carl

Tues, Oct 12 - Spring Cleaning of Wren's with Karen, Dinner with Sabine & Anna

Dear Mom,

I hope everything has gone / is going smoothly, and that you're

reading this from your newly installed old computer in your

bedroom/study in your freshly refurbished Mund apartment. Say Hi to

Paul if he's just gotten the WiFi working! ;)  And to Huub, who may be

monitoring progress over your shoulder  ;)  Seriously -- I'm wishing

you a second (third? fourth?) wind in this process, and hope the week

at Jim's afforded you the opportunity to catch up on sleep (as well as

take care of all sorts of admin, rent a car, etc), and that you

managed to do the household shopping you wanted to do prior to move

in.

How are you feeling? Or is that a luxury for later?

As for me -- I just spent the day cleaning (up) Wren's house together

with her friend Karen, who will be house-sitting the three months Wren

is in Mali. It's a smallish house with a largish amount of clutter.

And hasn't been cleaned in months, maybe years.

This evening Anna and Sabrina came over for dinner -- part of the

reason I came up with Wren from London on Monday, even though I've got

to be back in London for a doctor's appointment on Thursday. Anna is

flying to Mali on Dec 17th and will be driving back to the UK with

Wren in February. Wren had mooted that Sabrina would be driving to

Mali with us, but it turns out she's not up to it for various reasons

(including MS). So it looks like it'll be just Wren and me driving

south. I thought we'd be spreading out maps and talking packing

tips...but we had dinner and watched a slideshow of Wren's photos from

her last trip and exhibit at the Segou Festival...which did get my

head back 'in the game' a bit, so to speak.  I feel a certain energy

around being in Mali (quite undefined, I admit -- both the energy and

the picture of Mali it inhabits) -- even though I didn't feel a

sympathetic vibration to the 'Oooh, how beautiful' crooning over the

sluggish Niger river, or bone dry Dogon villages, or the dusty single

road that is 'downtown' Segou.

Brief recap of the days since my last email:

Fri - got into London, had dinner with Susan, stayed overnight at

Susan's over the weekend

Sat - 'Wealth Propulsion Intensive' seminar with Wren and her friend

Carol (and 500 or so other enthusiastic people); home late and caught

up with Susan

Sun - nosed around Southwark with Susan and noted the changes

(improvements); went to the Gaugin exhibit at the Tate Modern

Mon - drove up to Shrewsbury with Wren; visited David (another friend

from the Mali trip) on the way

Tues - cleaned house with Karen; dinner at Wren's with Anna and Sabrina

And preview of the coming days:

Wed - Critical Friends dinner at Wren's

Thurs - back to London, doctor's appt; staying at Susan's

Fri - dentist appt

Weekend - hope to see Lucy and Sharon (Susan is going to Paris for the weekend)

Btw - Ensign emailed, and I emailed back with the youth hostel

suggestion and my mobile number. I hope we'll connect while he's in

town.

Ok, and the important stuff I have to do:

- apply for KIVA fellows program

- get an international driver's license

- lookup ESL teacher trainings... Susan has a friend in the ESL world

who I can talk to to get the lay of the land re: certifications

- as for a visa for Mali, they can be had at the border now (so no

need to send my passport off to Brussels, thankfully)

- my yellow fever shot is still valid, and I think I'm covered on the

rest (Tetanus, Hep C, etc) but need to double check with a doctor; and

then there are the malaria pills to be got

Right ho, thanks for 'listening' to all that :) It's nice  talking to

you (in my mind) -- but hope to catch you 'live' some day SOON.

Thinking of you, wishing you veel sterkte, and trusting this phase of

your transition is being cushioned by the love, dedication and

resourcefulness of Jim and Paul (and associates ;)

Heel veel liefs,

Marlies

Mon, Oct 11 - Drove London to Shrewsbury with Wren (warm sunny day)

7am Susan’s alarm went off, out the door by 8.15 or so; invited me to human rights conference if I didn’t leave for Shrewsbury. Great Gatsby. Bath-ed. Dentist finally picked up at 9am – my appt was for Tues, but I could move it to Fri 11am, so I did. Doctor is Thurs at 4pm. Packed bags, had some breakfast, emailed V (‘alone’ again in London) & Llyn (went to Zurich) & Ensign (St Paul’s youth hostel), finished Great Gatsby. A tragedy. Man living in his dreams of the past, misunderstood, killed for the one crime he did not commit. Kinda contrived, depressing in the life it observed and in its take on that life – but loved F Scott Fitzgerald’s writing. The outsider looking in, just inside ‘enough’ to get the look in to take the snapshot; long sentences that restores language to something to be paid attention to; quirky images and turns of phrase. Like Conference of the Birds in that way (the author an outsider-insider). / 11.30am Bakerloo to Queens Park & 34 Lynton Rd, saw Kris again who wished us well on our journey to Mali. Stopped for petrol and a sandwich (tuna-sweetcorn). 14.30 David Hughes’ (Kaptin Hornblower) at Westminster Drive 47 in Hinckley. Chatted in the sunny conservatory for ½ hr over a cuppa Darjeeling. His mother is poorly and might die any day. Has had leukemia for 10 years, but has been fine. Then discovered a tumor in her thumb and amputated it – but have now found a lump in her lymph nodes. She’s in a shelter / hospice, where she’s receiving care. David says he can’t – nor would he want to – give her the kind of care she requires. His brother is ‘worse than useless’; he hasn’t even been to see her since he learned of her condition after complaining to David she wasn’t answering her phone at home. David was planning on spending some weeks in Marval (France), but wants to stay near his mother for the time being. He’s excited to go to Salif’s gig in Birmingham later in Oct, once Wren reminded him, and would also like to join for the party (and jam-session) with musicians and dancers Wren is planning to host in Shrewsbury. David keeps a neat and well-loved house, the walls adorned with African masks, ‘jokes’ (like the stuffed cats) tucked here and there. He lives off his pension (he was made redundant and then took retirement at 54) and giving sax lessons. He said he’d been apprehensive about living on such a small income, but he’s finding he’s perfectly fine. 15.30 Left to meet Ray in Bliss Hill (sp?) near Telford for a discussion of the space to be used for the performance on Oct 30^th. Took the M69 the wrong way (N rather than S) and ended up delayed looping north on the M1 and west on the A5 – so missed meeting with Ray. 17.30 stopped at a pub for a pee and cuppa tea and some prefab crumble with custard. Judy from Tom’s Shoes was scheduled to call Wren at 1800 but never did. 19.00 or so: got some groceries at Sainsbury’s in Shrewsbury (Moede Brice retail ctr, sp?) on the way home (it’s a 7min walk – or bike – from Wren’s). 19.30 37 Oak Street. Imogen at home doing her homework on the couch watching TV. Wren ordered some gin & tonics and we cheers-ed our reunion. Dinner of tortellini with arabiata sauce, and salad, watching Tricky Things (or some such – the show about retired detectives solving unsolved mysteries). Suggested we watch a 2^nd episode and then slept through it. Imi did the dishes on Wren’s command (since she hadn’t done them last time asked).

Wren’s place is a tip. Stuffed to the gills with crap. No clear surface. What’s garbage? Dusty, hasn’t been cleaned in ages. Similar feel to Susan’s, in a way – just Susan has nice stuff and she does keep it clean.  An English woman-of-a-certain-age thing? Reminds me of the Vincent in Brixton observation by a Dutchman of British lack of cleanliness. I can live with it: I’m revulsed, I can’t ‘understand’ / ‘conceive of’ living this way --  but somehow don’t feel it affecting my person… or: my person is outside of it. How Marybeth chooses to live, how Vernon chooses to live, creates a much greater sense of well-being. I do wonder whether Wren notices the difference. Or if all of life is ‘camping’ – and when she’s in nicer homes all she perceives is the ‘good luck’ of the nice atmosphere, not the effort that goes into it. Or maybe she appreciates it, just knows she doesn’t want to make the sacrifices to achieve it. I don’t either, really – but I don’t like the results when the effort is NOT made. And I’m realizing that the effort, made habit, is not as great a burden as I make it when investing more in thought than action.

Wren was in a great mood this morning. Because she’d seen her art in a show in London? Because the sun was shining? No, just because J Nice to be around that energy again.

On the way to Queens Park on the tube: The Purpose of life is to experience Magic, Bliss. And: My view is my gift; seeing the world as I do is my contribution; that’s it, that’s all I have, and that’s great / enough / what it’s all about (each blood cell making it’s addition to / creating together the throbbing rush in the arteries of life)

Sun, Oct 10 - Gaugin with Susan

Sunday, Oct 10^th – 101010 – Gaugin w Susan

Sat, Oct 9 - Wealth Propulsion Intensive

6.45am without alarm. Answered Mom’s email till 7.30am. Checked on Congestion Zone for Wren (doesn’t apply  on weekends)  and googled tfl.gov.uk for directions to the Ibis at Brompton Road where the WPI seminar is being held. Delays on the District Line due to insufficient trains. Something to do with the wheels being defective. Didn’t have time to see if V was back home yet from his Sovoso gig at the Unitarian Church in Oakland (but I don’t expect he was). Left home belatedly at 8.26am. Got a banana, apple, passion yoghurt drink, orange juice at the Costcutter.  Jubilee to Westminster, Circle to South Kensington, Piccadilly to Earls Court, then a short walk to the Ibis hotel. Got there 10mins late, but they were just starting by recapping yesterday’s session, so I got a coffee outside in the lobby. Wren hadn’t arrived yet. / Bigger than Landmark. At least 500 people.  And this weekend is just an intro session (like Landmark’s Wednesday evenings) – that everybody is attending for free except those who ‘upgraded’ to VIP seating at the front for GBP 90. Started with a guy warming us up with a ‘Fact or Crap’ game show give-away to music from Pulp Fiction. Then Johnnie Cass came on, an Australian in his 40’s probably (feels like he’s ‘my age’ for some reason); fit, energetic , whose job it is to help us feel motivated and inspired for 12hrs – to change our lives, and to sign up for the GBP 3,500 week-long seminars (that’s a special price for us; full price is GBP 4,999). ‘Is that Yes, or Yes?’ is a favorite rhetorical device, and he has us repeat the last word of his sentences as a way to keep us engaged. Today we’re doing a series of exercises drawn from the different seminars offered by the Academy of Wealth and Achievement, to give us a taste of (and for) Christopher Howard’s recipes for living our dreams, transforming our lives, and breaking through to success. / Spotted Wren in her red dress and red cowboy boots several rows behind me and to the left. She came over and gave me a kiss after the staring exercise. I went to sit with her and Carol (decked out in turquoise) after the first break. Wren looked tired to me, but she didn’t say anything about it. She told me about off-loading a bunch of stuff at Basia’s, to be donated to the Reservation – and still having to pay for a bag extra on the flight. She said she’d liked retracing our steps, driving west through Flagstaff to LA, revisiting our trip as she went.  I have yet to ask what she got up to in LA. / Did the afternoon exercises with Wren and group – standing and ‘connecting’ with the group, without speaking, just looking, for 3 minutes; and making a 4min pitch to the group of investors. Everybody said they hadn’t prepared, yet everybody came across as passionate and surprisingly articulate about their projects. I pitched getting sponsored to be a Fellow with KIVA. / We cut out for lunch a little early (3.30pm) and had pizzas outside at Pizz@Home. It struck me that everything Carol said was a complaint. She would talk about the Universe giving her just what she needed, but had to mention that she’d been in a bad mood that day, or ill, or tired. And the mutual friends Wren mentioned, Carol complained they’d not returned her messages. Wren herself has not been to Middlesbury to visit Carol, even though Carol has been to Shrewsbury several times to visit Wren. Yet – she’s doing an MFA and has her work in the degree show catalogue, she has a house in Tuscany she’s planning to move to, she’s training to be a life coach… / The late afternoon session focused on getting clarity around our values and our vision, and realizing we needed to generate congruity between our vision and our mission (the path to the vision) if we are ever to achieve the vision.  I stuttered through answering the questions about what I want to have-do-be, as well as the description of ‘my ideal day’ five years hence. / Held out till about 7pm, when Johnnie launched into some intensive marketing of the  Wealth Acceleration I and II seminars. Got a drink (I got a Carpirinha, they got pints of London Pride) together  at the bar opposite the West Brompton tube. Carol said some useful / helpful / ‘raak’ things to me about the valuable-ness of writing every day ‘just because’… I can see what comes of it later; there was someone who just kept a journal of the weather every day, for example, and it proved useful to historians in deducing when a particular battle must have taken place. ‘T is maar’ what your obsession is. I’m not going to make a clay pot every day… but I will (can) write for 30mins every day, and can (will) post a picture I’ve taken, every day. / I related that my ‘dream day’ involved a prop plane and taking aerial photos over Africa and being met by my lover on the runway as the sun set, handing off the camera with prize-winning photos to an assistant who’d get them off to the relevant prestigious magazines. Maybe squeeze the Mediterranean in there somehow. As well as the desert. And family and friends visiting for long-ish periods, staying in my comfortable multi-wing mansion. / Home around 9.30pm, and chatted with Susan -- about Landmark style seminars in general and this one in particular (she detests the concept; Sharine and her brother did Landmark about 10 years ago); about my difficulty responding to the question, ‘What’s brought you joy…in your career, in your personal life, etc’ (I’m either happy in which case I enjoy everything, or depressed and enjoying nothing; it’s not the thing that brings the enjoyment but the chemical state of mind); about the importance of good colleagues and good feedback to our satisfaction at work, and our desire (in part as a result of having bosses we don’t respect) to set up a business where we’ll be the ultimate decision makers. She massaged my back and I massaged hers. Agreed on the importance of being around people who appreciate things – from good food to fine art to virtues like kindness and compassion. / 11pm and I said I had to write, and Susan said she’d bathe and perhaps finish off her taxes (she decided not to, after the bath).

Fri, Oct 8 - AMS to LON, Dinner w Susan at Terraanostra (27 Old Bailey)

Thur, Oct 7 - De Zwaan, V Skype, Lunch Willem, Rose Trudie, Dinner Lucas

Thursday, October 7^th – 

Trudie.

-          I’ve just put the heat on.  If one sits for a while one gets chilly

-          I got pickpocketed yesterday. Euro 500. I came home with my groceries and only unpacked them later – and the envelope with the money was gone! I separate my and Madeleine’s shopping into two bags, and I always check the grocery receipt because they make mistakes; that must have been when it happened

-          Would you like some tea, or coffee, or fris, or some rose?  I went upstairs with her to the kitchen, and got a bottle out of the box.

-          I don’t do much these days. I can’t concentrate to read or even watch TV.  Friends come by to visit, but I have to warn them I might not be able to make it at the last minute. The only thing I still do a little of is vermogensbeheer.

-          No, I don’t bike anymore. What if I fell and broke something? I’ve got to think of Madeleine.

-          I hope to be carried out of this house [ie, dead]. I can’t stand the thought of care homes.

-          The houses in this street are selling like hot cakes (als warme broodjes)

The story of Huub & Trudie. Greet (Ghrate) was a friend of Mieke’s and Trudie’s. When Huub came back from Tunisie, Greet asked Trudie if he could come along to dinner, and Trudie said ‘sure.’ He was staying at his mother’s and this was just a few weeks before he was to leave for Lebanon. Trudie was going to the family flat in Monte Carlo, and asked if Huub wanted to come, but he was already bound to take a trip with his mother to (the veluwe? Vosges?). Turned out he couldn’t take it, and came knocking at Trudie’s door three days later, but she was already gone. They had dinner one more time before he left for Lebanon. Greet took him to the airport. Greet was in love with Huub (even though she was married), and didn’t want Trudie to come along to the airport.

She got a wedding announcement, and a birth announcement for Huubke and Marliesje. None for Paultje. Trudie asked why. Huub said they were embarrassed that he’d been born so soon after Huubke, so they’d decided not to send out announcements.

Then in 1972 she bumped into Huub at the train station in Geneva – she with her mother, he with an au pair and a child or two in tow. Her mother had a place in Mies, which went to her sister after her mother’s death. There was some disagreement over the estate, and Trudie lost contact with that sister. Her other sister moved to Canada, and her daughter, Janine Prinse, now lives in Trudie’s neighborhood. Janine is 47 and a documentary film maker, and travels all over the world.

Huub and Marybeth stayed with Trudie on at least two occasions (and at least one, with children).

Madeleine called while I was visiting. We had a chat. I asked her how she was, today, and she said ‘slecht.’ She has cancer of the lungs, and lymph nodes, and brain. 13 tumors in her brain have disappeared, and the growth of the tumors in her lungs and lymph nodes has been halted. However, her kidneys aren’t working properly anymore as a result of all the chemo.

She lives alone in an upstairs flat, and refuses to move to a care home. She often doesn’t get out of bed, which means her muscles are atrophying. A care worker comes twice a day. Trudie brings her shopping.

Her voice sounds old. I try to imagine the beautiful 14 year old I visited with when I was 7, as a ravaged (and quite possibly bald, from all the chemo) ‘old’ woman of 48. That full head of shoulder-length chestnut hair, full cheeks and lips; maybe a nose like Trudie’s, I can’t quite remember.

‘Why did she say ‘slecht’ to you?’ asked Trudie, a rhetorical question. ‘To me she always says she’s fine. She never tells me anything. She doesn’t want to talk about the cancer with me.  Dat kan ik best begrijpen.  We never did have a close relationship. That happens between mothers and daughters. You had a nice conversation with her.

Wed, Oct 6 - Deposited munten at de slager, Dinner with Babette

Picked Babette up at De Zwaan, saw Michiel and met his Malian contact.  Went for tapas at a Spanish place B went with Alec, and later with Aard after their Spanish lessons. The woman behind the counter has a Spanish flamenco dancer look about here (long dark hair, high cheek bones, flashing eyes) but is from Cyprus, and before that hails from Syria. Her husband is Spanish. They tried working together in the restaurant, but that didn’t work at all. He is home now with their 15 month old. The restaurant is long and narrow, with the tapas bar and bar stools taking up most of the width leaving a narrow aisle to walk to the back. There a group at the single table was singing with gusto when we walked in. But they were wrapping up so we sat down that end of the bar, away from the door and the mother with the two ill-tempered kids. The tapas selection is displayed under glass. We had egg salad, garbanzo beans with spinach (my favorite), meatballs, seafood salad, and garlic shrimp sizzling from the kitchen.  And a bottle of white wine. Topped off with a sambuca for me and something else with a hint of arancia for Babette. And another on the house.  And a third because we were still chatting so animatedly before Roberto was sent home to his wife by his father in law in the kitchen.

Babette. Still gorgeous, just a little heavier in the hips as the years go by. She’s 38 now, and says it started when she was 35. Is eating the same as always, just stopped burning it off in the same way. That  and a diminished sex (and party) drive have been the hallmarks of her latter 30’s. Aard is just as horny as ever, wants to have sex morning noon and night seven days a week, has sex on the brain as he bikes around town. At first they got into spats when he wanted to and she didn’t, but she stopped beating herself up after Alec told her, ‘You can never have enough sex with your man’ and it sounds like they’ve reached harmony around it. 

She and Aard each have a horse.  Bought them a year or two ago for about Euro 3500 each.  A couple attempting to start a horse business keep them in the field behind their house, and B&A stay in an old camper van in the back yard when they go up for the weekend, which is just about every weekend.  It costs Euro 200 a month to keep each horse, and another 200 for the camper. They are learning to ride in a horse-friendly way developed by a guy called Parelli. B just got her ‘level 1’ certificate. Her goal (her goal!) is to ride to San Diago de  Campestella (from Holland) in 2012, after their traditional 12-12-12 party.

 I’m just going to miss their 10-10-10 party on the boat this weekend. Last year on 9-9-9 they had a pancake party, and the year before they barbequed a couple of goats on 19^th century grills.

Riding is not without its dangers. Babette has a not insignificant scar on her chin from a fall she took five years ago (have I never noticed it before? Or do I just forget each time between seeing her?). And more recently Aard lost a finger when the horse went wild and he thought it prudent to jump off, forgetting he had the reins wrapped in his hand. He recovered the digit and had it was sewn back on at the hospital.

Then there was the major mishap at De Zwaan in December 2008. The cases with all the porcelain and glassware collapsed the morning of what was to be the most profitable auction ever for De Zwaan, and several 100s of 1000s of value were destroyed.  She called the insurance immediately but they refused even to send someone to assess the damage, saying she wasn’t insured even though this company has insured everything for the van de Brinks for the last fifty years. Eventually they paid out a meager sum. She still doesn’t know exactly what the financial balance of that year is.

Things were very bad in 2002, the year the Euro was introduced in Holland. Her father died in 2004. Things picked up in 2005-2007. Then this disaster in 2008. And now it’s back to scraping by. She’s not putting anything away for retirement, but she has a houseboat and a horse.

There’s still the baby question. We both shrug our shoulders and comment our biological clocks never started ticking. But she’s conscious that at 38 she’s running out of time. Aard would like to have a kid, and for a while he brought it up. ‘C’mon, it’s the biological thing to do, we’re meant to reproduce, let’s get on with it; don’t think about it, it’ll be fine.’  He hasn’t brought it up for a while, but it’s in on her mind. She thinks the only way she could do it would be to sell De Zwaan and take to the road gypsy-style (with baby, then). Part (most?) of the baby-apprehension stems from visions of a life shuttling from the kraam to pre-school and on, and questions about where the money would come from to maintain her life-style and provide for the kid. Sure, poor people do it (eg Fidel and Daan who are about to have their 3rd) – but who knows what sacrifices they’re making and whether B would/could make those too.

Tbc

Tues, Oct 5 - Huub & Marybeth leave NL! Dinner with Pieter & Ciske & Pleun & Pipa

Woke up 1am-ish and was inspired to put pen to Huub’s card, in the bathroom so as not to wake up Mom. But when I emerged she sat up with a start and asked if I was ok: had I been in the bathroom a long time… or had she dozed off? / Both of us woke up 6.10am-ish and dozed to 6.15 and then to 6.20. Showered and packed up the room. At 7.15am Mom went next door to help Huub dress and at 7.45am I finished up his packing. Had breakfast in Huub’s room – a cup of tea and OJ, the left-over croissant, the last of the sliced bread and plakjes beemster. Huub at the desk, Mom in the chair in the corner, me on the bed.  I ferried our 3-bags-each to the front door, while Mom finished off her packing and Huub watched some teletext; at 8.50am Huub went to the restaurant for a cup of coffee and I snuck the time to write Mom’s card. Aad & Joke drove by at 9am to say goodbye – she’d just been for a blood test, and Aad warned me from the driver’s seat not to get too close, saying he had the grippe. Our taxi arrived 5mins early at 9.10am and we were all packed up and ready to go by 9.15am. Our driver from Suriname of Behari afkomst warned us the drive would take 45mins instead of the more usual 30min, because of rush hour traffic – and we were indeed stuck ‘in de file’ for about 10mins just before La Place. Huub enjoyed his elevated perch in the front seat and was quiet most of the ride, but did entertain us with some historical anecdotes about the Haarlemmer Meer Polder as well as the Landsmeer Polder (one of the oldest, dating from something like 1400). Mom admired the clean lines and greenness of the landscape, and gawked at the files (traffic jams) in directions opposite and perpendicular  to ours. We chatted most of the way. She’s a little down on staying in the basement at Jim’s (it’s a little musty) but of course very grateful for his hospitality.  I asked if she thought she’d go with Jim’s family to the River Road Congregation (Souad from APC in The Hague had asked if Asbury had a church), and she said she’d probably find something closer to her own community <at Asbury>. She reminded me Ensign will be in London in October. ‘I hope he’s alright,’ she said, about his spontaneously deciding to join Amma on her trip to London to visit her daughter after the birth of her first grandchild. She reiterated that he’s on meds and insinuated through her concern that he may be in some kind of manic phase. ‘I mean, that’s…wonderful <that he’s taking all these trips>.’  “Wonderful” was not the word her tone of voice would have inserted into that sentence. It was weird: her criticism of /concern for Ensign, which was evident because voiced but un-pinpointable (or -reproachable) because unspoken.  ‘It’s too bad in this land of water I never found people to go sailing with; it would have been so nice to go sailing.’ Really?! Isn’t Toon Visser a big yachtsman, and didn’t I just hear this week how Aad and Joke got together through their mutual love of sailing? I notice I get annoyed at what I consider ‘insincere regret’ or ‘insincere yearning’ – expressing regret for the absence of something one minute before midnight when the hands of the clock have made a full rotation without your having mentioned wanting that something even once. I didn’t make any comment out loud. / We get dropped at Schiphol T-3 (not the KLM terminal) for the BA flight, and our driver loads the bags onto two trolleys and Huub tips him Euro 10 on top of the Euro 50 fare. We make our way to counter 21, I check them in at the automatic kiosk, and unload their 6 bags at the bag drop. They are relieved I am dealing with the machines and the robotic people and the heavy bags. We take photos by the counter. We’re all relaxed. We go for coffee and a pain au raisin at the 9-table Java Kiosk, and I give them their cards. They are touched. Mom asks when I had time to buy and write the cards. She scoffs where in my card I said she’d scoff, but she seems touched. Huub is moved, and says once again that he wouldn’t be here <sitting in this chair at the airport, in one piece, and crying> if it weren’t for me helping him. And I did help him. And I helped Mom by helping Huub, because otherwise she would have had to help Huub, and she would never have gotten both her and his stuff (leave stand the household stuff) done. It’s good I came. / We went over to the ‘Passenger Assistance’ desk and the young girl told us we were supposed to have arrived a full hour ahead of time and we were 15mins late; she would ‘do her best’ to get someone to help us. Huub and Mom talked over each other to tell her she’d have to get it done, rather than do her best, because they had a plane to catch to America. Funny to see someone so young already acting so crotchety, and somebody in customer service increasing her customers’ stress (totally unnecessarily) rather than reassuring them. Took a seat to wait for the buggy, and MB&H asked the man next to them where he was traveling to. San Diago. In the US. Ah-not San Diago de Chile then. Nor San Diago de Compostella. The girl approached to tell us her buggy colleagues had arrived, and led us over to a gate to passport control that I could not pass through – and I said a hurried goodbye to Mom and then Huub. Huub said ‘I love you’ – to my surprise in English. They had to re-open the gate for him and I last saw him hurrying to catch up with the rest, disappearing around a corner out of my view. / Took myself and my bags downstairs to the train departures hall, bought a ticket to Lelylaan (paying an extra Euro 1 on a Euro 2.50 ticket for using a credit card), and caught the 11.32am train. Struggled down the narrow aisle of first class to the second class half of the train. No place to put luggage, so hoped nobody would struggle like me down the aisle, before my stop. At Lelylaan descended the stairs, exited the station, crossed the raod, and Tram 1 came within 5 mins. Presented my Strippenkaart and was told this was no longer accepted in Amsterdam. I asked if I could be reimbursed for it anywhere; the conductor didn’t know. I had an OV card on me from my March visit to Rotterdam, and asked how much a 2-zone fare was using the card; the conductor didn’t know.  I noted that the machine where I tapped in did not give me a read out of my balance; how could I find that out? She thought upon tapping-out the machine would give me a balance, but wasn’t sure. (It does in fact do so). / Got off at Rheinvis Fijt Straat (what a great name, eh?), and Reyer Anslo Straat is right there. / Tota opened the door in a green knit dress, the skirt Pierot-like. She’d knit it herself. She didn’t feel like doing anything much today, and stayed home knitting. She picked up knitting (again) about three years ago, and can’t make anything more for herself (she has enough knit-wear now). She asked again about my many bags, and I explained again that only two were going on to London with me. She said I was crazy if I was planning to carry them all up to Alec’s – did I know how steep the stairs are to his apartment, and that there are two flights before the front door? I explained I needed to repack the bags in any event, and she said I was welcome to do that in her living room. So I unpacked and repacked, and she / we chatted, and the TV was on in the background airing the Commonwealth Games so she wouldn’t miss the gymnastics and the participation of the 17-year-old daughter of an Englishman who used to rent upstairs from them. <check>.  Used Tota’s laptop to check 9292nl and the route to the Bijlmer Arena , and also checked email – asked Susan if I could stay at her’s this weekend, responded to Sharon’s mail of a week ago, wrote Wren finally and hoped we could meet up in London, apologized to Byron for radio silence. / Paul helped me carry my re-packed bags through the Vondelpark to 16 Saxenburger Straat, but didn’t offer to heave them up the stairs. Took them up one at a time, and unpacked into Felix’s old room. The flat still has a fair bit of furniture left, just no character.  And the paintings that happen to be up on the walls detract rather than enhance.  Where did the stained glass go, btw? / A piece of paper lying on the dining room table was a Biblical text, underlined – ‘Jezus in de woestijn.’ Tota had mentioned that Joya had become a devout Christian; “Better that than sex or drugs, eh?” / Went back to Tota’s and wrapped up presents for Pleun & Pieter & Ciske, and fit everything into a wheelie bag and a plastic bag. / Caught tram 1 and metro 50 (dir Gein) to Station Bijlmer (took about 20mins), exited on the side of the buses, located and aimed for the Adidas building, then skirted ‘round to the back and found Alex in Afrika (each segment of what Pieter later told me was the old Fokker HQ building is named after a continent). The area is now something of a poor man’s Canary Wharf. 20 years ago it didn’t feel safe to walk around here; now I’m the only person walking away from the  metro at 5pm against a tide of suits. Called Pieter and he emerged 10mins later. Took elevator down to the garage, and hopped in his station wagon. Something felt a little off. Is it that he’s coming off work, and his mind is still elsewhere even though he’s doing his best to (pretend to) be present with me? Or is he pissed off at me for arriving at 5.20pm rather than at 5pm but is not going to mention it?  Brief catch up on his job (he’s heading up a 15 man team, and just got a Business Process outsourcing contract from SNS, ‘So I’m golden for the next 7 years’); Ageeth (“It doesn’t do her any good to cater to her whims; I can be ‘bot’ but do think it’s better for her to get out of the house and have some social interaction”); Pleun (now 5, in the 3^rd level of the Montesorri school – which we drove past); Ciske (taking the course to become a personal trainer – the theory exam is in November, and the practical is in December; her birthday is Oct 24^th 1972, fyi). Oddly Huub & Mom’s departure seemed kind-of non-news. I had bags with me full of books and gifts for him and the family, and he asked if I’d had a good trip. When I said I’d just seen them off this morning, he remained quiet. He did say something to the effect of, ‘Well, Marybeth must be happy’ and I felt compelled to explain how Marybeth has not been pining for the US, and it’s about having a support network at hand should anything go wrong with her or Huub’s health.

Tbc