Articles from: 2014

one week in, one week to go…

it’s more like June than April – hot sun, blue sky, hot days, cold nights – but so dry an island… I cannot complain, but I do wish rain for the island, we will be in deep trouble soon without it… traditionally it ALWAYS rains at Easter, but all we got were a few drops as the bells began to ring at 11.30 Easter Sunday morning, with the sun coming out a few minutes later… at least it was a nod to tradition…

In 50 years, this is the first time I have been here for Semana Santa… I went to watch the processions Friday evening and Sunday mornings, both at Santa Maria in Mao – with the main street in Sant Lluis being torn up at the moment, nothing much going on locally, but the rites in Mao were fantastic…

Friday night was hordes of klu-klux-klan-hooded priests carrying effigies, accompanied by massed drummers in similar garb and phalanxes of Roman centurions, slowly wending their way through the narrow streets of central Mao – all very medieval… they process with an extraordinary side-swaying gait that has the effigies also swaying massively on their perches – muy impressionante…

Sunday morning was altogether cheerier, with the same drummers amplified by brass bands, and the same Roman centurions, their armour and multi-coloured helmet feathers blazing in the sunshine, but now only two effigies, those of Jesus and the Virgin Mary, who after doing the tour of the backstreets, accompanied by their individual coteries, approach the plaza of Santa Maria from opposite ends, meet in the middle in front of the cathedral and bow 3 times to each other to great applause – and then every bell in every church in town started to peal – it was deafening, in the very best possible way. On Friday night I had found myself a perch on the balcony of the Bar Nou overlooking the square and so got the birds’ eye view, but it was closed on Sunday morning so I perched on the corner of the wall at the top of the road leading down to the harbour, from where I could see the whole length of the square, up the side of the cathedral to its entrance and up to the Plaza Colon where I could see them processing away and then back… all very satisfactory… there were times when I could hear three different bands playing at the same time – yes…

Other than holy rites, I have been engaged in not much other than eating, sleeping and gardening – the things I most like to do here. I did baptize myself in the sea on good friday – god it was cold, but so clear I couldn’t help myself. I took a walk along the cliffs past Rinco Fondu to the caves, where there were a couple of guys perched on the top step. As I stood on the precipice looking down, one of them shouted across (in spanish) “do you live in biniparrell?” when I said “how did you know?” he said “I sold firewood to your sister”… It was Antonio, from the Biniparrell farm, whom I have never met, but who recognised me as diana’s sister – good lord… and who should he be sitting with but a young american.. talk about a small world…

An email from David saying Liz is fading fast… oh dear… but I actually hope that she is – having made it to 90, and having seen us all, she really has nothing left to look forward to, and the quality of her life has taken a massive downward turn, so I hope she gets out as quickly and painlessly as possible. We had a wonderful conversation the day I left – she was more present than she’d been the whole 2 weeks… talking about all my traveling, she said “I don’t know where I’ll end up – after all, I’m 90, and I don’t suppose they’ll give me a job.” God bless her, I do love her so, and wish her god speed…

And so the 2 weeks are up, and tomorrow I move on… talk about event density… we have sorted the contents of Fern House , the potting shed is bursting at the seams; Diana and I did our gig at the Village Hall; and I am the proud owner of a brand new Fylde mandola – what a beauty… quite the star of the show, even if I don’t really know what I’m doing yet… plus the day I went over to Penrith to pick it up I asked Roger Bucknall and his wife where I could go hiking around there and they recommended Aira Force, off Ullswater – fabulous ravine with a series of falls – a lovely day all ‘round – happy birthday to me…

the village hall concert was a great success – we had a good crowd, about 50 or so, any more would have been tricky with the purely acoustic set-up, so it’s just as well there was a coach trip to darlington that evening to see ‘Grease” at the Civic Theatre! It was mostly friends but some strangers, a good mix; we raised a bunch of money for the Hall and one and all had a really good time. Might try for an annual event… btw, the backdrop in the photos is a fabulous mural of the Balder viaduct, just up the river, that used to adorn the sitting room wall of the house next door to Saltoun (where lovely neighbours Jeff and Carol now live). It was painted by Maxwell Fry, a noted architect and old friend of the family from the Tehran days, who many years ago came to stay the weekend with my folks (along with his wife Jane Drew, also architect and generally mad-wonderful person) and they ended up buying and moving into the house next door! quite a flamboyant addition to the village and source of much gossip… after they died and the house was sold, the mural was rescued and put into the village hall – a wonderful memorial to Max and Jane and the perfect backdrop for an intimate “living room” concert…

The downside of the week has been that I did something seriously wicked to one of my knees moving heavy furniture on Friday and I am a total gimp at the moment – not ideal for traveling, but oh well… poc a poc… don’t want to think about leaving sam again, but I’ll be back, and sooner than I think, possibly, depending on the state of dear aunt Liz… diana went up to scotland this morning to face her old home – what a pair of yo-yos we are… god speed…

6 months away, I come back and it’s like putting on a pair of comfortable old slippers – it’s like I’ve never been gone… the weather is filthy, it’s cold and wet, the predominant colours are grey and green – but no sooner have I landed in the village than I run into old friends and neighbors … village life… the cottage is none the worse for wear, a bit cold and damp but no leaks, and sweet sam is looking fighting fit and so happy to see me…

but not all is fun and games… dear sweet Liz is on the way out, barely in the land of the living… the first days back we have good visits, relatively, with good conversation – her body has totally crapped out on her, she is bed-ridden, but her eyes and spirit are still totally there… but by today, her 90th birthday, she has to make a supreme effort to stay with us long enough for us to give her the gifts, cut the cake, and sing a couple of songs, before she has drifted off to the land of nod… I find myself wishing she would drift off to sleep while sis and I are singing and never come back…

the past few days been a ghastly whirlwind of going through her house and dividing up the spoils between the cousins – the house is all but sold – her decision, no blame attached – but what I need like a hole in my head is more stuff, and somehow it all seems premature, altho’ I know it’s not…. however, I – we all – want to honour her life and her memory by taking on the things of her life, giving them a home with us, a continuation of some sort – plus it’s all so redolent of family, of the grandparents and generations before… but the cottage is already crammed to the gills with things from saltoun…. what will I do with it all??

we went to the morritt arms anyway, the 4 of us, david, nepole, diana and I, where we would have taken Liz, had she been up for it, and had lunch in her honour, watching the rain pour down in torrents outside… and tonight we all went to have supper with moppet and johnny (cook-hurle), which was a whole load of fun, coming home under the light of a beautiful half moon and a sky full of stars – typical of this part of the world – dreary days and clear, crisp nights…

as I said, sam is sooo happy – he is a cotherstone cat, I cannot move him; angela is happy to continue feeding him with the hope that he will move in with her by next winter… so be it… if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it…