The Day is Dimmer Now

Colin Buckland
 8th June 2020

He was a good man
never raised his voice
or had an evil word to say
walked not in fear of God
but holding God's great hand
not lighting a flickering candle
but one almighty flame
which rose unto God's heaven
in Colin's blessed name

Annie Elliott

My eyes are smarting still, unable to contain the welling tears. The man I have known for nearly 60 years has left us. We met on the first day of term at our new university, both reading physics, both making a bee line to sign up for the sailing stand. At 18, neither of us could sail, but went each week determined to practice, and to learn the hard way through many capsizes. We shared flats together in London for our three years together, and his home, first in Watford, then the IoW when his parents retired there, became my own. We were still sailing together until Ann and I sold our last boat.

The news came through this morning at 8:15, within half an hour of his death.

Even the dogs sense the loss, sitting at my feet with ears laid back, tails low and eyes heavy, pawing their sympathy as though sensing grief. Excepting my brothers and his sisters, with our parents passing we became the two who had known each other longest. Closer than a brother, he was my best friend and  utterly dependable and honest, ever in good humour, with a ready song or poem to his lips to entertain or lift our hearts. He had the joy of knowing from an early age what he wanted to do with his life: become a teacher, first at a school in Sierra Leone where he met his wife, Ann, then in Cambridge, finally at the European School in Luxembourg where he worked until he retired. He was one of those rare people who did exactly what he had set out to do: help youngsters to delight in learning so that, whatever their own vocation, they might reach their potential with a love for science and the curiosity and wonder it engenders.

Music was his other great love and passion, winning many eulogies for the work he did in founding and supporting local choirs in Luxembourg. Ann and I met up with him in Edinburgh soon after we started our lives together in Saltburn, when he and his choir went to the Festival to present the world premiere of a St Andrew's Mass they had written. We had little money then, and slept on the kitchen floor of the apartment they had rented. People kept coming through in the morning, stepping over us to make drinks.

Now, we wished to light a candle and add a prayer in his memory, but the churches are locked as though the state is trying to suppress religious freedom. We went therefore to the Marian Shrine at Clare Priory, which is an ancient wooden building with open timbers to one side, only to find they have added a glass protecting wall across it, and the ancient interior is being decorated, so all chairs and candle stands were gone. We therefore went into the ancient ruins where the alter still stands open to the air, and there in an ancient niche we placed our candles out of the wind and stood in silent, prayerful memory to a great man. The world is darker now, the silence lies more heavy by his going.

The Marian Shrine being refurbished

Lighting candles to Colin at Clare Priory

News from abroad

Susan enjoying freedom in her kayak

I started a new job last week, which is fulfilling but stolid, lacking the electrifying moments that might satisfy an avid reader. Therefore, lacking much of excitement in our own lives, I am today reflecting the lives of two friends of ours in Australia whose wedding we attended, already seven years ago. They send sympathies on hearing of our lockdown; they are now free to go anywhere within Queensland, but not to cross the state line. It's autumn there, and Susan describes it as a magical time, when the weather cools and the skies are a brilliant blue. They have a large house set in wide grounds with a stream at the bottom, that seems to border on raw jungle.

Having no good pictures of my own recently, I am putting two of theirs in. Susan is a keen kayaker, and is now able to get out again for solitary paddles, though her all-time favourite sport is dragon boat racing. Brian has been planting their extensive gardens with exotica, including a banana tree which this year produced its first fruit. He was proudly filmed wielding a machete to cut the first harvest. He is a keen volleyball player, so I suspect the machete forms a close substitute until he can smash a ball again.

Brian harvests his bananas

Kate, the sister of my friend Colin in Luxembourg rang to update us on his condition. He has Alzheimer's and had to be moved to a home, for his wife Anne is near 80 and lacked the strength to support him any longer. He recently had a fall with a fractured hip, so has continued to deteriorate since then, and the news is that his two children have now gone out to be with him. I have known him for nearly 50 years, and he was Edwin's godfather, so we feel the pain and anxiety greatly.

Encouraged by a bit of improvement, I am starting another painting, this time of Freddie Mercury. He is one of my favourite singers, though I came to him late, and was inspired by the recent film, Bohemian Rhapsody. I have even been emboldened to buy some more paints and fine detail brushes, and will put the final effort on line when it's done for all to share.

LATE UPDATE: Unhappy further news from Luxembourg. Our friend Colin's children had to drive there, arriving late last night, because there is no air traffic. Colin has now received the last rites. We will be unable to attend the funeral, but Edwin and Andre may be able to go to represent us.

A new picture

With dogs on path to Lavenham

Ann walked with me yesterday to exercise the dogs. We aimed for our old haunt, The Swan, but turning in the car park was full with double parking, and the field behind had been roped off. Nick, the manager, came out as we were struggling to turn round and said everyone had been using it to visit Clare, so he'd roped it off because he wanted to mow the grass. We then moved on to Rodbridge, but this too was packed with many picnickers spreading over the whole area. Finally, we went to one of the garden centres in Long Melford, parking at the very far end away from the shoppers, where there is a lovely path to Lavenham, several miles away.

In the evening we had another quiz, presented by Lucia. She chose some good questions, covering the wide range of ages and knowledge, and about 11 of us took part.

I've been getting some bad cramps recently, so in an attempt to stop it I have given up alcohol at present, so was drinking juice. I won't pretend it is easy: I miss my wine and whisky. However, I have abstained for three days and thus far it is working; I have been free of cramp for three nights. I will keep it up for a bit longer and see if it continues to help.

We had a lot of junk from clearing the garage to make a studio that had been cluttering outside, but I'm not allowed to go to the tip whilst in isolation, so when Mary Anne and Sam came round again for a chat and shopping they took it to the tip for us. I finished another painting today, this time of Lucy and Edwin when he was new born. It took some time to paint, and shows some improvement, but Lucy's hair is fine and long, with subtle waves and colouring. It would need a Pre Raphaelite to capture it well and I will never do it justice, but I keep making the attempts.

Lucy with Edwin when a baby

When in previous posts I made comments about China's involvement with the Covid-19 virus, and made certain suggestions, I qualified them by saying they were my conspiracy theories (see Expanding boundaries). I note today that Sir Richard Dearlove, ex head of MI6, has published an analysis of the genetic fingerprint of the virus. Apparently it has gene insertions that don't occur naturally, but are designed to increase its ability to adhere to human cells, thereby rendering human-to-human transmission more possible. The emerging fact that it also sticks to male cells more aggressively than female, and targets people of Western origin more than Oriental, adds to the suspicion that this was a designed virus rather than natural. This suggests that my wild conspiracy theory may not be so improbable, and re-enforces the need to become more independent from China, and not share so much technology with them.

Quiz night

We held our weekly quiz last night, this time compèred by Matthew and Rosie. They gave a good assortment of questions, including some on Rosie's speciality of food (she was a professional chef), and Matthew's work on motorbikes and insurance! The number attending each week has slowly grown, with 11 groups logging in this time.

I have finished another picture of one of the grandchildren. I feel there is some improvement, but still considerable way to go before I establish smooth tonal blending, and better colouring. However, it remains a good relaxation, for when I have to concentrate on this, I cannot think of anything else. I imagine art must be a good distraction therapy for agitation or tension. Whether it helps people with depression though, I don't know. Judging by the agitation it induced when I painted my other grandson (see Painting problems),
I rather think it might make someone more depressed when it all goes wrong.   

On the political front, Dominic Cummings remains in his post despite a week of ridicule and degredation of the prime minister. When the story first broke, Ann as usual showed great insight; she predicted this saying he would not be going, whereas I was certain he would have to be dismissed. It seems that Boris cannot do without him, though the vitriol it has stirred will almost certainly come back to haunt him.

Meeting up again

We are all cheered by the news that lockdown is to be eased from Monday. We drove out to our old sailing haunts of Woolverstone and Shotley to enjoy a change of scene and the fresh sunny air, watching the newly awakened boating fraternity getting ready for a delayed season. I had prepared a picnic which we ate in the car, on obedience to the rules, but Shotley was already too busy to walk the dogs without closely meeting people.

In the evening, an arranged visit by one of our neighbours to share a beer and a whisky in the garden. To try and keep the Hundon men's group going, he had invited me and several others round for drinks in his garden, but not feeling ready to meet a large group I ducked that one. This was by way of compensation.

Busy bees

We continue to see large numbers of bees, generally busying themselves in the fruit trees. Today however a huge queen landed on our window, mounted by a drone busy in other ways. They remained occupied for about 15 minutes, before he finally fell off exhausted. She preened herself for a few moments then flew off through the trees, presumably to found another colony somewhere.

Things are moving foreward

We had visitors yesterday in the form of our friends Rae and Malcolm. We sat in the garden at the requisite distance, and gave them cold drinks in throwaway cups. I know only one visitor is supposed to come at a time, but we could hardly leave one of them sitting in the car or ask them to take it in turns. It was really good to see them and have a good catch-up. That particular rule is foolish anyway; if one visitor has CV, the chances are their partner has it too; and if one is clear, they should both be clear. Likewise us: we wouldn't accept anyone coming into the garden if we had symptoms of CV, but the pleasure in seeing new faces more than compensates for a mild flouting of the law. Beside, we can now use the example of Dominic Cummings and cite pressing mental needs and the requirement, nay the necessity, of company to alleviate the symptoms of boredomitis.

I've finally finished my portrait of my grandson. As reported earlier, I have worked and reworked the face to try and get the shading right, but have finally stopped. I have come to accept it for what it is, so you will have to also.

In my previous blog (Hundon-honey) I spoke of the anguish of the many people denied proper care under the NHS whilst this pandemic rages, or awaiting follow-up appointments to check for recurrence of cancers.   Well, I have finally received a follow up appointment I was due for the chest clinic. It is to be a telephone appointment by the consultant, so I presume he will ask me to place the phone on my chest and take some deep breaths so he can check my breathing. He might ask me to pull my shirt up and put my hands over my ribs to see if I can feel any rales. I'm not sure what he'll do about the follow-up chest X-ray though; perhaps he'll ask me to stand in front of a bright light.

We are listening to the SpaceX launch sequence as I write this blog. It is the first human US launch for some time, since the Shuttle programme shut down. At T-22, the team is uncertain if the weather will be favourable of if they will have to abort the flight. If it does take off, it is scheduled to pass over Cambridge at 21:45 so we may be able to see it pass, although it is still quite light at these high latitudes. [Hot news: lift-off cancelled because of poor weather outlook over launch site].

Hundon Honey and the wrong bees

This lockdown is causing a lot of difficulty for we who don't have CV but need some other service from the NHS.  Ben was told he needed a fasting blood test, but when he turned up at the surgery, starving and hungry, he had a slight sore throat, probably from hay fever, so they refused to admit him for the test. For my own part, I was due to go for a number of follow-up appointments and a body scan to check I have no recurrence of cancer, all now cancelled. When our neighbour had another mini-stroke recently, the doctors refused to come out, but just sent an ambulance round. It's as though GPs are getting paid full whack for doing virtually nothing.

Bees in the birdbox

Today started off busily with an early phone call to say the new vacuum cleaner would be delivered soon after eight. I went to unlock the back gate ready for the delivery and noticed a swarm of bees buzzing round the entrance to the bird nesting box Sam had made for us. I noticed them first last night when it was already dusk, but thought they were flies and there might be a dead bird on the box. But in the morning light, they were definitely bees, so we called Luke the bee man who lives in Hundon and has a notice pinned up asking for information about any swarms he could collect. He came within half-an-hour, a young man with a childish, innocent face, telling me he had taken up beekeeping as a way of giving something back to the environment. He already has a good number of hives in Hundon, and sells the honey locally, and hopes to do it professionally full-time eventually. He was dressed head to toe in a boiler suit of brilliant white, with a hood covering his face with netting. Unfortunately, he took one look at them and pronounced "Those are Bumble Bees, not Honey Bees!" However, he taped up the entrance hole to contain them, and took them away to allow them to resettle somewhere away from the housing.

Luke the Beeman tackling the swarm

I walked the dogs round the quiet fields at the back of the house. Ann advised against going to Clare for this, as it was reported to be packed with no room in the carpark and people unable to keep any distance apart, social or otherwise. Yet a letter in Hundon Facebook reported a couple playing music in their garden who were reported by neighbours, and four policemen in two squad cars turned up, which is a bit excessive by any measure. What happed to the solitary village policeman, putting in a quiet word of caution?

I have attempted to correct the face in my newest picture, but it is getting more difficult, and the layers of paint are becoming so thick it is more like a bas-relief than a painting. Nevertheless I am determined to try and get the colours and deep shadows better, and will not show a picture of it yet until it is done.

Yesterday, the boys came round bringing some welcome food and a picnic they had prepared, which we enjoyed in the warm sun. Tonight, we ate a delicious mushroom stroganoff they had prepared and left for us. We are being truely spoilt.