Peace and strife

Peace

I love trees 

their leaves 

bring a whispering mystery 

to calm the frantic soul, 

While unquiet spirits storm 

and find no rest, 

I only need a tree 

to calm my breast.

Annie Elliott

We have returned from a great break in Northumberland, staying at a magnificent country house. Technically, we were in a small wing at the back of the house, the former servants' quarters, but it was still luxurious with large bedrooms, multiple bathrooms, and a huge kitchen and sitting room. We had hoped to have visitors come and share with us, and Edwin and Andre did come for a few days by train. Lucy and family visited on a day trip but did not stay over because of schooling. During the visit, Ann was reminded on her great love of peace and her passion for trees, ultimately the most peaceful of symbols in a living, lively world. 

Some years ago when we lived in Clare, we had a local Clare-based dentist. Unfortunately, many of his patients developed problems with their dental work and complained. Eventually he was struck off for incompetence and dishonesty. Last week, so many years later, Ann also became a victim of the man's efforts when a crown he had fitted worked loose and came off during our holiday. She attended an emergency session with our new dentist in Hadleigh, who diagnosed that the remaining stump, to which it had been attached, was too small and damaged to re-crown and the the thing would need extraction. This he judged too difficult for his meagre abilities so arranged an appointment with a specialist odontological surgeon.

On Thursday, the operation of Ann's mouth began. The session had been booked for half an hour, but the root was a small, fractured and half-buried remnant so the poor girl had to have repeated injections as the gum was incised and the broken adherent root fragments drilled and grinded, gripped and heaved at. She was in the chair for one and a half hours and needed six stitches. Coming out, a sizable queue had formed as she staggered down the stairs. Because of the stupid Covid restrictions, I had been standing outside in the rain to wait for her, but I was glad I did because she needed my arm to steady her as we returned to the car park. Then, walking the dogs in Clare next day, a new sign in a shop window proclaimed Ann's belief. Tree Action Society of Clare (TASC) proudly proclaims they also stand for trees. Let's all go plant a tree for peace. Now, three days later, Ann has a huge hard swelling over the jaw and a huge pain she is desperately trying to suppress with various pain-killers. I am cooking her omelettes, the only thing she can eat besides her diet of soup and milk.

Also in Clare, I had to drop a prescription in to our doctors. While the dentist has remained open throughout the pandemic, seeing patients in the most intimate of ways via their maskless mouths, for eighteen months the doctor's surgery has greeted the ill and dying with a locked door and this sign: "STOP!!! Knock on window if you have an appointment". No one I know has seen their GP in all this time, and I am ashamed of the profession or to admit I once was a GP.

We have a leak

 Ann, walking with bare feet, noted a wet patch on the hall carpet. I apologised and said I must have spilt the coffee when I carried it through. Next morning, I felt a drip on my head. A crack had appeared in the ceiling, with a spreading stain. Investigation tracked it to the airing cupboard, and the valve to open the hot water system when the timer called it on. Water was jetting out, but only when the hot water went on so I wedged a baking tray to catch the leak.

We managed to get a plumber quickly, who made the diagnosis and phoned his supplier about a replacement valve. They had one in stock but said it had been reserved for another plumber; but when our man bent their ear with a plea about "this is an emergency", they agreed to order another valve in for the other guy. Our man returned quickly with the part, and then performed a miracle of plumbing engineering. He wrapped a sleeve round the pipe above and below the valve, and pumped freon through it. The pipe quickly froze solid, so he could replace the valve without having to drain the system. Amazing.

Following this, Ann noticed a new stain and crack appearing on her bedroom ceiling. Because of my severe itching, we have slept separately but for some time she had been disturbed by loud nightly noises in the attic above her rather than in the bed beside her. We worried that it might be rats or bats, or birds nesting, but the attic was clear of debris or droppings. Finally, we tracked it down to a pair of starlings nesting under the roof tile where the cement had broken away. We waited a few weeks until they had fledged, then found a local guy called Josh. The valley troughs were replaced a few years ago to fix other leaks, but Josh said they must have been cowboys because all the pointing to seal them under the tiles had worked loose and needed replacing. The birds had got in, and now the rain too. 

The Widower

I am continuing painting, turning to the neighbours for subjects. The first is David, who was widowed two years ago (see Stories and funeral). He is the affable organiser of our little Hundon men's group, but has the saddest eyes as though reflecting on all the might-have-beens in his life. My next neighbour must be selected to bring more cheer to the painting.

Happy Birthday Ann!

It is Ann's birthday, so last week we went to the opera to celebrate. The The De Vere Horsley Estate where we stayed is a large mansion set in 300 acres of Surrey with a fascinating history. Built in 1820 by Sir Charles Barry; the architect of the Houses of Parliament, it was bought by the Lovelace family. Ada Lovelace, the daughter of Lord Byron, was a close friend of Charles Babbage and helped him by writing the first computer program for his mechanical computer, and a modern computer language has been named in her memory. Another famous owner was Sir Thomas Sopwith, inventor of the Sopwith Camel First War fighter plane.

Normally busy with conferences and weddings, it was eerily quiet with few guests, several of whom, like us, were staying for the opera. There is still only a skeleton staff working. All large weddings are on hold, and the manager (who was doubling as a bar waiter in the evening and breakfast waiter in the morning) told us that there are hundreds of weddings, delayed for up to 18 months, booked in solidly every day from the moment the hotel reopens for normal business. He is Irish but had been back to Dublin only once during the emergency, for the funeral of his brother who had died suddenly from Covid.

Ann returns from her trip below

Ann and I were roomed in the tower. Although a romantic situation, the room was inevitably a little cramped being built into the thick curved wall. The toilet, as large as the bedroom, was in the room below accessed by a steep spiral staircase. Paying a nighttime visit required great care with a steady grip of the handrail. 

We dressed in our finery ready to drive the short distance to the venue at Grange Park, but there was a minor hold up when I tried to do up my dress trousers. They appeared to have shrunk, so I could not make the tab meet the button on the other side. No matter how tightly I pulled, there remained a stubborn gap of a couple of inches. In the end, I was pulling so hard the tag tore through the cloth, so I ended up wearing a dress jacket, fancy shirt, bow tie, and my ordinary dark trousers. Luckily, I had not driven down in jeans! Finally we arrived to see Falstaff, with Bryn Terfel as the glutenous and lecherous fat Shakespearean knight. At 79, Verdi was even older than me when he composed this wonderful piece. 

We had seats at the front of the stalls, and with the orchestra tucked away under the stage, we were but a few feet away from the great man and could appreciate every nuance of gesture, and every tone of Bryn's superb voice. It was a truly magical night, with a hamper picnic in the park. Unfortunately, because of staff shortages, the hotel bar had closed at 10p.m. so we enjoyed a nightcap in our room instead.

Happy Birthday Ann 

Dr Edwin Marr, PhD

 

Celebrating wth Dr. Eds

Edwin has worked hard these last three-and-a-half years towards his doctorate in English Literature. He has combined this with working as a temporary lecturer at ARU and UEA, which inevitably took a lot of time in preparation and marking. He finally submitted his thesis on space in the railways earlier this year and had his viva on Monday. The work covered the mid-Victorian period when railways were growing in their reach, and many writers of the period were responding to this in both negative and positive ways through literature and poetry. The viva was conducted by two people who are experts in the field. Despite some nervousness, he remained cool and analytical in his answer, and received glowing reports from both examiners. The independent chair commented that it was "the best and most interesting viva" he had ever chaired. He passed with flying colours, and their only recommendation was to change a few minor typos. 

Happily, Ann and I could arrange for our friends Rae and Malcolm to come over to dog sit, and we could go straight over to celebrate with him and his partner Andre. We took what we thought was a good bottle of bubbly which was quickly downed, but then Edwin broke out a bottle of vintage 2010 Bollinger he had bought specially for the celebration. This was so smooth and gentle on the pallet, we sank it rapidly with much toasting and congratulations. It too went down all too rapidly. Edwin and Andre had booked a smart Greek bistro near the centre of Cambridge for a meal. This was Andre's treat, and more toasts were raised over a fine Greek white wine. Then we walked down the road to the University Arms hotel where we could enjoy cocktails in their oak-panelled library, then over the road to a lively night club, open until 02:00, for more cocktails before getting a Uber taxi back to the apartment. 

Eds had made up a bed for the night (I certainly could not have driven home) and we crashed out, but managed to get up at 06:30 and leave without disturbing the boys. We were back home for 08:00 to let the dogs out, and for me to start work again. Every one of our seven children has done well, but this was definitely a night to remember and cherish. Congratulations Edwin. We are so proud of you.

Formal funeral in Clare

 

Formal funeral in Clare

Taking the dogs for their daily walk in Clare yesterday, I spotted a traditional funeral cortege. It was just leaving Martin's the undertakers, carrying the coffin to the church where the vicar came out to escort the coffin to its central place in the aisle. I did not learn who had died, but clearly someone who wished for a traditional send off. Formal horse drawn funerals are rare in Clare, although I did see one a while before, when the horses and carriage were brought together in the park prior to their journey to collect the coffin.

Ann and I have been working hard to repair the damaged decking at the back of the house, ripping up the old decking and placed it in the skip. Then, following Ann's idea, we filled the far half with gravel. That was a job and a half, because of the depth of the wooden surround. Lacking hardcore to fill the base, we had to buy bags of gravel before getting the top layer of smooth Scottish pebbles. We estimate that we moved a ton and a half of stone between us, from the garden centre to the car, then the car to the site. We were glad to sit down after the last bag was in place.

Next, we have ordered the new decking boards delivered yesterday, and spent the morning shifting them to the site in readiness for screwing down. In the evening, our friends Rae and Malcolm came to share a takeaway supper from the Rose and Crown, our local pub. Malcolm is in his 80's, but has already volunteered himself to help fix the boards in place at the weekend (weather allowing). We prepared ourselves with a good lubrication of wine.

I have now finished two more portraits, the one of Ann in her natural pose, the other of one of our granddaughters, but I regret I cannot publish either. Modesty forbids in one case, and in the other, MA likes to protect her children by not publishing photos of them on line. However, we see them and I am quite pleased with the results.

The Empty Chair

The Empty Chair

After receiving some complements about my hat from some boys in Clare Park (not sure if they were being facetious, but no matter), I decided to paint it for memory's sake. It is slung from the old wooden chair in my room, which looked so bare I had to call it more poignantly,  The Empty Chair. The room is not really empty; in fact, it is fully cluttered with papers and books piled high against every wall, but apart from the pain of having to paint clutter, it would then have to be called The Lost Chair, for it would hardly be visible.

Finally, we are all emerging from lockdown. we can eat outside under blankets (al fresco dining is not suited to April weather in England), and most shops have reopened - at least, those that haven't gone into receivership  due to the harsh conditions of lockdown). I have returned to our local art shop in Bury to browse and buy a few bits, so much more pleasant than perusing an on-line catalogue.

Ann likes to order her clothes online now, and even though the shops are open one still can't use changing rooms in any case. Last week she ordered a new skirt and went upstairs to try it. Suddenly I heard a plaintiff cry, "John - John - help!". The poor girl had pulled it down over her head and got it as far as the waist, but it was very tight and she couldn't get it off again. It really was stuck. I could hardly get a finger in under the band, but managed to wriggle it slowly back up. It was very difficult getting it past the breasts, though it was so tight. Finally I succeeded, and could ease it over Ann's extended arms. It wasn't because Ann was being vain ordering a skirt too small, she explained, it was the same size as she always orders, but some of the foreign made ones make them too small. Some good is coming out of all this though. I took a number of photos of Ann in the altogether, and we chose one for me to paint. I look forward to finishing it.

Outside, we have done a bit of gardening, and decided to renew the patio. This was built for us by Sam many years ago, but has finally succumbed to age and weathering, and some of the boards have started to rot. We had quotes for rebuilding the decking or changing it to a stone patio, but the quotes are humendous. So we have removed the old decking ourselves and stacked it up ready to order a skip. The framework is still sound, so we'll just buy new decking for most of it, and plan to fill the remained with gravel.

 
 

Ravens in Suffolk

The surgery seemed to have forgotten to call me for my second jab.  Ann suggested I drop a note into the surgery as GPs are never there anymore, and their telephone is a minefield of selections and waiting, with only Dalek voices at the end. But hot news - I had my second Covid jab last night. The first jab was in January, but following the government's unusual policy, the second was spaced three months later. I think they called it right on this one, so hopefully the whole country will have some protection soon and we can get out and about again. 

Ann in Lockdown

I have completed a portrait of Ann. It shows the isolation of lockdown, with Ann working on her Apple in a stark, bare room, just a coffee cup and volume of poetry for company (I was behind the camera, then in the studio painting). It is a larger painting, oil on canvas, 14"x12". I am keen to try some larger canvases soon, when the art shop in Bury reopens and I can browse and select the things I want.

With no prospect of foreign travel at the moment, we have booked a week away in Northumberland. I hope to take the paint set up there and try some plein air painting, as we artists call it (I'm slowly learning the terms now, thinks to my YouTube tutors). 

Edwin has had another prang in his car. This was not his fault as he wasn't in it; it was parked in the private carpark behind his flat in Cambridge. Someone had reversed into it with a towbar, but left without leaving their contact details. A witness told Edwin which flat owner had done it, and Edwin left a note asking them to cough up, but they have denied it. He is reluctant to inform the police over it, so will probably have to pay for the repairs himself. This is the second time someone has bumped into him in a carpark, and just left. It is an expensive business.

Ravens in Hundon

We are getting a lot of birds now, with the feeders up round the house. Beside all the little ones, yesterday Ann spotted a pair of ravens. They are huge birds and landed on the roof of the saloon, then hopped down to the lawn to feed at the foot of the bird table, frightening off the pigeons that usually take up positions there to wait for seed to fall. This bird table must be an antique now; my dad made it for my mum more than 50 years ago, and I brought it down to Suffolk when they died. Ravens are rare in Suffolk, but Ann discovered that a breeding pair had been reported three years ago, so perhaps they are returning to the area.