Evensong and Zwolle

Sunday January 23

Today Choral Evensong in The Hague, always a joyful occasion. In spite of the absence of quite a number of sopranos – out of voice due to all the wet blessings from above –, it sounded really good. Probably because Christina our choirmaster and Lucy, a conservatory  student,  accompanied the Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis on respectively a beautifully decorated harpsichord and a cello. They also prevented us from slowing down, so the basses were almost out of breath. They could not indulge in admiring their own voices, which they seem to do most of the time. Just as well. So the rather simple music kept its dancing rhythm.

A pity the Evensong was not very well-attended. We should really advertise more, but even in church Evensong is only mentioned as an afterthought. Quite in contrast with the youth services which take place on Sunday evenings. Is choral evensong considered just a hobby of the choir? We seem to be relics of the past, almost fossils. Ebdon may not be my favourite composer, but it was a joy singing both his Preces and Responses as well as his Canticles. At least we knew the music well, better than the cantor – the priest or priest to be, taking the service -, who had difficulty singing just an "a". And to me it is far more uplifting than all the Praise songs which have mostly no musical merit whatsoever and are often quite sentimental in the bargain. Whereas the beauty of the words of the Magnificat and the Nunc Dimittis are timeless.

Saturday

A free travel pass, free museum entrance, and a blank day in my diary, what better excuse does a girl need for a day out? So I took the train to Zwolle.

It is sad to see how the original Dutch landscape is gradually being erased and obscured by endless business parks which spread like an ever growing cancer along roads and train tracks. One still gets occasional glimpses of thatched low-roofed farmhouses, sheltered from the wind by trees. Of fields and arable land. Small country lanes dissect the landscape. The bare branches of the trees lining the roads form a beautiful pattern against the sky. But more and more this idyllic picture is disappearing. Church spires and windmills are blocked by cubic, uninteresting sheds and industrial buildings. If one went for a bike ride, surely one would see that a lot of the hamlets and villages are still unspoilt, but why this urge to build along train tracks and motorways? To discourage tourism?

Zwolle is an old "Hanze" town, one of the towns around what once was the Zuiderzee (zee=sea),  and which is now a lake. A quote from Wikipedia:

"The Hanseatic League (also known as the Hanse or Hansa) was an economic alliance of trading cities and their guilds that dominated trade along the coast of Northern Europe in the later Middle Ages. It stretched from the Baltic to the North Sea and inland during the Late Middle Ages and early modern period (c.13th–17th centuries). The Hanseatic cities had their own legal system and furnished their own protection and mutual aid, and thus established a sort of political autonomy and in some cases created political entities of their own."

The Hanze towns were rich, and the many interesting and varied gables,  gable stones and decorations are a living proof of that. Zwolle is still surrounded by water, although there is no connection to the open sea any more. Apart from the pleasure yachts, there are still many working river barges moored around Zwolle.

I had chosen Zwolle because of the exhibition in "Museum de Fundatie", Neo-classicism and Biedermeier, art from the collections of the Prince of Liechtenstein.  According to the blurb, this is considered to be one of the most important private art collections in the world, collected during the past four centuries. The collection was kept hidden during the second world war, but the family had to sell a large part of it after the war. They now try to buy art back at auctions. It has been on display in Moscow and Prague, and after Zwolle will be permanently housed in Vienna. Enough reason to go and see the exhibits, mainly paintings and china. The paintings are very colourful, very detailed, smooth, with no visible brush strokes. The portraits show healthy, rich children, princes, little princesses, a whole royal generation. The paintings and the china don't leave much to the imagination. Especially the china, which has extensive and detailed views of Vienna painted on cups and saucers, saucers which are very deep with a high rim. It would be easy to pour hot fluid from the cup into the saucers and drink from the saucer, a habit which country folk might have had but which seems unimaginable at such an elegant court.

Zwolle is very busy on a dull and dreary  Saturday in January, a market day at that. One of the two biggest churches, called the "Peperbus" (Pepper salver, so called because of the shape of the "spire") is open. It has an interesting history and goes back to medieval times, originally built between 1399 and 1454. It began life as a Roman Catholic church, and is now a Roman Catholic church again, since the end of the 20^th century even a "basilica minor", after centuries of vicissitudes, neglect and misfortunes. There are a few medieval objects left. The abundant  decorations in the choir, as well as the stages of the cross, are all 19^th century embellishments. We have to thank one mid 19^th century priest for that, who could not live with the bare walls, the result of iconoclasm and later further abuse of the church.

There are many medieval remains and ruins in Zwolle, former chapels of monasteries and nunneries, a city gate, and many more interesting buildings which, after centuries of neglect, are now being restored and preserved if possible. But much has been destroyed and is lost forever.

Thank you for feeding us

Sharing a meal is the most enjoyable experience there is. Utterly appreciated when one lives alone. No wonder the last supper was chosen as a symbol, a sacrament. Sharing food, the source of life, prepared with awareness of where it comes from, how it grows and how it nourishes us and sustains our lives, is an almost religious experience. If one is aware of that, one tries not to waste any food. 


Here is a recipe for fish. 
I usually cook it in the oven, as the original taste is best that way, and one does not need much oil or fat. Any fish will do. I love cod, Dover sole, halibut, sea wolf, plaice, salmon etc. One can use fillets or steaks, but in case of sole, cook the whole fish, bones and all. It makes for a more succulent dish and enhances the taste. It is very easy to just take the fish off the bone after cooking.
Needed:
Some fragrant olive oil, crushed garlic (optional), a lemon or lime, green herbs, pepper and salt, some stock (can be made from powder or tablets).

• Grease an ovenproof oval dish with the olive oil.
• Season the fish with herbs, pepper, salt, and if required the crushed garlic, and place the fish ( skin down if there is a skin) in the dish. The dish should be big enough for the fish not to overlap too much.
• Squeeze the juice out of half a lemon and sprinkle that over the fish. Cut thin slices of the rest of the lemon and arrange them on top of the fish.
• Add some cherry tomatoes cut in half, add a bit of stock and some dry white wine. The fish need not be completely covered. The white wine is optional, but it gives the fish a very delicate taste. Any alcohol will evaporate anyway.
• Preheat the oven to 175-200 degrees Celsius. Put the dish in for about 25-30 minutes. When the fish is white and flaky, - the top may be slightly browned - it is ready. If still translucent, you need to put it back for another 5-10 minutes.

Do not overcook, as the fish will lose its fine taste and become dry. 
You can put the juices through a strainer, mix some butter with the liquid and pour it over the fish.
Delicious with new potatoes and green beans, broccoli, or small carrots and mange-touts.

And again rain, rain, rain, pouring rain. To the market for fish, fruit and vegetables. Plenty of parking space and empty stalls. If it had been snow, we would have been buried by now. I feel rich when I am filling bowls with firm apples, grapes, bright orange tangerines and shrivelled cooking pears, now so ugly but after stewing in wine a deep dark red. Delicious with cream or fat Greek yoghurt. Comfort food in wintertime, cinnamon and dark muscovado sugar sprinkled on top. 
Quite a surprise today, an unexpected guest for dinner. How nice to share sparkling white wine and freshly cooked food in good company.

Mad day

Busy day. Mad day? Varied day? Never a boring moment? Perhaps. One type of physio at 9. A quick talk at the car dealer's and an appointment for an MOT. Picked up some groceries on my way home, where I arrived just in time for an editing job with and author at 10.15. A hasty hot lunch at 12.30, and off to a different physio session in a different place at 13.30. Straight from there on to my father, a drive of some 75 minutes. At 98 he needs looking after. Not back home till 23.30 and tired. Seeing a loved one decline is emotionally draining. Found two more applications for a 15-hour job in my letterbox, which brings the number to 26! We should never have advertised for the job. A hopeless task sorting through 26 letters. Or at least very time-consuming, time which I haven't got at present. I definitely need a glass of wine - or two - or ....!

Dementia

Dementia. When does one admit that a loved one, parent, grandparent, is sliding into dementia? Is losing one's ability to perform everyday tasks dementia? Being unable to dress or undress, being unable to tell the time of day, not being able to read a clock anymore, nor knowing what those numbers and those hands mean? Not knowing what to do with the knobs of the microwave after a long history of doing that without thinking about it? Not knowing whether it is morning or evening, whether to eat or not to eat? Yes, that is dementia. Hard to accept when a loved one can still very lucidly talk about religion, politics, philosophy, his children and grandchildren.  Can it be triggered by fever, antibiotics, change of surroundings, change of routine? It certainly helps to stay in familiar surroundings, but is that always possible? How can a parent remain that parent one always knew and respected? The person who knew so many things, never lost his way and now can't even find the way in his own village anymore. It is very hard if there is loss of decorum as well.

In Paradisum

Why am I always upset when there is no church service, no requiem mass or funeral service, when we say our farewells to our loved ones, to people we have known? I need to hear In Paradisum te deducant angeli, not the Beatles' Yesterday. A life has to make sense, needs a connection with the past and the future. The end should not be a hole in the ground, a deep and dark pit swallowing up life. Neither an all-consuming fire which leaves us with just a handfull of ashes.  Life should be passed on from one generation to another. Otherwise, what is the point?

Rain

Rain, rain, rain and a funeral. A long walk across the cemetery. So much wind that umbrellas are turned inside out, useless after today. The coffin is painted lily white, quite theatrical. Her whole life was a play, her funeral is her last act, she the leading lady. Her daughter tells us how desperately she had wanted a "normal" mother when she was just a child, a mother who baked cookies, made apple pies, a mother who owned an apron. Instead she would take her daughter to a theatre, put her in a seat with a lollypop to keep het quiet, and would then suddenly appear on stage in funny clothes, talking, acting and walking differently from her normal self, making a fool of herself. Her daughter would be ashamed of her, would be glad when the play was over and her mother had transformed herself again into the mother she knew.