Witweg

Sunday, 8 March 2020

City-Pier-City

Sunday March 8th

A dreary day again, rainy and dark. I am glad my new fence is standing! And how lucky we were yesterday with the weather!

Usually I go to church in The Hague where I sing in the choir every Sunday. The trouble is that big events nowadays are always organized on a Sunday. Are we so secularized that it is assumed that is what we do on a Sunday, play sports, run marathons? I am not against such events, except that they close off whole areas of a town or city, the main and through roads as well. Today is the City-Pier-City Run, which partly goes through the area and the streets where our church is situated. It means that I can reach the church as I have to be there early for choir practice, but that I am not allowed out! So, I have to stay in the area till late in the afternoon and am not allowed to drive home! I think it is just too bad. The public roads should be open at all times, not closed on a whim. I am by no means the only person whom it causes problems. Our church is a regional church, so many people come from further away and need to come by car, or train. Also trams – streetcars – and busses either don’t go at all, or take different routes so that in fact the church can only be reached on foot or by bike. A no go for me, living in another town, 30 minutes by car. This might be an annual event, but last year we were cut off twice due to some other event. Why should the rights of sports people be more important than my right to attend the church I belong to?

Garden Fence

Saturday March 8th

Sometimes we are lucky. At least, I was as well as the man who had to place a new fence at the back of my garden. For the sun was shining, and although it is still pretty cool, the back faces south and is sheltered. The old fence had collapsed, due to old age and a strong climber, a hydrangea, which like a boa constrictor had indeed strangled my fence in its embrace with its ever thickening and winding branches. It was a sorry sight.

The old fence, provisionally repaired in places where it had fallen down int the back path

Since we have a public path at the back of the houses, and burglars have frequently used this because there are escape routes on four sides, a fence is a must. Originally the back was marked by a wall of open, decorative concrete blocks, which are easy to climb and did not provide much privacy.

The concrete blocks of the original garden wall. Not very protective. The border Looks a bit messy because of all the rubbish which came from the old fence

Students of the high school on the corner used this path as a short cut when they had to run around the block, taking a break for a quick smoke, and emerging on the other side faking they were breathless, hoping the instructor hadn’t noticed the deceit They would throw all kinds of stuff into my garden. Originally there was no gate either to this path and anyone could just walk into the back garden. With a garden pond and small children around, this was just no option so we had a door made. Most house owners followed when burglaries became the order of the day.

Before all my shrubs and plants are in full leaf, the new fence had to be in place. Fortunately, I found a man who could do this. Taking the old fence down was more work than putting up the new one. The hydrangea had grown very thick and strong, had climbed over the fence, worked its way through the wooden planks and had grown into the concrete blocks at the back with tiny suckers. And the plant was extremely strong, its original stem now as thick as a tree trunk. But all is well that ends well. The brand-new fence is standing. It still looks rather bare. In fact, I do not particularly like wooden fences – but the shrubs and trees in front of it will soon be in full leaf and hide most of the fence - and the windows of the house opposite! Also colourful perennials which are still hibernating, will all of a sudden pop up. I may plant some more gentle climbers, perhaps clematis or a special kind of ivy used regularly for hedges. The trouble with ivy is that it tends to go wild, so it has to be kept under control before things get out of hand.

The new fence The whole garden looks very bare as last year several evergreens, eg a huge holly bush, had to be taken out and a majestic magnolia trees pruned drastically. But my border will be an amazing riot of clour from early summer on, and the three different acers will add some interesting hues to the garden.

Friday, 6 March 2020

Two days full of variety

An unexpected request to tutor a student so that he’ll pass his exams. It was a life time ago since I last did that! However, it was a good experience which I enjoyed more than I had expected. I hope it will prove helpful. Let us see what happens.

Phone calls with friends I haven’t seen for a long time, and an appointment with a financial adviser which never happened.

This morning I braced myself and went into the back garden first thing in the morning to prune the entwined and wild wysteria and rose, both climbers, growing over my pergola. A job which does not particularly appeal to me, as the pergola is a bit high, even when I use a ladder, and the rose has nasty thorns which go through everything. So, I dressed up for the battlefield in several layers of protective clothing, one of them being a soft-shell hoody. It is warm and keeps out the wind and the cold, and thorns cannot penetrate the material. With the addition of a baseball cap and the hood of this soft-shell jacket over it, safety glasses and very sturdy gloves I set out to do what had to be done. The rose is already sprouting leaves, and the buds of the wysteria seem to thicken every day. At two o’clock I finished, being very proud of myself and unscathed, which was a miracle. Getting rid of the long, winding tentacles of the wysteria wasn’t easy. And it was an effort to entangle rose and wysteria. The long supple but tough branches of the wysteria had even blocked some gutters so I had quite a job getting them out of those hiding places. And last but not least all those long and curling pieces had to be cut to fit in my green wheelie bin, the thorns of the rose taking revenge on being pruned so thoroughly.

Next, I cleared the garden pond to get rid of dead leaves, weeds and green algae. So I was quite satisfied when I stopped at two o’clock. Peeling off my “safety“ clothes and having a hot shower to warm up - my feet were really very cold - was bliss.

I decided a treat was in order, so I allowed myself an hour’s reading while waiting for a phone call which never came. Isn’t it maddening that nowadays any appointment has to be made online, and that even if one can find a phone number to ask questions to a real person, after going through a lengthy menu of choices, you are directed to the website which did not help with the problem in the first place and that is why you phoned. Grrrr….

By this time it had started raining again, as if we haven’t had enough. I still had to go out for food, but had to wait till 5 for this phone call, and when it never came I waited till 6 when the rush hour would be over, as I wanted to take the car instead of walk to the shops because the rain was now pelting down. But at six I got a surprise visit from an old friend, who offered me 10 fresh eggs from his own chickens, and a few copies of one of his books. I was quite touched, especially by the eggs. They looked so lovely in a bowl instead of in those cardboard supermarket boxes. I almost wanted to have my own chickens! We had a long chat which was nice. By the time my visitor had gone and I had seen to my neighbours’ house as they are on holiday, it was too late to go shopping. So I made do with a salmon steak which was in my fridge, fried cherry tomatoes and a sliced avocado. An unusual dinner, but fortunately avocado and salmon go well together.

This day also brought a sad surprise, as I received an email from a dear neighbour telling that she is very sick. It was a shock, but she seemed quite rational about it. Perhaps her way of coping. She sounded so positive and brave saying that she was lucky that she had had such a good life, never once complaining. That is amazing, as her life has been far from easy. I feel sad for her. She is some 10 years younger than I am. I admire her attitude. She has one very young granddaughter she is so happy with. I hope and pray she may live to see her grow up.

Tuesday, 3 March 2020

March 3rd, and flowers

This day, the bombing of the Bezuidenhout, a residential area of The Hague, we already commemorated in church on Sunday, but today it was also commemorated by the local council of The Hague and other officials, in front of the memorial in the heart of this area.

This is a report in the local paper of today (with thanks to Radio West):

THE HAGUE - It was a horrible mistake: the bombing in World War II of the Bezuidenhout district in The Hague. The British actually wanted to attack the dangerous German V2 rockets in the nearby Haagse Bos, but that went wrong. With more than five hundred dead and thousands wounded, this bombing became one of the deadliest air strikes in our country during the war. This Tuesday, exactly 75 years later, the bombing of Bezuidenhout is officially commemorated.

At the Juliana van Stolberg monument in Koningin Marialaan, a tribute is made to the victims with a wreath-laying. High school students and residents from the neighbourhood, along with survivors of the bombing, will remember the more than five hundred fatalities.

photo: Richard Mulder

In a different way, it was also a special day for me, but a much happier one, as at last there was a breakthrough for me, an answer to many questions. From limbo to action!

And it was a sunny day for a change, but cold. I took some pictures – again- of my hellebores in my front garden. As I used my phone and not a proper camera, it was not easy to see the beautiful hearts of the flowers, the pistils and stamen forming such a wonderful work of art. Unfortunately, they always modestly bend their flower heads to the ground. So, I have included a few pictures which I took last year. The same plants, with fresh, new flowers. It is amazing that such seemingly delicate flowers do well on the North side of the house, where I hardly tend to the garden. It is usually 10 degrees colder than at the back, which faces south and is sheltered. Such almost translucent colours, pastels and deep purple ones, with waxy leaves. And in my garden self- seeding. I suppose the soil is just right for them. I have tried to grow then in my back garden, the much more sheltered side of the house, but they haven’t thrived at all, and I had to give up.

March 1st, and the Cross of Nails

Today, the first day of March is also the first Sunday of Lent.

75 years ago, WWII ended, a historical event that will be remembered in various ways throughout this year. Films, tv and radio programmes, interviews, photo’s, they all remind us of the madness of war and the joy of our liberation, as well as the fact that at least in this country we have been able to live in peace for the past 75 years, since that time. Not every European country can say that.

Sadly, just before the end of the war, on March 3^rd 1945, a large and densely populated residential area of The Hague was bombed by mistake, by our Allies. Many innocent civilians lost their lives. For many years now this is memorized in a joint service of the Protestant, the Roman Catholic and the Anglican church. Each of them lost their church building here. After the bombardment of Rotterdam, where the heart of the city was destroyed and so many people lost their lives, this was the worst loss of innocent civilians. Like Rotterdam, the area has been rebuilt. A few years ago, information panels were placed throughout this part of The Hague to inform people of what happened and keep the memory alive for the next generation. Only a few people who lived through this dreadful ordeal are still alive to tell us what happened.

Our church choir joined the choir of the Roman Catholic church and together we sang some anthems and parts of the liturgy. There were a few survivors present in the service, but as one can imagine each year their number has declined. Some pupils of a large grammar school in this neighbourhood had written poems about this dramatic historical event and about the nightmare of war, but also about hope and peace. A young student read her own poem. Thus, we keep awareness alive, of what war can do, and we hope it helps us to strive for peace.

The cross of nails, a silver replica of the cross of nails in Coventry, was handed over from our church to the protestant church where it will stand on the altar for a year.

The English city of Coventry was also bombed and its heart totally destroyed. In the ruins of the burnt down cathedral, they found big nails from the roof beams which had survived intact. These nails were arranged in the form of a cross. This became a symbol of the reconciliation and striving for peace. Today there is a Community of the Cross of Nails. It is a worldwide network of over 200 churches, charities, peace-building centres, and educational and training organisations, inspired by the Coventry story of destruction, rebuilding and renewal, and active in reconciliation in their own ways. The Hague is part of this Community, as is Dresden, which was also destroyed deliberately and cost so many people their lives.

In February 2015 I sang in Coventry with the European Cathedral Singers in a special commemoration service. Meanwhile the bishop of Coventry Cathedral was in Dresden preaching there in a commemorative service of Peace.

In is world where so many wars rage all over the globe and refugees are living in dismal circumstances with hardly any hope of a better life in safety and peace, praying for peace is more necessary than ever.

See also my blogpost “Coventry” of February 2015

Sunday, 1 March 2020

February 29th 2020

A strange day, which is only part of our lives and our calendar once every four years. It is like being in no man’s land, in limbo, squashed between February and March, living this obscure day. Although nobody notices, except people born on that particular day, who can at last really celebrate their birthday on the day itself and don’t have to skip over it. If anything, this odd day in more sense than one, proves that we have not really succeeded in getting to grips with time, I think. Throughout the ages there have been many different ways of calculating and organizing time, of making calendars, but none of them were ideal as far as I know. And in spite of all our technical and scientific progress and academic knowledge, we are still left with this strange day, a gap into which we put all the spare minutes which we have collected during the previous four years. We make strict schedules, divide time into days, months, years, try to tame time, only to notice after four years that there is some time left! What do we do? Well, we smuggle an extra day in at the end of an already short month so that nobody may notice. Although we need food for this day as well, most people won’t get paid for this extra day of work, except for those who are paid daily, or by the hour, and in this part of the world not many people are. My window cleaner is paid each day after he has done his job, a jack-of-all-trade doing odd jobs is paid by the hour, but most people won’t benefit at all.

How did I use this “extra” day? I went to see an exhibition in a nearby town, Breitner versus Israel, comparing the works of two famous painters, Isaac Israels (1865-1934) and George Hendrik Breitner (1857-1923). They were friends and rivals and painted mostly in The Hague and Amsterdam. Many of their paintings are well-known, and I must admit when seeing a painting and guessing which of the two painted it, I am often wrong. I love their paintings, as I do those of several others of the “Haagse School” (Jacob Maris, Mesdag, Anton Mauve). Jozef Israels, the father of Isaac, was a famous painter too and belonged to this group. Isaac Israels, Jozef’s son, and Breitner later became the main painters of “Amsterdam Impressionism”, an art movement in late 19^th-century Holland

I thoroughly enjoyed the paintings. My smartphone was a great help as many museums nowadays offer tours and extra information via an app, information which can be saved to be reread and consulted later.

I find it hard to choose one picture which impressed me most, although I had promised myself just to choose one, and one only. But I can’t! They are all so different, using different techniques. Many are very well-known, but I can’t resist showing you some I particularly liked, hoping you will too.

The Keizersgracht in Amsterdam and the corner of the Reguliersgracht, painted by Breitner around 1895

What struck me as a keen but amateur photographer, was the light on the two gabled corner houses, and the beautiful reflections in the canal(s). It has a poetic quality, and is so much more than just a picture. It would be lovely to step into this painting and walk along the canals, not spoilt nor polluted yet by cars and traffic.