Saturday, December 1 2018

04:00 I wake up early and find out that Lois is not in the bed. Sometimes, when she finds it hard to get to sleep, she crawls into Sarah's old room and hops into Sarah's old bed: she usually lies there in the bed, turns on the light and starts reading a book and within a few minutes she is sleeping like a baby, guaranteed!

08:00 I jump into Sarah's old bed with Lois and we drink our morning tea. We take a shower and dress up nicely because we have been invited to the Christmas party, which Lois' sect has organised at Gupshill Manor, a pub restaurant just outside the town of Tewkesbury.

Gupshill Manor pub-restaurant, Tewkesbury

I'm a bit of a loner, I have to admit, and I don't look forward to taking part in these kinds of get-togethers. My plan is to stay zen and stick close to Lois like glue, so nobody can force me into a corner and talk about religion, which is something I can do without, to be honest!

10:00 Our neighbour Stephen calls at the door. He and Frances are going away tomorrow - they will spend 2 nights with their daughter Elizabeth in Eastbourne, and then fly from nearby Gatwick airport to Vienna to spend 4 nights over there to look around the city and especially visit the famous Brueghel exhibition. They have asked us to look after their house in their absence.

Brueghel in Vienna - how nice! I think everyone in the village is fed up with looking at the mediocre paintings in our local art gallery, so it will be nice for Stephen and Francis to see the works of a true painter like Brueghel for once, rather than the exhibition by local painter James Augustiniak, for example, which was so heavily criticised recently in the local press (source: Onion News).

James Augustiniak, the village's local mediocre painter 

According to recent reviews by art critics, local mediocre painter James Augustiniak has proved to be a bit of an expert in cultivating the self-centred, skirt-chasing demeanour of a true enfant terrible of the local art scene. 

"Augustiniak's latest exhibition, with its dozens of paintings of melting eyeballs and hearts, was a staggering achievement in cliché'd, pseudo-pretentious banality," said local art critic Christopher Knight. "But I went anyway just to see him throw a fit over the lighting in the gallery. He's very good at that kind of thing." 

What madness !!!

10:30 We talk to Stephen a little about the local doctors' plans to have their current clinic demolished and then sell the land with planning permission for building 6 new houses. One of the 6 new houses has been planned to be only 6 feet away from the wall of Stephen's house - simply crazy !!!!

Stephen and Frances have sent a 2nd protest letter to the municipal planning officer, with very detailed arguments, based on a lot of research into legal requirements, etc. They claim that the area concerned is simply not large enough for 6 houses, plus access road and sidewalk, especially in view of the current legal requirements for disability access, etc.

Later in the day, Lois and I print out their protest letter - it's very impressive, to put it mildly. They have really thrown the book at the doctors and their plans. Tomorrow, Lois and I will have to think about how we can best support Stephen's arguments in our own protest letter. The deadline is Monday, but you can submit letters online, so it will not be too late.

12:00 We head over to Gupshill Manor restaurant and sit down in the bar. I have decided not to drink alcohol today - when I'm nervous I tend to drink too much just to have something to do with my hands, rather than to enjoy it, which is a little stupid to put it mildly. I order a pint of "henry" - a local beverage, a mixture of orange juice and lemon juice, and I manage to make it last all afternoon, which is nice.

They are all very nice people, but they tend to talk and laugh really loudly, which from time to time gives me a headache, which is a bit of a shame. And, for the most part, I have nothing in common with them to be perfectly honest.

But it could have been much worse, I have to admit. And the food was delicious - Lois and I were lucky for once in that we chose the lamb (which "fell off the bone"), rather than the turkey - everybody says the turkey was lousy ha ha!

16:00 We come home and I take a quick nap. Then we have a light snack and spend the evening listening to the radio, an interesting program all about the famous humorist Alan Coren (1938-2007) who was the editor of "Punch", the humorous magazine, for many years, and appeared on many fun radio and television shows.

His advice for writing humorous articles on a given subject was: to think of three possible approaches. Throw away the first one you thought of (it's bound to be predictable), throw the second one away (it will be the kind of thing brilliant people would think of) and then use the third one. The most important thing was to write something unpredictable, he thought.

Alan Coren, the famous humorist

Tonight we hear a lot of Alan's funny anecdotes, which is nice.

Also, we hear a lot of true stories that Alan remembers reading in the newspapers: for example one about a German soldier caught by the British at the battle of El-Alamein in North Africa, who was taken to England as a prisoner of war at the end of 1942. He was asked to work on the roads and other tasks for the local council, such as gardening in the municipal gardens and parks etc. 

All the locals loved him, he helped children and old ladies cross the road, and that kind of thing.

After the end of the war, he was waiting to be repatriated to Germany at the end of 1945. The local mayor was so grateful for the man's hard work on the city's public gardens and parks, and on the floral clock in front of the town hall, that he held a special Christmas lunch in his honour, and in recognition of his floral clock, he gave him a bracket clock to take back with him home to Germany.

All that was in November 1945. In February 1946 the crocuses in front of the Town Hall began to bloom, and they spelled out the words "Heil Hitler", which didn't please local residents to put it mildly!

Local newspapers are always the best sources for good stories I always think.

22:00 We go to bed. I read about 10 pages of my bedside book before I drift off to sleep - zzzzzz !!!

Danish translation

04:00 Jeg vågner tidligt op og opdager, at Lois ikke ligger ind i sengen. Nogle gange, nå hun har svært ved at falde i søvn kryber hun ind i vores datter Sarahs gamle værelse og hopper op i Sarahs gamle seng: hun plejer at ligger inde i sengen, tænde lyset og begynde at læse en bog, og indenfor et par minutter sover hun som en baby, med garanti!

08:00 Jeg hopper op i Sarahs gamle seng til Lois og vi drikker vores morgenté.  Vi tager et brusebad og klæder  os pænt på, fordi vi er blevet inviteret til julefrokosten, Lois’ sekt har organiseret på Gupshill Manor, en pub-restaurant lige udenfor byen Tewkesbury.

Gupshill Manor pub-restaurant, Tewkesbury

Jeg er lidt af en enspænder, det må jeg indrømme, og jeg glæder mig ikke ret meget til at deltage i de slags sammenkomster. Min plan er at blive zen og klistre mig fast til Lois som en igle, så ingen kan tvinge mig ind i et hjørne og tale om religion, hvilket jeg godt kan klare mig uden!

10:00 Vores nabo Stephen ringer på døren. Han og Frances tager til af sted i morgen – de skal tilbringe 2 nætter hos deres datter Elizabeth i Eastbourne, og derefter flyver de fra den nærliggende Gatwick lufthavn til Wien for at tilbringe 4 nætter derovre for at se sig om i byen, og specielt besøge den berømte Brueghel-udstilling. Stephen og Francis har bedt os om at passe på deres hus i deres fravær.

Jeg synes, alle i landsbyen er ked af at se bare målmodige malerier i vores lokale kunstgalleri, så vil det være rart for Stephen og Francis at se værkerne af en ægte maler som Brueghel for en gangs skyld, snarere en endnu en udstilling af den lokal mand James Augustiniaks malerier, for eksempel, der for nylig blev kritiseret i den lokale presse (kilde: Onion News).

James Augustiniak, den lokale målmodige maler

Ifølge kunstkritikeres nylige kommentarer har den lokale middelmådige maler James Augustiniak vist sig at være lidt af en ekspert til at udvikle den selvcentreret, skørtejægende opførsel af en af kunstverdens enfants terribles. "Augustiniaks seneste udstilling, med dens snesevis af malerier af smeltende øjenkugler og hjerter, var en svimlende præstation i klichéagtig, pseudo-pretentiøs banalitet," sagde den lokale kunstkritiker Christopher Knight. "Men jeg besøgte alligevel udstillingen bare for at se ham få et raseriandfald over belysningen i galleriet. Han er meget dygtig til den slags ting." Sikke et vanvid!!!

10:30 Vi snakker lidt med Stephen om de lokale lægers planer om at få deres nuværende klinik nedrevet og sælge jorden med planlægningstilladelse til at bygge 6 nye huse. Et af de 6 nye huse er blevet planlagt at være kun 6 fods væk fra muren af Stephens hus – sikke et vanvid!!!!

Stephen og Frances har sendt en 2. protestbrev til kommunens planlægningsembedsmand, med meget detaljerede argumenter, baserede på en masse forskning i juridiske krav osv. De påstår, at det pågældende område simpelthen ikke er stor nok for 6 huse, plus adgangsvej og fortov, specielt i betragtning af de nuværende juridiske krav om handicappet adgang osv.

Senere på dagen printer Lois og jeg deres protestbrev ud – det er meget imponerende, for at sige mildt. De har skældt lægerne og deres planer huden fuld. I morgen skal Lois og jeg tænker på, hvordan vi bedste støtter Stephens argumenter i vores eget protestbrev. Fristen er mandag, men man kan indsende breve online, så vil det ikke være for sent.

12:00 Vi kører over til Gupshill Manor-restauranten og sætter os på baren. Jeg har besluttet ikke at drikke alkohol i dag – jeg har tendens, når jeg er nervøs, at drikke for meget, bare for at have noget at gøre med hænderne, snarere end, at jeg får fornøjelse af det, hvilket er lidt dumt, for at sige mildt. Jeg bestiller en pint ”henry” – en lokal drik, en blanding af appelsinsaft og citromsaft, og det lykkes mig at gøre den til at vare hele eftermiddagen, hvilket er rart.

De er alle meget søde mennesker, men de har tendens til at tale og le meget højlydt, hvilket fra tid til anden giver mig en hovedpine, hvilket er lidt af en skam. Og jeg har for det meste intet fælles med dem ærligt talt.  

Men det kunne have været meget værre, det må jeg indrømme. Og maden var lækker – Lois og jeg var for en gangs skyld heldige i at vi valgte lammet (som ”faldt af knoglen”),  snarere end kalkunen – alle siger, at kalkunen var elendig ha ha!

Vi spiser en let snack og bruger aftenen på at lytte til radio, et interessant program, der handler om den berømte humorist, Alan Coren (1938-2007), der var i mange år redaktør til ”Punch”, det humoristiske magasin, og optrådte i mange morsomme radio- og tv-programmer.

Hans råd til at skrive morsomme artikler på et givent emne var: find på tre tilgange. Smid den første væk (det må være forudsigeligt), smid den anden væk (det må være den slags ting, brilliante personer ville finde på), og brug den tredje. Det vigtigste er at skrive noget uforudsigeligt, mente han.

Alan Coren, den berømte humorist

I aften hører vi en masse af Alans morsomme anekdoter, hvilket er rart.

Også vi høre en masse sandfærdige historier, som Alan mindes om at have læst i aviserne: for eksempel en tysk soldat, der blev taget til fange af briterne i slaget ved El-Alamein i Nord-Afrika, og taget til England som krigsfange ved slutningen af 1942. Han blev bedt om at arbejde på vejene og andre af den lokale kommunes opgaver, som for eksempl havearbejde i kommunens haver og parker. Alle de lokale indbyggere elskede ham, han hjalp børn og gamle damer med at krydse vejen osv.

Efter endt krig ventede han på at blive repatrieret til Tyskland ved slutning af 1945. Den lokale borgmester var så takknemmelig for mandens hårdt arbejde på byens offentlige haver og parker, og på det blomstrede ur foran rådhuset, at han holdt en speciel julefrokost til ære for ham, og som anerkendelse for hans blomstrede ur, forærede han ham en bracket clock, at tage tilbage med hjem til Tyskland.

Alt det der var i november 1945. I februar 1946 begyndte krokusserne foran rådhuset at blomstre, og de stavede ”Heil Hitler”.

22:00 Vi går i seng. Jeg læser omkring 10 sider af min sengetidbog, før jeg glider over i søvnen – zzzzzz!!!