Post the Eighth

The strange case of the adjusted storyline... 

It´s bell ringing time again as I count out 7 rings and a few tinkles. Must be a seasonal addition, I think to myself.  The lone bell puller got bored and decided to add a yuletide flourish of their very own. 

I am a certified addict.  I must confess it, I am hooked on Sherlock Holmes stories. I devour them in all forms, the books, audio versions, plays and lately films and tv series. I marvel at Conan Doyle´s  invention of the two main iconic characters. And the stories themselves. Full of twists and turns, light and shade, they are little works of genius. 22b Baker Street has become a home from home.  

And for Christmas this year, I received from my daughters a gigantic box set of dvds , including all the episodes from the 1950s tv version screened in America. So, with the cat curled up on the sofa, we sat down to watch the very first episode...  ``The Case of the Cunningham Heritage`` 

Al´ls well as the first 10 minutes go by. Watson returns from the Afghan war, meets an old friend who puts him in touch with an acquaintance who, like Watson, is looking for reasonably priced rooms. So watson meets holmes and the scene is set as they decide to move together into 22b baker street. The characters are established , Watson the doctor and Holmes the eccentric violin playing ace deducer who knows a lot about crime , but does not know that the earth goes round the sun. 

But then, Doyle´s world and the tv realm start to slowly part company. There has been a murder and Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard is baffled. So, Holmes and  the good doctor take a hansom cab ( oh how I love the old handsom cabs...) to the scene and meet the lady of the house who is suspected of murdering her husband. Present are also the owner of the house and his brother, Ralph. From the get go, Ralph looks very shifty indeed. But Lestrade is convinced he has his man, or in this case, his woman. 

Holmes and Watson return to Baker Street and Holmes proposes that very night they should break into the house.  To investigate .  At this point I start to get little nervous. Why would he do that ? Seems a bit extreme. Watson goes along with this plan , and as night falls, off they go. Sherlock has a burgler´s set of keys. And in they go, through the front door. Credulity begins to seriously slip at this point, and the cat looks up and meows disbelievingly, 

They miraculously find their way to the drawing room and start rifling though the drawers looking for something. Anything . They are not sure what, but it must be incriminating. Suddenly in bursts the shifty brother,  Ralph, brandishing a pistol. `` I did it`` he explains before being disarmed by a surprisingly fit Watson ( forgetting that he had been wounded in Afghanistan) . And they have their man. Easy wasn´t it ? 

``Amazing deduction Holmes...``  ``I don´t know how you did it ``... says Watson as they return to 22b for breakfast ( well at least they got that right, there is nothing these two enjoy more than a hearty breakfast) . 

They seem to forget that the killer had confessed the whole thing !  

Later the newspapers report that Lestrade has taken the credit for solving the crime. Never mind says Holmes .  Admirable in his modesty , he doesn´t need to be recognised for his great deductive successes. 

I think I´ll go back to the books....... 

   

Post the Seventh

 

It is two days after my 64^th birthday. This past year, like the one preceding it, has been hard for everyone , not least because of the ongoing pandemic situation. We have been locked down, let out, and then locked down again. During a window of opportunity back in the summer, it was great to watch my two daughters travel, with my youngest daughter´s aunt and Godmother, on a short trip to Italy.

This Christmas appeared a book of wonderful photographs. A memento of their Great Escape. They are growing up. And fast.

Thinking back, and connecting more of my loose cables, I recall that Venice was the very first overseas destination I visited as a young architectural student. Onto the train at Waterloo, a sea sickness blighted voyage across the ocean, another train , and then at last to step off at Venice station into a dream-city under a blazing blue sky.

And not a smart phone or computer in sight.

This year Elena and Stella were there too.

My one wish for them is that their voyage of discovery may continue and that this world of opportunity and growth remains open to them and their peers, and not only to the privileged few.

And me ? I have opened a new file with the label ´last phase´. My life here in quiet Upper Austria may be in limbo, but things are cooking in my particular kitchen. Like all good things, Phase 2 has come to an end, and is transitioning into something new.

So where and what next ? . This year I received a clue from the most unexpected of sources. A seed was planted , a thought and a vision which resonates. To be amongst people looking for the same things, and asking the same questions. I know what makes me happy now, what I can offer the world, and with the kind of people I want to spend my remaining time.

Music, laughter, conversation . Friends.

JRC December 2021 

***happy christmas***

 After 3 years , I finally got to spend Christmas Eve ( the traditional time of gift giving here in Austria) with my 2 daughters and my ex- wife, without feeling sad. The girls opened their presents while my ex unwrapped gifts sent by her new love, who couldn´t be there.  

And in a way, so did I. 

We ate the traditional ``bratwurst und sauerkraut`` ,  played and sang.               ...Music and laughter . 

  

Post the Sixth

Its a cold December morning and the heating is on the blink again. Sitting here trying not to freeze, I am still surrounded by cables strewn around which need to be untangled and connected .  Memories and meanings. The stories of  a curious life . 

One wintery December from my early teen years was brightened somewhat by the news that my father had won a prize for being the most successful salesman that year. And what a prize ! A brand new stereo record player , Sinclair amplifier and Wharfdale speakers.  So, one snowy Saturday morning he and I set off to drive down to his colleague´s house, some considerable distance away , to pick it up. This journey really sticks in my mind . We didn´t often spend so much time together . I recall us diving down the motorway and then through small villages, deep in snow. It was quite magical, in its own way. 

On returning home I set up the system in our living room and the first disc on the new turntable was one of Dad´s ,  a stereo sampler record, which for some reason was lying around the house. It sounded amazing , as up to now i´de only heard my brother´s old ´Dansette´ style record player with its tiny speakers , and our rather crackly valve wireless. 

That year became lodged in my head as the Christmas of the stereo long playing record. And the first one to be unwrapped was a classic which i´de heard a year or so earlier at the house of  the daughter of my mother´s friend, Mrs G.

 It was ``Bridge over Troubled Water``, by Simon and Garfunkle. 

The week before Christmas...

 

Lovely rendition of a simply timeless song ..

Advent 2022

Sometimes, I have to look to Paddy for the right words..

From one of my all time favourite songwriters.