A Story of a long time ago

Into this story I have put some interactive decision points. At each of them, decide what you might have done.

There were three little boys, called Iain, Al and Mom. They lived in a very windswept island, where it constantly rained and where the relentless Atlantic winds roared in most nights. But they were happy, knowing that they had two parents to protect them.

One night the parents had a couple of visitors. The little Al and Mom were sent off to bed; but the 10-yr-old Iain was allowed to stay up. Outside the wind howled; but inside the peat and the coal burned in the hearth. The visitors eventually said they had to go. Father offered to drive them home. He was a slightly uncertain driver, as are many of us in practising skills only acquired in our mid-50s (I cannot believe I have said this, but I have).

Mother said “I will go with you, John. The little Iain can lock the house behind us and he will know that only when he hears three short knocks on the door should he open it.”

Was she right in this decision?

Hard to know: to supervise a pretty incompetent 50-yr-old driving husband or to supervise a 10-yr-old carer in charge of an 8-yr-old and a 6-yr-old? Tough choice. She certainly broke the UK law, even then, about child supervision.

So back to my story. It was almost midnight. The somewhat pompous 10-yr-old Iain was sitting by the fire, nursing a Pinot Grigio (or a glass of milk); and musing on how life had now begun to give him the managerial roles that his skills so richly deserved. The winds were dying down, but the fire was still glowing. In the room there was a piano. And as he contemplated this world of which had just taken charge, the piano began to play. Mostly in arpeggios.

What would you have done?

Today I would have been terrified. But the super-confident 10-yr-old went up to the piano.

The piano went on playing; and the piano keys, with no player, were visibly going up and down.  Iain was puzzled. Eventually they stopped. There was little scurry of feet at the back of the piano. And a small mouse hared across the room.

10 minutes later, there are three knocks at the door; and Iain let his parents into the house. “How did you get on, Iain?”. “Fine- apart from the piano playing.”

How would you as a parent have responded?

I would have been agitated at having 10-yr-old capable of being so over-imaginative.

But instead my mother poured me another glass of Pinot Grigio or possibly milk; and my father set a mousetrap in the room. They made a cup of tea. And within 5 minutes the poor mouse was captured in the trap.

Moral of this story: that is for you, not me. But the 10/20/30/40/50/60-yr-old Iain has since never believed in ghost stories.

Brazil

A few days away from home

8 Nov

An ordinary day. 9.00 a.m. train from Lewes to Gatwick, drop my case with Air Portugal and breakfast off oysters and Sancerre at Gatwick.. Then get the three-hour flight from Gatwick to Lisbon; spend an hour there and get on the big Airbus 330 for Recife. 8 hours over the Atlantic and across the equator takes me into North-East Brazil

At Recife it is still late evening (having gained 3 hours by flying west) and a pleasant 25 degrees.

There are Ana, Gaby and Rafa to greet me (Joan, Ken and Oh have flown in earlier from Sao Paulo and are already at our hotel)

                                                                                                                              

Ana I met almost 20 years ago when she came as a graduate student at the then Jordanhill College.       

Three years later she returned in 1995 to do an M.Sc. degree at Strathclyde – with her then 11-yr-old daughter, Gaby. In 2002 Gaby came across to Glasgow for a gap term between school and university; and stayed with Joan and me for some three months. Now she is 27, about to marry Rafa. And so she has invited her “Scottish mother and father” to her wedding. A very romantic story. Of friendships that lasted over the divide of years and over the divide of oceans

9 Nov

The hotel looks good. Especially outside

There are local fruits for breakfast: pineapple and passion fruit; scrambled eggs and coffee – in a delightful outdoor restaurant. Then we have a largely leisurely day by the pool under a hot tropical sun.

In the evening we take a taxi from Olinda into the twin (and adjoining) city of Recife; where Ana is hosting a party for us. Up to the 14^th floor of a modern apartment in Pedro (or Pedrinho´s) place. Pedrinho was in Glasgow (and indeed Mull) for some time in 2002. We meet him (and his wife Renata); and Rafa (the bridegroom-to-be) and Antoine and Juliet (two French friends of Rafa´s, whom he met while doing an exchange year at a Spanish university): it is their first visit to Brazil. Then there is Castanha (Ana´s ex-husband) who was in the frozen Glasgow of Dec 2005/Jan 2006 and loved the -20 degree temperature. There is plenty beer, red wine, local music and some very good fish courses. A very pleasant evening with many reminiscences of times past in Glasgow in 1992, 1995 and 2002; and of Joan and I being here in Brazil in 1993, 1994 and 1995.

Next day we get an email; and photos ´ Just a few photos from our lovely dinner last night... we had a great time!
Thank you all for coming, we were very pleased and happy of having you at our home!!!´´

10 and 11 Nov

We go out for lunch in a very scenic restaurant in Olinda, perched on the top of a hilltop. Stewed goat is exceptionally good. Then for a boat ride in the centre of Recife, a city built on and around five islands. A highlight is a river exhibition from one of Brazil´s leading sculptors (Brennen?).

In the evening Gaby and Rafa take us to a very high class charcuterie: very typical of Brazil. Grilled beef, sliced off the joint at the table, is the highpoint for me.

Friday is initially a quiet day by the pool. Then we migrate on our own to a very old-fashioned and excellent restaurant in the centre of the city. Many of the customers wear ties: but all the waiters do. A couple of hours to relax; then dinner is in a local French restaurant, after we have spent an hour touring a local literary festival. The samba drums are beating through the night as we head to bed.

12 Nov 2011

We head towards the wedding at 7.15 in the evening, Ken and I in full Highland dress, our partners´ dress only marginally less restrained. We assemble outside a very attractive and old-fashioned Catholic church. There we meet and re-meet various people, not least Pedro (Ana´s brother), whom I last met in 1994. It is pleasantly warm after the intense heat of the day (one of the reasons for evening weddings).

The ceremony is billed for 8.00 p.m. but it is approaching 9.00 before we are ushered into the church (where there are reserved seats for us); and then there is a ceremony of entry for the bride and bridegroom´s close family (18 pairs of supporters process in all) before, first of all, Rafa is escorted in by his father and then Gabi by Castanha. The church is decked out with flowers and there is small orchestra in the organ loft.

At the end of the ceremont the bride and groom pose in front of the altar for the official wedding photographs: with the four parents; with grannies; with siblings; with aunts, cousins etc; and then with “the Scottish family”.

We get to the reception (in a magnificent function hall, converted from a factory) about 11 p.m. There is a table reserved for the ´Scottish family´ and Ana joins us (as varyingly do others in the course of the evening) Waiters circulate unendingly with trays of 1. champagne; 2. Johnny Walker Red Label and glasses with ice; 3. Bohemia beer; 4. soft drinks; and 5. water. (This service goes on, free and uninterrupted, all night). There are also waiters with trays of various canapés; and a buffet table with more substantial starters:  carpaccio of ham carved off the bone; various cheeses; and salads.

A band strikes up, the first of three different bands; Rafa , the bridegroom , leads off with a samba song he has composed for Gaby; people are up instantly dancing, and dancing continues all night.

The night is a riot (but a perfectly amiable riot) of music (1970s rock and samba), food and drink. And outside (where the lawns and the elegant walls are illuminated with attractive lighting) there are plenty of conversations and of photographs.

A local asks me ´Where are you from?´

´Scotland´say I.

´Where in Scotland?`says he.

´Glasgow ´say I.

´Rangers and Celtic?´

Ýes.

´Which do you support?´, says he.

´Rangers´

Oh, a blue nose.´ says he.

We head home at 4..00 a.m. The party went on until after 6 a.m.

 

15^th Nov

Yesterday , Joan (and Oh and Ken) headed out of Recife about 1p.m. (en route to Sao Paulo, Barcelona, London and Glasgow – for two of them). I stay in Recife for a further 12 hours. I have a delightful time with Castanha, Anita and Ana (and  with Castanha and Anita’s two criancos). Castanho and Anita deposit Ana and I in Boa Viagem in the early evening and Ana and I discuss the politics and the environment of Brazil over a few chilled beers. Gaby and Rafa (more or less en route to their honeymoon start in Bogota) drop by in the pavement café to say goodbye to me.

Off to the delights of Recife airport (beautiful place) and Ana and I have a few more beers.

A midnight take-off on an uncrowded Airbus 330 (having cunningly checked myself in online at Castanha’s house into the rear of the aircraft, I have lots of room). Seven hours overnight to Lisboa. A morning in Lisbon airport; and then three hours to Heathrow.

Meet my brother Alasdair and he has charmingly booked dinner for the two of us with a very young Lewis friend of ours (whom I first met when she was four, and when I was already middle-aged). She (fluent in Gaelic – but not always so competent in English) tells me that she loves my “jottings”. We have together a delightful evening.

16^th Nov

Walk in the morning in the Barbican site; and then head out to Gatwick. Meanwhile Joan, having dined at night in Barcelona, has flown on and is already in Heathrow. It took them some 18 hours to get from Recife to Barcelona compared with my 7 hours from Recife to Lisbon.

By some miracle, Joan and I rendezvous in Glasgow airport, landing there within 10 minutes of each other.

Back at home, a squawking cat is delighted to see us: “Brush me” Tonya says, “Where have you guys been?”

Tomorrow, Tonya, we will tell you about our adventures. How two decades of friendship with a Brazilian family led us two people on this delightful odyssey – from the northern hemisphere of Europe to the southern hemisphere of South America. And how much we enjoyed ourselves.

I think you will like the story, Tonya: you appreciate love and friendship.

 

It was all pretty wonderful.

Iain