Monday 12 September 2016

Bella Italia!


Hello dear friends!  I'm back, and what an amazing holiday it was.  When I die, I want to go to Italy.

Painting in Italy is a company that arranges high-end painting holidays in, well, Italy.  The hotels they chose are absolutely amazing, and La Ghirlanda was no exception.  It's a former shooting lodge in the heart of Umbria, owned by the Count of Benedettoni Pongelli (that almost certainly is misspelled).   It's one of the very best hotels I've ever stayed at, and I've stayed in some mighty good ones.  The setting was heartstoppingly beautiful, and the food was to die for.  And the service was terrific: unobtrusive, attentive, and highly professional.

Here's the view from the terrace.  There was a swimming pool beneath.


Here's a view from the terrace where we had dinner in the evenings;



 Another view from the terrace.

Very imperfectly rendered by me in charcoal!

We would paint all morning, and then on occasion visit neighbouring villages in the afternoon.  Our tutor, Fiona Graham-Mackay, was utterly brilliant.  She is an incredibly distinguished painter: she's done portraits of Prince Michael of Kent, and (for me far more impressive) of the poets Seamus Heaney and Lemn Sissay.  She gave a wonderful talk about her interactions with the last two while she was painting them--I was spellbound.  She is an outstanding tutor: always there to provide encouragement to stretch out boundaries, always professional and kind.  I very much hope that we keep in touch.
Here she is with one of my colleagues, now friends.  Neville is a physicist who lives in Belfast.





And here are Pat and Mike, a retired accountant from Newcastle.  All of my colleagues were absolutely lovely, and so incredibly helpful with painting advice, helping me put up my easel, and that sort of thing Pat was doing cooking lessons with the Contessa, and had some wonderful stories to tell.  Another colleague was Jill, who's worked in banking. This sort of holiday attracts such interesting people...I love my poets and artist: they really are my tribe.

One afternoon we went to Todi, a beautiful village across the valley, and I burned a candle for those I've loved and lost, for Jonathan and for my family members.



And then we all went for ice-cream!  It was on the square, and right in front was a barber shop.  People-watching is the very best thing ever.



Here's lovely Fiona with a visiting dog, whom we learned later is called Francesco.  He was a sweetie: friendly, raffish, and not at all intrusive.


We also visited a vineyard in Montefalco! This was arranged by Sheila, who runs Painting in Italy.  She and I had talked about my vineyard, and originally I was the only one going, but then my friends said they'd like to come to. So they did, and it was great.  The owner, Albertino, was young and charming, and it was great to talk to him about the advantages of double or single Guyot pruning.  The vineyard was utterly beautiful, all golden lushness: in tones of green and gold and purple.




We almost always ate in the hotel, where the food was utterly divine (I am now on a VERY SEVERE diet! Desperate measures are called for.)  But in Montefalco we were taken to a restaurant. There's a lot of Fat Duckery about, in Italy as well as here.  I find that in establishments of this type, performance takes precedence over the enjoyment of diners, with constant tedious riffs about what we were about to eat.   The (rather officious and pompous) waiter recommended one of the day's specials, which was...meatloaf, with ginger and lemon sauce.  So a few of us thought that might be fun, and this is what appeared:



I have never photographed my food, but they say there's a first time for everything, so I did.  I'm afraid we dissolved into helpless shrieks of laughter...May the Lord preserve me from ironic postmodern restaurants.  The staff were not best pleased, since the whole restaurant was weeping in laugher...and indeed it must be frustrating to have your offering greeted with widespread
derision, but hey: they had it coming.  I wondered at one point if this was a culinary metaphor giving the Finger to clients...  At least there weren't little carrot balls at the base!

We then returned to the hotel to this view from the terrace:




 And here's an interior view.

On Friday evening, after dinner, we walked in to the village, where a jazz concert was taking place in the small central piazza.  Saragano is built in golden stone, and fortunately wasn't affected by the recent earthquake in Umbria, though throughout the region there were many cancellations.  The air was balmy, and the vibe--and the combo--was good.  So we all danced in the moonlight (of course I kicked off my shoes).  And then--the Devil made me do it--I went up to the keyboard player and asked if I could sing a number with him.  When I was Head of English at Glasgow, when colleagues (charming though they were and are) were driving me nuts, one of the ways I dealt with it was by having jazz singing lessons.  I think initially the keyboard player thought, Oh God, but then he asked me which key, and I smiled and said, 'Key of A.' I think that reassured him that maybe I'd done this a time or two before.  And then I sang 'Summertime,' a tune which I absolutely love.  People danced! Brits, Italian, everyone, and it was slow and smoochy.  At the end I  I got a rousing round of applause, and my friends and I went on to dance until the wee hours.  Magical, and a night I shall never forget.

The following day, Saturday, we'd been invited to sketch in the gardens of the tower where the Count and Contessa live (they were away).   Here's the place I found to draw.



And here's a view of the tower.


And here is a very majestic ginger tom.  I think there will have to be a poem titled 'Gatto Italiano.'
Perhaps Leo, my neighbours' gorgeous cat, has been reincarnated in Italy as a Count's Cat.


And here I am the Morning After.



I'll leave you with a pastel I did of the view from the terrace.
What an utterly fantastic holiday...I miss Saragano.  But it's good to be back.

Have a lovely week, dear friends.  I may post more images of my Immortal Art over the coming days!

love, Susan xx

Monday 25 July 2016

WEDDING!!!!!!!!!


Hello dear friends!  It's been absolutely WONDERFUL.  Above is an image of Crissie and Liam on the Big Day, taken by Brook Rose, the official photographer.  I am sooooooo weary that I am barely capable of coherent thought, so please forgive any incoherences or infelicities.  As you can imagine, it's been beyond intense.

On Tuesday of last week, my sister Sallye arrived from North Carolina.  It was fabulous to see her.  We had some time to hang out, and then on Wednesday the family arrived: Crissie, Liam, the girls, and his parents, in preparation for the civil wedding at Hastings.  Also on Wednesday, the tepee guys came and suddenly this vision arose in the paddock:


On Thursday was the civil ceremony in Hastings, on the coast.  It was a lovely warm day.  Here John and Pat, Liam's parents, are in their glad rags. They looked very elegant!



And here I am in front of the house.


So we all set off to Hastings.  There, we waited in the Civil Register.  Here are Sallye and lovely Carla.


We were then ushered into a very nice room, with sofas rather than rows of chairs. It was lovely.  Crissie made an entrance on the arm of her dad Federico.


And here he prepares to hand her over to Liam.

Both she and Liam's faces were lit up with happiness.


So the deed was done.  The ceremony was lovely, and I'd been asked to read an excerpt from a poem by Pablo Neruda.  I thought this would be a piece of cake..until it was time to do it, and tears began to stream  down my face.  I managed to read the poem without doing the Full Gwyneth Paltrow, but it was a closely run thing.  Here's Crissie flashing her ring:


So my daughter is now, officially, an Honest Woman at last.  We then all went on the miniature railway to the restaurant, which was on the seafront, for the wedding lunch.  Here's Carla with Isabella:



And of course we had to lark around and do silly things.

So it was great.  So often Register Office weddings can be cold and clinical.  This one was warm, and absolutely full of love.  When the Registrar asked if any of those present knew of any impediment to the marriage, my son Paul cleared his throat loudly, and we all burst out laughing...he loves to tease his sister.  But the knot was tied in style.

The following day was spent preparing the interior of the tepees.  Crissie and Liam had planned everything down to a T: favours (a seed back, featuring a stamp by Cristina), place cards, table runners, and flowers. The flowers were grown by my neighbour the wonderful Chris Siggs and they were BEAUTIFUL:  English summer flowers.  And of course we were checking weather apps constantly to see what the weather might do.  In retrospect: it was probably certifiably insane to organise an event for 140 grownups and 44 children in the English countryside, given the uncertainties of our climate: June was really rainy and cold.  I tried to maintain a calm facade and radiate maternal reassurance to Cristina, but on the inside it was Munch's Silent Scream.  Still, as I told her, even if it pours, we'll be under canvas.  But my window cleaner David suggested a website the window cleaners all use; they need to know what the weather will be like.  It uses things like the movements of birds and the development of plants, and is very very accurate!  It forecast sun.  (seems we're going to have 3 weeks of summer at the end of July/first week of August, and that will be it.)  I also (time out for an eye-roll) contacted a friend who's into Peruvian shamanism.  She got her mojo working...and the Big Day dawned without a cloud in the sky.

First, Crissie and her Aunt Sallye went to the hairdresser, while the rest of us ran around like headless chickens.  Then the bridesmaids arrived.  Here's Crissie with her childhood friends Joana and Mafalda, from Portugal, up in my room getting dressed.




The bride flashes some leg!

And the guests began to arrive.  They'd come from all over the world:  England (with a large contingent of Liam's Somerset friends and family); the US; Spain (my Spanish sister-in-law Carmita, her daughter Rocio, Rocio's twin babies, and my GORGEOUS godson Felix and milk son (whom I breastfed when he was a baby) Daniel had arrived the night before. The Siggses put them up.  What I would do without my Siggses I do not know: they, for me, are family.  But I digress from the roll call of countries: there were also people from Portugal, France, Germany, Canada, and Guatemala.  Here's a shot...lawn chairs had been put out. 


We then gathered under the big oak for the ceremony.  I didn't take photographs, because I was too occupied in trying to hold it together and not blub.  (When I have the official ones I'll post a few here) . But it was absolutely perfect.  The officiant was the wonderful Cliff Hopkins, who was (and is) Liam's literary mentor, and is (among many other things) a tutor in the Gotham Writers group that Liam was part of in Manhattan.  There were Beatles songs (I Want to Hold Your Hand) and recitals of poems from people interspersed among the guests.  One that was read was the last one in my book Abiding Chemistry, about counting the stars with my granddaughter Isabella.  I had a HUGE lump in my throat: after Jonathan died, I was unable to write poetry for months.  But I read somewhere that the stars are holes in the sky through which those we love look down on us to make sure we're all right, and that prompted the poem.  Tears were VERY narrowly averted; I felt his presence so strongly at my side.  Cliff spoke briefly of the international character of the gathering, of the friendship and love that were in the air at an event in the English countryside at a time when there is so much violence and instability in the world.  He was eloquent and had the most wonderful gravitas.  Perfect. The couple made their vows, which they'd written, some taken from the traditional ones, some of their own, and again what brought a lump to my throat was the 'till death us do part' lines.  I tried with all my might to cast a spell around Cristina and Liam to protect them and give them many, many years of happiness and love.  And then the bride and groom ran through a rain of confetti, made with petals from our own dried Bivelham roses,

We all then adjourned for champagne, tea and sandwiches.  There were lawn games, and a battalion of nannies captained by Crissie and Liam's brilliant nanny Kira took charge of the little ones; there was a children's tent full of toys.

Here's a few of the interior of the tepees, and a GREAT shot (if I do say so myself) of my sis.


And here we are.  There aren't many at all of me because I was behind the camera.

A view of my house from inside the tepees...

Crissie and Liam meeting and greeting...

And here are my darling children. I love them so much.
 A shot of the kids' tents.  There were also guests who camped in one of Tim's fields; some of their tents are in the background. We had bales of hay as sofas, again, courtesy of the Siggses.

The tables were adorned with Chris's flowers.


There was a delicious buffet with paella in honour of the bride's Spanish heritage and many other yummy things. The yummiest of all was the wedding cake, cooked by Liam's mum Pat. It was truly a work of art.  Here she is, giving it the final touches with the aid of Liam's brother Craig:
:

And there were speeches: one by me from the Family of the Bride; a toast by Federico as Father of the Bride; one by Liam, which was WONDERFUL.  He'd warned me that there was a very loving eference to Jonathan, and I managed to hold it together, just.  And then a FABULOUS speech by Liam's Best Man Jethro Skinner.  Here's a shot of Mariana with her grandfather Federico, who stayed with Paul and Carla in London along with cousin Felix, not to be confused with my godson, also Felix.



After all this there was dancing.  Here's a pic of the couple's first dance:




 Of course Yours Truly was there under the glitter ball (there really was one) until around 2 a.m.  I really ought to have more sense.

On Sunday, for the campers who were still around,  there was a sack race.  Liam won! and Isabella came in third



The campers were great. They helped us with the cleanup, and Liam, his dad, and I made a trip to the municipal tip to dispose of bottles (of which there were an alarming number!) and rubbish of all sorts.

Now, the bride and groom are off to Venice.  Isabella and Mariana are hanging out with their grandparents Pat and John in Tunbridge Wells, and Sallye left shortly after lunch today.  It is fair to say that I am more tired than I ever remember being... I'm running on empty just now.  But oh how perfect it was, from beginning to end.  Crissie and Liam have amazing friends...it really was (rather like the reunion of my poetry friends in Stratford) a vision of lovely vibrant intelligent people coming together in celebration of love and friendship, a beautiful image amid the jagged burning edges of today's world of what the world could be.

Yesterday Mariana and I took flowers up to Jonathan's grave.  How I love it that my children and grandchildren love his memory, and how I love it that he still is and always be part of our family.  God how I miss him.  Still, how lovely that he was close at hand, in the bright sunshine.


Off to collapse.  Take care, dear friends, and have a great week.  love, Susan xx