That’s not me in the picture. It’s “some guy”. But tomorrow I’ll look like this … my body twisted, my fingers flying. His eyes look closed, mine will be focused on the sheet music. But we will be brothers.

I was having coffee with Dirk this morning. Just sitting there calmly. Then … BAM! My face dropped and the tsunami rolled over me. “Tomorrow I’ll play passionately!” Just that. No thoughts of intonation, vibrato and all that quality stuff. Just throwing myself into the cello, the Oudburg and my friends.

***

A sort of expected complication: the arthritis in my right thumb is making it hard to hold the bow. Changing to the higher strings is difficult. Ha! So what? I play tomorrow at 5:00 pm.

I decided: if the digital weakness accumulates, I will keep going! I will not put the bow down and just pluck the strings. Damn the notes and the squeals! I’m here to play.

One more thing: this is a concert, not some watered down re-newbie effort.

Okay, now I’m thinking of the Scottish/Canadian singer-songwriter David Francey. In the song All Lights Burning Bright he talked about a freighter ship navigating a storm on Lake Erie, one of the Great Lakes shared by Canada and the USA. Here we go:

We entered Lake Erie
It was late in the day
You could see that storm coming
From a mile away

We had all lights burning bright
All lights burning bright
We had all lights burning bright
All lights burning bright

That storm overtook us
And it fell like the night
And the Point and the Island
They passed out of sight

But we sailed on rock steady
Set course through the storm
As the sky fell upon us
And the wind drove us on

And I thought to myself
I’d be just like this ship
If I kept my light burning
On every trip

The watch it was ended
With the turn of the night
And I wrote in that log book
All lights burning bright

We had all lights burning bright
All lights burning bright
We had all lights burning bright
All lights burning bright

***

Tomorrow I’ll be just like the ship

Patience is a virtue … and I’m getting lots of practice. For months, with two internet service providers, I’ve had excellent screen resolution on my TV during the day (1080p or higher) and poor resolution in the evening (maybe 480p).

Three weeks ago, my current company sent one of their best technicians to my home and he said the internet connection was perfect. The problem was my TV. He came during the day, when the picture was wondrously sharp.

The TV repair company sent a technician two weeks ago. He couldn’t find a parking space, so he left. On Monday another tech showed up. He did all the tests and said the TV was perfect.

Hmm … between a rock and a hard place.

Reps and techs from the TV and internet companies have told me they’ve never heard of my day/evening problem.

Then there was yesterday – so many hours of tapping my phone. There were two nice people on the other end of the chat, people who reset this and reset that, who did all the usual things to solve problems. But this is not a usual situation.

***

That’s enough of the sordid details. Now what?

Although I’m frustrated, letting the attitude of “Ain’t it awful?” rule my life for more than a few seconds doesn’t work.

I see myself as solution-oriented so I will continue to seek resource people who are willing to grapple with rare problems. One is the manager of the local internet service provider store. I see him tomorrow.

Why am I smiling? It just came upon me … like a tsunami. I’ll take it

***

On we go

I’m not the giving up type

I sat with a friend this morning in a coffee shop.  He had a faraway look in his eyes.  Eventually he pulled out some photos.

It was in 2001.  He sat holding hands with his sister.  He was 31, she 24.  Lovely smiles … tenderness.

Here’s a photo from the internet of a younger brother and sister, with the same sweet feeling:

Twenty-two years later, my friend and his sister barely talk.  She blames him for their troubles.  And she finally exited from an abusive relationship with her husband.

The hands are now far apart.  No cuddling on the couch.  Two solitudes.

The story, of course, is far from unique. There’s nothing wrong with “I think this, you think that”. But why does it so often lead to a weaponizing of the relationship? “You did this! You said that!”

So sad …

I wish my friend a reunion with his sister. He shakes his head. No possibility hangs in the air. The future is a fait accompli.

But it’s not.

***

May the fingers entwine once more

Two nights ago, at the Amy Winehouse tribute concert in Eastbourne, I was freezing. I definitely underdressed for the UK. So as she finished a song I headed to the snack bar for a cappuccino. When I moved to return to my seat, I made soft eye contact with a man. It was soft on his end too.

His face and body were grossly misshapen. The wheelchair was huge, just like him. The fellow’s face was swollen, creating a circle rather than an oval.

I sat down and felt the sadness. It must be a life far more complex than mine.

As “Amy” rolled through song after song, the gentleman by the snack bar kept returning to my mind. At the end of the concert I knew I wanted to talk to him, with no idea of what I wanted to say. I walked towards where he was sitting.

The man was gone. (Sigh)

***

This morning, back in Ghent, I sat in the waiting room of Solidaris, a company that provides health care for people in unusual situations – like me!

An electronic sign scrolled through messages and images. One really hit me … and then it was gone. But I knew it would come back.

After assuring a young woman sitting across from me that I was about to take a picture of the sign rather than her, I poised with my phone. And my time came:

Zorg and Meer is a health aid store, providing people with wheelchairs, walkers, canes and lots more. Look at those two dancing! What a symbol of “You and me”.

No doubt the fellow doesn’t have the energy of the woman but they were together in the dance.

***

We’re all so different from each other

And so the same

Let’s discover the human being at the next table

The singer playing Amy Winehouse last night wasn’t brilliant like Annie Lennox the night before but I had fun.  I sat beside a UK couple.  She was horrified that another traveller had recommended the Borough of Hackney when I visit London in ten days.  “Not there!  It’s dodgy.” 

And so the world goes ’round.  I don’t mind dodgy.

A fifteen-year-old girl on my other side gushed over the spirit of Brighton, a city of one million not far away.  “So many ______ restaurants!”  She used an adjective that was not understood and quickly lost but I got her meaning.

The coolest was that I danced, towards the end of the show.  My feet shimmied in a most youthful way.  Minutes later I was bent over for breath … but I survived nicely.

***

And then there was this morning.  A fascinating British couple shared my love of tennis, art and classical music.  They talked about the Musée Orsay in Paris, and the wonders therein.

He showed me a painting on his phone.  Here it is:

It’s Le Rêve created by Édouard Detaille in 1888 – a war scene at night.  The soldiers are sleeping and their rifles are propped up, waiting for the enemy.  But what’s that in the sky?  A battalion launching into the fight.  They were dreaming!  So cool.  And who knows what other miracles reside in Orsay?

***

I’m sitting in London’s St. Pancras Station, waiting for the train to Brussels. The fellow to my right is the nephew of Bernard Hinault, a five-time champion of the Tour de France. So I’m clearly connected to cycling royalty.

The woman to my left is from Ghent. I casually ask her if her name is Elise. Sadly she says “Nicki”. Oh well. After hearing my story she says “Never give up searching.”

I agree.

***

This journey still has four hours to go but my right index finger is getting tired. So I’m signing off from further written communication … until tomorrow.

Be well

Before Day Seven, there’s the rest of Day Six.  Last night I went to a tribute show at the Eastbourne Bandstand – Annie Lennox and the Eurythmics.

My God … that woman was Annie!  She belted out the hits, her trench coat flowing and her voice snarling.  Wish I’d got a closeup of her wide open face.  And just behind Annie, seagulls were riding the wind right to left.  It seemed like they knew the soaring parts of songs for their fly-bys.

I sat next to a couple from Iceland.  They knew Annie’s music and were up dancing for most of the evening, their faces full of glee.  I was on the dance floor for the last part and I saw him walking out of the venue at the end.

“That’s too bad.  I wanted to say goodbye.”

I sat on a bench outside, talking to Google Maps about my homeward journey. And here comes my Icelandic friend. He had been walking to the women’s washroom to find his wife … and then he went looking for me. Very cool.

***

Because of the rain yesterday, a men’s semi-final was postponed to this morning – on a court that was first come first served for us spectators. I arranged to be first come … and first row. Here’s a photo of Tommy Paul serving to Grégoire Barrère:

The cool thing about my seat is that I was in the line of fire for serves launched from the other end, often at 200 kph. This wasn’t the casual watching of a tennis match. I had to be constantly alert when the server was at the other end. Several times, I threw my hand in front of my face to avoid a missile. Happily each time the receiver got his racquet on the ball.

***

One of the food kiosks at the tennis centre was called “Goodwood Organic Foods”. I got to know five of the employees as they hustled the food out to guests. Today I showed them my favourite t-shirt. It looks like this:

“We all have tummies.”

These folks greeted me every day and I returned the favour. They enjoyed my humour. And I enjoyed them. I dearly hope that I’ll be talking to them next year – for I’ll be back.

***

I suppose a normal person wouldn’t go to the Eastbourne Bandstand two nights in a row, but I’m not feeling normal today. I’ll say hello to a version of Amy Winehouse for you.

Until tomorrow …

Here’s my Airbnb host Jean.  She took me to the Beach Deck this morning for breakfast.

Jean asked whether I’d like to sit inside or outside.  I heard myself say “inside”.  Immediately I saw the disappointment on her face, and I changed my mind.

As we looked over the menu, I attempted to comprehend this brain of mine.  “Inside”?  What’s with that?  I think l’ve been dulled by so many hours in the sun.  Traces of “not Bruce” had crept in.  Bruce needs the seaside, unobstructed by walls.

***

In the middle of the day, I was scheduled to be the Zoom host for an Evolutionary Collective meeting.  For weeks, I knew today’s responsibility was coming.  I signed up for this.  I have a job to do.  Sadly I had to leave Center Court halfway through the first women’s semi-final.  But there was no angst – I’d be back.  From the courts to my Airbnb was only a 15-minute walk.

Life works

***

Ha!  Meeting over, I rushed back to Devonshire Park.  My yearning mind, however, failed to notice a reality of life: the temperature had plummeted. There I was, high in the stands, bracing against a crosswind.  I felt naked in my t-shirt and shorts.  I’d missed the second women’s semi-final and shivers were consuming the men’s first.

Then The Downs started dimming.  That’s the gorgeous ridge to the west that I wasn’t fully appreciating at the moment.  Here comes the rain!

I didn’t mind.  Headed home for jeans and a dress shirt over the t-shirt.  Unfortunately no warmer coat.  Oh well.

***

I’m back at tennis.  Play hasn’t resumed since the heavens are still contributing.  I’m sitting here with my cappuccino watching the big screen for updates.

Some ball kids are practicing rolling tennis balls to each other on the grassed eating area.  I ask if I can roll one.  “Yes!” I bend down as much as this body allows and let fly.  Woh!  Like a pro.  The kids applaud.  Next lifetime.

Announcement: play hopefully will resume at 6:30!

So it’s back into Center Court.  Maybe three hundred of us, with the loudspeakers blasting “Dancing Queen”. Now it’s “The Macarena”!

Voilà:

Et finalement … maybe a hundred of us are dancing to “YMCA”. I give ‘er. After the end, two women near me said I made the big screen TV! Fame in Eastbourne.

I love this. And that’s enough for today

I was walking a few blocks from the tennis courts this morning and here comes an elderly couple. I had a question:

“Is the golf tournament up ahead?”

“No … it’s a tennis tournament.”

“Oh no!  I came from across the world to see the golf!”

(Stares and incredulous eyes)

“Oh well.  I’ll find the first tee.  And I hear there’s an amazing water hole.”  [The English Channel is less than a mile away]

(Smiles)

***

The photo shows a resting place with a view of the practice courts and the big Center Court. It’s so leafy and adorned with whizzing seagulls. Sanctuary.

And then there’s the “Event Information” booth.  Some boys just want to have fun.

“Yes sir … May I help you?”

“Thank you. I’d like to know what the meaning of life is. Just one word please.”

(Three volunteers silenced … for the moment)

(After a suitable pause)

“Family”

“Happiness”

“Orange. And actually, if you could find me one, that would be excellent.”

I smiled at them all and waved goodbye. My path was clear. I headed over to a row of food kiosks. On the counter of one I saw bottles and cans of various drinks, including an orange one!

Quick like a bunny, I paid for the precious liquid and hurried back to the info volunteers. My orange friend was busy with another guest. I placed the bottle on the counter and walked away, grinning all the while.

***

I’m trying to convince the folks sitting near me in Center Court that seagulls are one of the wonders of the world. To a person, they’re unimpressed. I can live with that.

***

I wore my “I love Gent” t-shirt today. That’s the Flemish spelling. One more time, people seemed really attracted to my chest. No one spoke up but I could tell many folks thought I was having a gay old time.

I just walked into The Dolphin for dinner. A friend had told me it’s a genuine British pub, and it feels that way.

A somewhat local couple at the next table are really friendly. They’re accompanied by her mom and two dogs. The lovely woman takes my picture. I tell them all that I live in Ghent. Lots of laughs.

And that’s the end of the rodeo for another day

Cheers

I have some silly expectation that since I’m in England on vacation, I should be constantly entertaining you.  Spectacular new vistas, experiences and insights.  But right now I feel blah … and I’m not going to dress it up pretty.

I think I’ve had too much sun at the tennis court.  Maybe just too much tennis.  I’m sitting with a friendly beer on a wee terrace by a pebble beach.  In front of me is endless water – the English Channel.  The vista is lovely.  There are seagulls flying low over the land … my favourites.  And me?  I’m so-so.

There’s no requirement for a human being to be happy all the time.  I checked the mirror this morning and I’m definitely human.

Wow … I just started smiling.  I wonder what that’s about.

Thirty minutes ago, I slid onto a wooden bench, sheltered from the wind by some bushes.  The fellow on another bench was feeding the gulls.  I wanted to be up close and personal. 

The birds were battling each other for the thrown food.  Wings in the air were close.  I got a good photo:

Cool. I realize that I don’t want to write anymore this evening. I’ll just finish with this: I made eight or ten people laugh today. If I had the energy, I’d tell you the details, but I don’t. I hope their smiles have lingered.

Maybe I’ll have funny stories tomorrow

And maybe not!

Here’s a picture of my Airbnb host Jean and her daughter from a few years ago.  Blessing is now 12.

What a marvelous person mom is.  We’ve already had two great talks.  She knows about balance: telling me about her life and wanting me to share about mine. 

Jean teaches “Health and Social Care” to 16 to 18-year-olds.  The teens are learning about staying healthy throughout the span of life, about aging, about disabilities.  And it’s far beyond giving them knowledge.  Empathy is also being transmitted from Jean to the soon-to-be adults.  I was so impressed that young British people are having their eyes opened in this way.

I expect that there will be plenty more of Jean-Bruce discussions.  Plus Jean and Blessing may visit me in Ghent!

***

I remain entranced by the green grass of Devonshire Park.  The colour is entering my bloodstream.  And there are tennis players who play the game with such grace.

Jan Choinski is a 6’5″ British player ranked 167th on the world.  I watched him flow over the grass today.  It’s astonishing to see such a tall man virtually dance through the match.  Sometimes his serves and groundstrokes would be so powerful.  And then he’d hit a delicate shot that would slowly fade beyond his opponent’s reach.  Marvelous.  He reminded me of the ultimate caresser of the tennis ball: Roger Federer.

Jan lost today.  But I look forward to seeing him sometime down the road.

***

I watched a ball girl for a few minutes. No doubt the ball kids are chosen for their dexterity and fitness. They need that for chasing balls that come off the racquets of professional players. This one girl was fumbling several balls that were rolled to her by other kids.

“What’s wrong with that girl?”

Usually I have compassion for everybody but I lacked it for her. As I was creating stories about the youngster – an injury, a fight with her boyfriend – I looked more closely at her hands. Each one was grasping two balls as she attempted to field the one rolled to her!

I was completely wrong. And let’s just say … not for the first time.

***

There were more cool moments today with more cool people but enough writing is enough. Time to rest my tapping finger.

See you tomorrow … with beach revelations