As I motored into the Stour valley, over that generous river, I recalled my first time here staying near by (outside Flatford?) with John Constable, (the great grandson of), an artist, who Uncle John found and must have funded a weeks tuition to nuture my love of art. What do I recall of that time? A kind and gentle man, a sincere artist, somewhat dogged by his anticedance, a visit to a local pub where we met Tom Keating, recently charged with forgery (Samual Palmer) and about to make a second reputation with Hennessy advertising, (Henessy was in vogue when Wellington was in booties), having an exchange about Constable the ancestor. Keating a man with wild white hair and eyes full of smiles. I can remember John drawing me, naked reclined on a sofa in his workshop caravan, and feeling so grown up and magnificent – may be the first time feeling this.
As I recalled this in the Sun pub with Tinks and Clive, above all I felt gratitude for her father, my Uncle John, who enabled these pathways in my life, which surely would have been far poorer without. A delicious lunch, 3 oysters followed by venison with red cabbage excellently cooked. Talk of farming and the recent labour legislation to tax farms net value over 1m; tree planting – why haven’t you started? Theo posting Sams cards through the floor board gaps, Alou and her decline into dementia; Megan so furious with Alou for taking her (alou’s) car she made her walk the 3 miles home; the reflection on the year, Tinks felt the most volatile; my 3 deaths, Kevin, Serena, Monica; How Christianne was shocked to read the news of Fayed, who she worked with for years. Writing this I’m surprised that we didn’t talk about ourselves and how we were inside and out!
From Dedham Church (huge inside) I called the community, could I swing by I asked. Diana said yes. The dogs and I walked the pretty walk along the Stour river towards Flatford, they delighted to be out for a stretch.
Gabrielle opened the door. The two nanogenarians going strong, Stephen arrived back from hospital after a fall while I was there, the most agile of all of them (aged 94). Amazing women, all of them. Diana (Miss Impy) now in charge, and an exuberant, extrovert practical leader of the community. Tre (with diagnossed dementia) much thinner and frail with occasional what the f.. is going on look in her eye, but she and I had a smile together at the end. Capps is visiting this week, she said. ‘Send her my love, I said: Veronica Capps and Julie Andrews were my role models!’ Angela and I had a conversation (as she lay the table for dinner) and I commented ‘You are a bit on the slant’ I observed. Yes, she said, it’s a bit of parkinsons and a bit of old age’. We agreed: we are all star dust.
Angela conversation. We are star dust. Quote from The Tempest
What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how
express and admirable! in action how like an angel!
in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the
world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me,
what is this quintessence of dust?
Oh yes I remember your uncle john, Stephanie said , and that connection feels huge, as she is wheeled away for bedtime preparation.
The final event to fit into the day is meeting Laura off the 7.08 train, and over a pint in the white swan, she relayed news of sam her brother, who would be released early, dec 18, no doubt we surmised to relieve Christmas staff shortage. often in their cells 24 hours on training days already short staffed.
Kalikellett 