Wave

 

Another crummy day during which I had the delightful experience of conducting my daily swim to the accompaniment of the extended drum roll of rain on the retractable roof of the pool together with the vision of water cascading down the glass walls.

Making the most of the weather I paused on the sea front on my return, parked the car and took photos of the larger than usual waves.  And just as usual my final pictures failed to show the majesty of a breaking wall of water.  Part of that failure, I have to admit, is that the waves (even during turbulent weather conditions) are well short of anything approaching majestic and I hesitated before I took off my sandals and paddled in a way to make the most of the proximity!  (Just in case there was any ambiguity in that last sentence, I did not take my sandals off, it was cold wet and miserable and I had no intention of intensifying any of those adjectives!)  I was also trying to bring a large umbrella under control at the same time during a struggle of wills between a brisk wind and the hand that was not holding the camera, well, the phone.  One day, I will take a picture of the waves of which I will be proud.  In the same way that on another ‘one day’ I will take a decent photo of the firework displays that we have on the beach.  One day.  But not one day today.

This week is going to be a short week for Toni as he has Thursday and Friday ‘off’.  These two days link to the weekend to make a four-day holiday Puente (bridge) to be enjoyed.  What this means in effect is that for four days all the menus in all the restaurants in Castelldefels will be at Fiesta & Fin de Semana prices, that are substantially higher than for an ordinary weekday.

Today is All Souls Eve and there is, I am glad to say, a selection of traditional food that should be eaten on All Souls or All Saints Day, or on any period of time near enough to qualify.  We have been invited to Terrassa to eat our fill of chestnuts, sweet potato and small marzipan cakes or panellets.  Over the past week or so there has been a chestnut seller in the centre of town doing a brisk trade.  Although we haven’t bought any of them, the rich smell as you pass the brazier is available for free! 

For kids of my age (!) roast chestnuts bring back memories of Johnny Morris (born in Newport in Wales!) in black and white on the BBC!

I have also, apropos of nothing that I have written above, been listening to part of my birthday present: a nine-disc set of the operas of Janacek in preparation for a performance of Katya Kabanova next month – which starts, of course, tomorrow!  Time is, as always, speeding up.

I did not listen to Katya first as my favourite opera by Janacek is The Makropulos Case.  This is the opera, as I never tire telling people, I have seen the most in live performance.  Given the number of years that I have been going to the opera you would have thought that by now one of the biggies in the opera world like Tosca, or Madame Butterfly would have overtaken my viewings of what is, still, a fairly obscure opera.  But no, it remains paramount in my experience thanks mostly to WNO’s trailblazing 1978 performances with Elizabeth Soderstrom singing Emilia Marty, conducted by Richard Armstrong, directed by David Pountney, with designs by Maria Björnson – a production I saw wherever WNO played it.  And, over the years I have augmented these initial viewings with others when I could get to them!  I am still waiting for a production of Makropulos by the Liceu, but Katya will do in the meantime!

And talking of that performance, it is astonishing what you do not see if you either don’t want to see it or have assumed something other than the reality that is printed in black and white in front of you.

I have a season ticket for the opera in the Liceu and, with the addition of an odd ballet and recital, I get to see all the major opera productions of the season.  Or, at least that was what I thought, and my request for the CDs (ah, I am a traditionalist at heart and I like to have ‘hard’ copy as it were) was to bring myself up to speed with the music so that I could fully relish the performance.  And then I realized that a ticket for this performance was not included in my package!  How could I have missed this?  I am sent an individualised calendar giving me the dates for all of the performances during the season.  And Katya was not among them!  There was a moment of panic before reality reasserted itself and I reasoned that Janacek is still not given the credit that he deserves in pushing the limits of opera and that selling the seats would always be a problem.  And sure enough, when I phoned the box office, I was able to get ‘my’ usual seat (row 10 on the aisle) for a performance on the 20^th of next month.

So, apart from a single nasty moment, the situation has now been rectified (by the injection of cash) and I will be able to see the opera.  But the ‘oversight’ did make me think.  This was one of the operas that I was looking forward to seeing and still I managed not to pick up on the fact that it was not part of the package.  Admittedly my season ticket is automatically renewed unless I stop it, so I do not have to search through the Byzantine complexity of what package is right for me, but still, I saw the list of operas and Katya was not on it.  How? 

And it really does make one think about what else one has assumed to be that is simply not.  The good thing about that thought however is that obliviousness dampens fear.  I will not know what it is that I have not know about until I find that I do not know.  So to speak.  Perhaps I am just one of those people who assume that something or other will happen to make me question something in just enough time to ensure that disaster does not strike.  Well, that is my ‘saving lie’ and I am sticking to it!

And, by the way, the sun has just come out!

The Use of the Ordinary

Although I swim every day, I have never pretended that swimming is anything other than boring.  It is now like brushing my teeth, it is something that is necessary and you do regularly, but is not exactly pleasurable.  If I don’t have a swim, in the same way when I (rarely) forget to brush my teeth before I go to bed, I feel that there is something missing, something is not right.

I set myself a metric mile each day and up and down I go for sixty lengths in my local pool and at the end of it I feel that I have accomplished something and like ‘Doing a good turn to somebody every day’ my duty is done.

So swimming in our community pool attached to our house raises another problem motivation.  As our community pool is quite small, the last few meters separated form the main pool by an underwater wall to create a ‘kiddies’ splash around area, the actual straight swimming length is limited.  If the pool is empty I compensate by swimming in circles, but it is not entirely satisfactory.

I have, therefore, devised an approach that combines exercise with the law of the Wolf Cub Pack and make a virtue of necessity and swim around picking up and discarding the rogue pine needles that settle on the surface of the water.

I have discovered that reflection or refraction or possibly both, mean that it is easier to see the floating needles from under the water with a pair of goggles than searching the surface from above.  I therefore must look like a swimmer motivated by Brownian Motion as I jitter my way through the water seeking the double refraction of the needles before they are swept out of the pool and to the side - where I am sure that a gentle breeze will waft them back into the water.  But that is not the point: I swim and feel that I am exercising while performing community service.

From time to time I come across insects that are vainly wing-swimming their way through the water to a chlorinated death.  When I do spy the odd wasp or beetle or fly in their death throws, with a positively Franciscan magnanimity, I scoop them out and deposit them on the pool side and drift away on my hoovering duties feeling quasi angelic and somehow ‘justified’!

Today, I have to admit, I haven’t been to the pool for a swim (for lunch, yes, but not for a swim) instead we went to the beach.  We live one street away from the sea, and yet we rarely go to the beach.  I see it every day because I usually cycle down the paseo and drive past it, but we have suddenly become aware that it is already August and we haven’t really ‘done’ the beach.  So two hours was spent beside the waves.

And waves there certainly were.  People usually assume that the Med is a quiet and domestic body of water - and to be fair, it usually is.  Sometimes, however it can be a little spirited.  Today, for example, a yellow flag was flying which indicates that swimming is not recommended.  That could be for a number of reasons, ranging from the quality of the water, through an infestation of stinging jellyfish to adverse water conditions.

Today the water was rough.  Even the profile of the beach has altered, which certainly indicates the waves and currents have been in a terraforming and sand-sculpting mode.

Castelldefels is a generally safe swimming spot because although currents can be strong, they usually drag you back to shore and along the beach.  And that was true today, with the added excitement of tumbling waves strong enough to knock you over.  Which they did.  And strong enough to remove Toni’s bathing costume - though that was in the shallows and he was able to restore decency in the masking obscurity of sand heavy water!

Most of my time was taken up, not with swimming in the sea, but reading on the beach.  I grabbed, at random, an unread Iain Banks novel called The Crow Road, which has (I am not surprised to find out) a place in the Daily Telegraph’s 30 best opening lines in literature (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/books/what-to-read/30-great-opening-lines-in-literature/the-crow-road/ ) I cannot say, by the way, that I agree with all the choices made there, but I made the mistake of looking through all thirty and for many I was half inclined to find the book in my library and start reading it again - which is always the danger when you have a snippet of something great to tempt you!

Anyway, I have had this novel for some time and only read the first few pages (as who cannot given the opening line!) and for some reason had laid it aside.  This is not something that I usually do, except for Virgina Woolf’s To The Lighthouse that I did (and did with gusto) on many occasions before I finally bit the bullet and read the whole of the damn thing.  I have decided to keep the novel that I am now gripped by purely as beach reading as that gives me an incentive to engage in the futile and empty pastime of lazing in the sun and gives it a sort of purpose.

Tomorrow the first of our final tranches of summer visitors arrive and I am minded to write a series of poems suggested by visitors, their arrival, response etc.  I have made some preparatory notes and look forward to seek where such an enterprise takes me.  The time period is from tomorrow to the end of the month and into September and the three ‘groupings’ of visitors are very different.  I hope that this blog can also be part of the process either for ideas or responses. 

I can but try!

Though I also fear that such a task is merely displacement activity for the work on my Spanish grammar and vocabulary.  Are both possible?  Should be.

Now, having written it down, it seems like a sort of contract with the future!

A contract easily broken!