Bulletin from Brighton

a corner of the drawing room of our Brighton 'rooms' [click to enlarge]

We are continuing to languish somewhat lazily, but enjoyably, in our Brighton 'rooms' making the most of the sea air before our return shortly to Budapest. During this time we have been somewhat neglectful of both commenting and posting, for which we apologise profusely.

It is our intention to publish a new post at the start of March, and we are much looking forward to having the time to catch up with all of our Followers and Friends early next week.

N.B. A number of people who have been kind enough to leave comments on our last post have expressed concern that the comment has disappeared. This is not in fact so, but any comments, over the total of 200, do not appear unless a further comment is made. They are, we assure you, all valued and published, along with a reply to each one. This appears to be one of the latest of the Blogger Blips!!

How Much is That Doggy in the Window?

Without wishing to cause offence to anyone, let us simply say that Trevor is not a name we should choose. But Trevor, who entered our lives as recently as early this week, arrived ready named and we should, indeed, most likely be thought more than a little heartless, callous even, to impose an alternative after some seventy or more years.

Trevor, whose wistful expression captured our hearts [click to enlarge images]

So, Trevor it is. And Trevor it will remain. Some will recall that in the late spring of last year we wrote of our joy and delight [not without reason should we be thought of as Peter Pan and Wendy] at the acquisition of a dolls' house. Hove Villa, as it has become, is particularly special as, manufactured in 1910, it is a product of Lines Brothers, later renamed Triang, of which the grandson of the founding brothers, Jeremy, remains a friend and with whom, together with his Belgian born wife, Claire, we shall lunch next Tuesday.

looking into the kitchen of Hove Villa which dates from 1910

Which brings us back to Trevor or, if familiarity is to be the order of the day, Trev. Although, on reflection, that is just a little too vulgar. For Trevor is also a product of Lines Brothers, or more accurately their subsidiary 'International Model Aircraft Limited, and dates from the years prior to the Second World War.

the underside of Trevor with original label dating from the 1930s

So imagine the excitement we felt [remember, we are inhabitants of Never Never Land] when reading one of Vintage Jane's as always charming posts to be swept away by the sight of Trevor, beady-eyed and lovingly worn, staring at us across the blogosphere.

Trevor pictured with one eye cast in a seaward direction

And so, for now, Trevor is happily re-homed keeping, or so we trust, a weather eye on sea and shore. Such foolish things!

Rooms with a View

the exterior of our London flat, King Frederik IX Tower [click to enlarge images]

For many years we kept a place in London. Or, to be more specific, we had a fourth floor flat in an ultra uber [apologies as we have not yet mastered the umlaut] modern, Danish designed block in what, at the time, was one of the less ruinously expensive boroughs. What sold it to us, as ultimately it did to others, were the floor to ceiling windows giving directly on to the Thames. From these, and the luxury of two balconies, we enjoyed watching a steady progression of shipping, if river cruise boats, the odd sailing vessel, Sunday morning canoeists, the occasional small liner and the ever present River Police can be called such, plying to and from the Pool of London.

a looking glass in our Brighton drawing room reflects the sea and pier below

But we are no Ratty and Mole of Kenneth Grahame's 'The Wind in the Willows', content to be 'messing about' on the river, when there is for ever the call of the sea. And so, prompted by memories of childhood holidays in the 1950s when respective parents repaired for the summer to the seaside resorts of Swanage in Dorset and Cornwall's Newquay, or possibly recalling long weekends in which we languished in the comfort of the Alexandra Hotel overlooking Lyme Bay, we 'relocated' [to employ the jargon of the pointy-shoed estate agent from whom we purchased our 'rooms'] to Brighton. 

the end section of the pier glimpsed through our Brighton bedroom window

It is no mere accident that Brighton is nicknamed London by the Sea. For less than an hour's journey from the Capital it boasts all of the fun, glamour, excitement and adventure of its larger neighbour. Culture abounds as do, apparently, celebrities, whilst a large gay community and a welcome influx of foreigners and students from around the globe ensure a prevailing atmosphere of immense kindness, tolerance and diversity.

a corner of our Regency square in Brighton

No longer uber [umlaut still in hiding] cool in London we now, on flights from Budapest, are to be found, rather in the manner of characters drawn from the pages of Miss Austen, observing life amongst the Regency terraces from our 1827 vantage point, eavesdropping on the latest gossip of the coffee houses, or tweaking the lace curtains as we spy on the beach below. Now, if only we had binoculars!

Blessed be the Ties that Bind Us

Once, at dinner in a favourite local restaurant, we were accused of being spies. To put this into some form of context the owners, who have become firm friends over time, introduced us, with much enthusiasm and, as it transpired, a great deal of misjudgement, to the couple seated at the next table. Upon discovering that we lived in Hungary they became convinced, and from then on it must be said we did little to persuade them otherwise, that we must be some kind of secret agents. At the point that we were informed that the country [the United Kingdom] did not need people like us, the conversation somewhat petered out. It came as no surprise to discover that we were not on their Christmas card list!

Dora Carrington's portrait of the novelist E.M. Forster

All of which puts us in mind of E.M. Forster's essay 'What I Believe' in which, in consideration of friendship, he writes 'If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country'. Happily we have not been called upon to do either. And if truth is to be told, then the closest we have ever come to espionage is in knowing the son of Kim Philby who, with Guy Burgess and Donald MacLean, spied for the Soviet Union and defected to Moscow in the 1960s.

Kim Philby depicted on a 1990 USSR stamp

Forster is not, of course, alone in the value he attaches to friendship. Dante places both Brutus and Cassius in the lowest circle of Hell when they choose to betray their friend Caesar rather than Rome.

The last two or so years have not been the easiest. During this time we have together successfully fought a rare form of leukaemia, now six months in full remission, which for over a year delayed much needed spinal surgery, carried out most successfully on Wednesday of last week. The death on Christmas Day of the only surviving parent added great sadness and further complexities to our lives.

hands joined in friendship

We should not, in any sense, be where we are today without the love and support of so many of our friends both here and in our adopted country of Hungary. But, equally important to us, have we been so touched by the enormous friendship we have felt from so many of you throughout the Blogosphere from across the world. Your comments, emails, cards and messages have meant so very much to us both and have served to enrich our lives beyond all measure. For this we thank you all from the bottom of our hearts; this post is for you.

Lighting the Way

lights on Andrássy ut looking towards Heroes' Square, Budapest

We wish all of you, wherever you may be, a joyous and peaceful Christmas and a happy and prosperous New Year. We shall much look forward to being with you in January, but in the meantime thank you for the friendship, kindness and generosity which you have shown to us throughout 2011.

'És monda néki az angyal: Ne félj Mária, mert kegyelmet találtál az Istennél. És ímé fogansz a te méhedben, és szúlsz fiat, és nevezed az ó nevét Jézusnak'

'And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary: for thou hast found favour with God. And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name Jesus'

Fare Trade

Shopping habits change. Once upon a time there were proper shops: grocers, greengrocers, butchers, bakers and fishmongers.  Even a dairy where each week the milk bill, for those delivered pints, would be paid. And on at least one weekday there would be the excitement of the outside or covered market piled high with fruit and vegetables, fresh free range eggs, home cured hams, honey, cakes and jams, all brought into the town from the surrounding countryside. Now, sadly, with the growth of the out of town superstore and, most recently, on line shopping, so much of this has disappeared.

the exterior of the market house in Hunyadi tér, Budapest [click to enlarge]

Here in Budapest old customs do, indeed, die hard, if they die at all. For since the close of the nineteenth century, when five large markets were opened, all coincidentally on the same day, very little has changed. Today they operate much as they have for the past hundred years, spilling over now, as then, into and onto the surrounding streets and pavements and catering for a population which continues to shop daily.

view of the interior, recently refurbished, of the Hunyadi tér market

Our local market, one of the original five, is in Hunyadi tér. Unrestored outside, it is a cavern of a place, icy in winter and overwhelmingly hot in summer, but hugely popular, and busy, at all times. In addition to several greengrocers, and like everyone we have our favourite, there is a bread stall, a fish counter, complete with murky watered fish tanks, crowded and heaving, a kind of marine Death Row, as well as two or more butchers.

the stall from which our meat is bought with, as always, a queue

For meat we favour a particular stall, manned by one Gyula and his merry men. The quality is excellent, and others think so too, for it is seldom possible to get away without queuing for at least twenty minutes, considerably longer at weekends. For fruit and vegetables we turn to Blondy where the stall holder, a Manchester United supporter, is endlessly cheerful and never without his somewhat cheeky grin.

the cheeky grin of the stall holder glimpsed over the fruit and vegetables 

Tucked away in a rather dark corner is the cabbage woman, essential if you are to make, which most Hungarians do much of the time, stuffed cabbage. With an outsize smile, she will serve you with near translucent leaves torn from a giant pickled cabbage. To this must be added the shredded strips, also pickled and sold separately by weight, which are cooked alongside the cabbage-wrapped meat and rice balls together with a generously sized piece of smoked ham. Apart from a few jars of pickled red cabbage, and the odd egg lurking in liquid, she has little in the way of other stock. Amazingly she appears to make a living.

the cabbage stall showing the shredded cabbage to the extreme right

North of Nyugati pályaudvar, the western railway terminus, is the most modern of all the markets, Lehel. In atmosphere it is very different from its older counterparts, slicker, more streamlined. But in essence it remains the same. Country people, with garden produce, man their stalls here as elsewhere, the honey man comes regularly, fish swim a little more freely, bread is baked and Brussels, with all its European Union regulations, is a long way off.

In the See and by the Sea

the spire of Chichester Cathedral dating from 1075 [click to enlarge all images]

If Salisbury Cathedral is famed, as indeed it is, for having the tallest spire of any English Cathedral, then the spire of Chichester holds the distinction of being the only one visible from the sea. But that is not all which sets Chichester apart. For in these present, enlightened times Chichester remains one of only two dioceses not in favour of, and to have voted against, the ordination of women bishops and, furthermore, whose bishop, The Right Reverend John W. Hind, BA DD, is vehemently opposed to, or so it is reported, the ordination of women generally as members of the clergy. A sad state of affairs, but more of that anon.

the Nave of Chichester Cathedral 

But with what joy on the First Sunday in Advent to be collected by friends Nigel and Peter, Peter a Canon within the diocese of Chichester, and whisked off in 'Miss Pearl', their pearlescent motor car, to attend not only Choral Evensong in the Cathedral but also the Rededication of the Shrine of St. Richard.

title page of the order of service 

  

the prayer of St. Richard

And what a splendid occasion. Sung Evensong, so quintessentially English, a procession of Bishop, Dean and Chapter, Canons and Clergy in full regalia, a triumph of organ music, incense, bells, and the vox humana rising up within those ancient walls. Perfectly placed in the front row of the Nave, we could not but wonder as The Reverend Alice Kemp, ordained daughter of the previous Bishop of Chichester, Bishop Eric Kemp, read from the Old Testament what thoughts might be coursing through the mind of Bishop John Hind. One of life's rich little ironies.

the cloisters of Chichester Cathedral on the evening of 27th. November 2011

Damp from a liberal sprinkling of holy water, on both Shrine and ourselves, we jointly decided against the ensuing 'bun fight' taking place in a side aisle and chose instead to accompany Peter on a tour of cloisters and precinct, scenes reminiscent of Trollope's 'Barchester Chronicles'.

Marrocco's Italian restaurant at Hove on the night of 27th. November 2011

Later, with the November night darkening the sea to an inky blackness, we found ourselves on the Hove seafront in Marrocco's Italian restaurant where, in the splendour of original 1960s décor and furnishings, we enjoyed the most wonderful Burrata mozzarella and the freshest and best sea bass ever tasted, and talked the night away.

P.S. We are so very appreciative of the concern and good wishes of so many of you during our recent, somewhat prolonged absence from, and neglect of, the Blogosphere whilst we wrestled with hospital appointments, doctors and consultants. Thank you so much.