It is Monday morning.
Not early. My butler didn’t come with the 9am coffee (He’s turned into an
invisible man), so I stayed in bed. Because it’s been quite a weekend.
PART ONE: Sing me a drear song
Cold, drizzly
Saturday, into the office. Biography of James Sauvage, Welsh baritone to
complete. Done. 5pm, Paulie arrives and we head off to the Volkstheater and its
charming Grüner Salon. It’s Eurovision night, and the manager has had the fun
idea of staging a live ‘international’ concert prior to the start of the Main
Event. One of the singers was to be good friend Riccardo Vino, and it sounded
like it might be a fun event, so… well, I hadn’t watched Eurovision since ‘Il y
a toujours un banc, un arbre, une rue’ days …
I still haven’t.
Riccardo and his suave delivery of some lively, winning, charming period
Italian songs were the highpoint of what was supposed to be a jolly night.
Before him, we had a Dutch lady who talked too much and gurgled dreary songs on
dreary subjects into the middle of a microphone (excuse me, Paulie has to sing
into that next!), and afterwards we had a sort of Juliette Greco lady of
indeterminate nationality with a strong baritone who ended her act on that
classic of misery, ‘Malade’. Whee, it’s a party!
The room, which had
been but half-filled for the concert, began to fill largely as Eurovision time
approached. I looked at Paul, he looked at Katja, and the three of us sidled
out, leaving the good folk to enjoy (?) the amateurishness of Eurovision and
its predictable and over-publicised drag queen winner, while we ..
PART TWO: Spargel and Strawberries … it’s the season
We sidled as far
as Kopps. Since our first visit, we’d been wanting to bring Katja here: she is
a real Vegan! It didn’t let us down. It
was peak time on Saturday night (not a time I would ordinarily choose), the
place was thronged, the waiters run off their feet … well, gin and basil
qualify as Vegan, so I started with that, then an asparagus quiche, which was
more like a pattie. I thought it a bit bland at first, but gradually you get
used to the more subtle flavours of veggie cooking and enjoy. Next, a cucumber
soup laced with dill. Yow! I never knew dill was so forceful! Really tasty.
Finally, we had asparagus ravioli …
Katja had a amazing egg-salad thing (made of course, without eggs) and a
non-cheese cheese-plate (excellent), and Paulie – who had, after all, been
working – had a pretty wee dessert. Like Spargel, strawberries are in season,
so they invest many a dish … Finally we were served a little chocolate truffle
trifle-y thing. How they made it so delightful with no dairy, I do not know!
The meal cost 140e
for three. About the same as the Katz Orange’s gold-star pork. Perhaps a tad
expensive, but Vegan is trendy. And jolly nice.
PART THREE: Curled up in my bed
I awoke at 3.20am.
Eugh. Oh heck! It’s 1.20pm in New Zealand and Agnes is running in 15 minutes.
Grab computer, onto Trackside and .. groan! She is favourite! I hate that! My
horses never win when they are favourite… on the other hand, they do well when
I’m a million miles away.
Well, Agnes didn’t
do her best beginning, and alas she ended up three deep on the fence. Damn. She
is a free-striding, biiiig girl, and is really better in the open. She couldn’t
get out to go past the dawdly leader, so she just sat the whole tactical (huh!)
race in the same place as others came and went outside her. Into the straight,
the dawdly leader was done with and the trailing horse went down the passing
lane. Agnes was stuck behind it. No room on the outside, not enough space to
get through on the inside. But she tried. She upped a gear and finally whisked
through a tiny gap … too late. The post arrived and she was a fast-closing
third, beaten a head for second.
Third is fine by
me. It’s grand to win, but I’m really happy with podium finishes. I sat up till
the video came through, and of course couldn’t sleep thereafter ... dear Agnes,
splendid Wendy and Chris .. that’s three placings in four starts …
PART FOUR: The pace quickens
I had finally to
crawl from my snatched-snooze bed. Paul and I had an appointment with Nik, the
physical trainer. Episode two in my attempt at a return to something resembling
fitness. Episode Umpteen in Paul's!
We started
pleasantly. No walking machine. Instead I walked up and down a studio. Stomach
in! Butt in! (Nik is American). It’s all very well to SAY that, but how to do
it? The tummy and the buttocks are at opposite sides of the body, if I pull one
in, by the laws of nature, the other goes out. But I tried, and apparently I did
it. Shoulder and abdominal exercises and then the squats. Yayy. I can do
squats. Don’t know why or how, but I can. Even holding a dumbbell weight.
Into the main gym,
and out with the baby weights. 3k. Even the bad arm can lift that.
The good one has
to wait for more kilos: we mustn’t get lopsided! We strike out to the rowing
machine: look! See how I am walking. Backside in, striding (?) along, arm
almost swinging. And compare with the photo in Vienna last year, or Bernau a
few weeks back. With the stick. I didn’t even bring the stick today.
The rowing machine
is tougher this week. Nik increased the resistance twice, we did more
repetitions
And then I was
commanded to sit up straight while pulling. At the same time! Paul says I did
it.
Then, finally, on
to the mat. I got down much less inelegantly this week (I’ve been practising)
and prepared to have my legs pulled. Oh no, not yet. And now came the anguish.
Streeee-tch … arms, back, and finally, oh dammit … When I taught this stuff, I
used to rejoice in doing leg-lifting exercises, easily, repeatedly, while my
seriously butch rugby-player class groaned, trembled and whined. Now it was I
whose legs quivered … oh hell, it’s easier if you don’t point the foot, but
it’s a habit …
I scrambled to my
feet with the aid of an arm from Paul … head turning a bit … class two had
definitely been an advance on class one!
I wobbled
downstairs for some healing tea, my underwater arabesque exercises, and rest by
the pool…
The Spa is a bit
different on Sundays. More populated. Not so peaceful. Wraith-thin orientals
with electronic stuff -- the boy next to
me was chatting on one machine and playing a game on another simultaneously;
the office-secretary type over the way was deep in her ipad; others had
earphones. Books. Papers. I was the only person just ‘resting’. I’ve got a
mind. I don’t need all that. ‘Ducks don’t need satellites’.
When a worked-over Paulie turned up, we gave the sauna, the pool, the birdsong showers and the tea a few more whirls and .. and, good grief, it was nearly 7pm.
Home, for a
brilliant, healthy Maultaschen, Spargel and proscuitto dinner, with lime water
… accompanied by Weber’s Oberon and
de Falla …
Oh yes, I didn’t
mention. Yesterday was my first day without alcohol for fifteen months. You
see, I am taking this thing seriously …
And yes, we’re
booked in for another visit tomorrow. Oh, heck, I mean today!
So wish me luck …
And a quietish
week!
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