Nothing moves in this world...

Web news ~ 16 June 2011

'Except the blind forces of Nature, nothing moves in this world which is not Greek in its origin' - words from one of my great great grandfather's lectures at Cambridge in 1885. I replied to Richard Pine yesterday, discussing the Republic's possible return to the drachma:

Dear Richard. I was thinking of the knock on effects. Who’s helping who – the dyke (Greece) or the lad with his finger in the leak (EU-IMF)? If we go back to the drach what happens to Europe and the Eurozone? I was thinking of all the frozen conflicts that exist across the continent, especially the Balkans. I guess I’ve thought of the Euro as a sort of centrifocal dynamic tending to avert Mazower’s 'dark continent', the return of what Thomas Mann in 1947 called ‘the folkish layer’ - fear of complexity, longing for neat wooden villages set in pasture land on the edge of pristine forests, the innocent domestic rituals of pastry-cooking and precise needlework. Is this Germany’s high agenda – a sort of redemption for their earlier contributions to European history. Lin says you can leave the Eurozone without leaving Europe. UK never even joined yet we’re a player. We look forward to possibly meeting your daughter in early September. Best, Simon 

Stringer Malcolm Brabant's report from Athens collates images from the Square - Πλατεία Συντάγματος - the chamber of the Hellenic Parliament - Βουλή των Ελλήνων - and champagne served in the foyer in Brussels of yet another holding meeting of European finance ministers, including Christine Lagarde and  Wolfgang Schaeuble, their views opposed - the former pressing for creditors to hold their nerve and continue to bear the debt, the latter pushing for major privatisation of Greek assets, public companies and Greek real estate.

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Notices in Ano Korakiana and on its website announce that tonight High School pupils will give a performance in Skripero - 3 kilometres up the westward road from Ano Korakiana - of Moliere's Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme Ο Αρχοντοχωριάτης.

ΤΟ ΣΑΒΒΑΤΟ Η ΘΕΑΤΡΙΚΗ ΟΜΑΔΑ ΤΟΥ 4ΟΥ ΓΥΜΝΑΣΙΟΥ ΘΑ ΠΑΡΟΥΣΙΑΣΕΙ ΣΤΟ ΣΧΟΛΙΚΟ ΜΟΥΣΕΙΟ ΤΟΥ ΣΚΡΙΠΕΡΟΥ ΤΟ ΕΡΓΟ ΤΟΥ ΜΟΛΙΕΡΟΥ ''Ο ΑΡΧΟΝΤΟΧΩΡΙΑΤΗΣ''. ΣΤΗ ΖΟΦΕΡΗ ΠΡΑΓΜΑΤΙΚΟΤΗΤΑ ΤΩΝ ΗΜΕΡΩΝ ΠΟΥ ΖΟΥΜΕ ΣΑΣ ΥΠΟΣΧΟΜΑΣΤΕ ΜΙΑ ΒΡΑΔΙΑ ΓΕΜΑΤΗ ΓΕΛΙΟ ΚΑΙ ΧΑΡΑ. ΕΙΣΑΣΤΕ ΟΛΟΙ ΠΡΟΣΚΕΚΛΗΜΕΝΟΙ!![ΩΡΑ΄8.30]  ΔΩΡΑ ΜΕΤΑΛΛΗΝΟΥ....in the gloomy reality of the days where we live we promise you an evening of full laughter and joy. You are all invited. Dora Metallinou

Yesterday saw the last end of term celebrations of the village school due to close - pupil numbers having fallen below 14. Primary School children will attend a larger school near Ay.Markos next term - about two and a half kilometres away. The kindergarten stays in the village in a another building. The present school building will not, thank goodness be abandoned, but will become the home of Corfu Special School with a higher teacher-pupil ratio than its predecessor.

Αυλαία χθες το απόγευμα για το Δημοτικό Σχολείο της Άνω Κορακιάνας, που όπως είναι γνωστό δεν θα λειτουργεί πλέον από την επόμενη σχολική χρονιά. Στην αυλή του σχολείου και κάτω από τη συνεχή διάθεση αμφισβήτησης από πλευράς του καιρού, παίχτηκε η τελευταία παράσταση, με την τέλεση της καθιερωμένης εορτής στο τέλος της σχολικής χρονιάς.

Τα συναισθήματα ήταν ανάμικτα. Από τη μια το γέλιο και η χαρά που εξέπεμπαν οι αποδόσεις των μαθητών του νηπιαγωγείου και του δημοτικού, μέσα από τα σκετς («διαλόγους» τα λέγαμε παλαιότερα) που παρουσίασαν. Και από την άλλη, η εμφανής συγκίνηση στα πρόσωπα των περισσοτέρων και ιδιαίτερα στα πρόσωπα των μαθητών (των τελευταίων μαθητών του ιστορικού αυτού σχολείου όπως επανειλημμένα ειπώθηκε), των δασκάλων, αλλά και αρκετών γονέω

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The village will see a funeral tomorrow evening. We have known for three months that Sally's sister Rachel has been very ill. On Thursday Mark told us that she was gone. Later he wrote:

Rachel's funeral will be held on Friday at 6.30pm  in the village. So many times have we seen the posters go up on the telegraph poles telling us of who has died in the village and have heard the music band go through the bottom part of the village between churches and now that day will come for us on Friday.

Families and friends, Greek and English, will say farewell. I don't know if I'm insensitive writing of such things in this public diary. Compared to the city, life and death in a village is more public.

Ραχήλ, ελαφρύ το χώμα που σε σκεπάζει. 

Σάïμον και Λίντα

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We had a second emergency meeting on behalf of the CHPCP, having decided to define ourselves as a voluntary advisory group for the project. Present were Mike Tye (Chair), Charles Bates, me and Linda, Nigel Smith MBE, Leslie Pinder and Denise Forsyth. We were winding down after a discussion on  helping get the project restarted.

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Tony Herbert has sent me the DVDs of the videos lent by Marion Bréhaut following our shared visit to see her in Eastleigh last Monday. The first thing I did was to rip and edit a short extract from one of her tapes:Some time in 1980 Cliff Michelmore introduces an episode of Day by Day, Southern Television's Regional News programme, in which my stepfather chats to David Bobin about Stanley Bréhaut, his cameraman on Out of Town for twenty one years.

The novelist Graham Hurley - writer, among other books, of superlative police procedurals - who was an apprentice of Jack's at Southern wrote to me last year about Stan:

Simon...I knew Stan Brehaut and George Egan (Out of Town, Director) very well. Stan was the first cameraman I ever worked with. He was a loner and a buccaneer, which I guess is why Jack rated him so highly, but he had a hatred of tripods which - towards the end of a great career - became a bit of a handicap. He used to work with an old handheld Ari, which limited him to 100ft rolls of film (just over two minutes), but this kind of discipline bred a fiercely economic shooting style and meant that rarely a shot was ever wasted. Nowadays, of course, most video cameraman graduate straight from the Fire Brigade school of location work and simply hose the thing around on the assumption that post-production might salvage a shot of two from the wreckage.' 

By the time this clip was made Stan had decided a tripod and even Jack's trophy sniper's scope - a gem of an optic I recall from childhood - were helpful additions to his outdoor filming kit. David Knowles who worked closely with Jack on both Out of Town and Old Country, which he produced for Channel 4, told me recently that Jack would make deliberate mistakes on camera.
"It gets people writing in" Jack told him.
"I always wondered" said David to me the other day "whether that was true or an excuse"
I have spotted one mistake in this clip and possibly another. Watch this space, especially if a gun-kit spotters sees that "Zeiss" scope.

She got married

On a Monday in May our daughter Amy married Guy Hollier at Alvie Church in the Highlands, an errant sun, now and then, silvering the loch below the church. My mum Barbara was there, Sharon brown her carer, Linda of course and our friend Liz Delaney was bridesmaid. Guy's parents and just a few more friends. Guy's best man, his brother Russell. Keith, manager at The Station Pub in Sutton where, three years ago, Guy ordered a pint of lager and was served by Amy. Our son Richard was wedding photographer. I walked Amy to where Guy waited before the Minister, I gave her away. In that sweet place I had the sense of something momentous. (see Ano Korakiana website ~ messages from Katya, Kostas and Eva... Εύα και Κώστας)

The ceremony was as simple as the church, the music played on a keyboard set up for the occasion. Amy and me walked in to Canon in D by Pachelbel. We were welcomed by Minister Ron Whyte, who announced a hymn - 'Praise my soul the King of Heaven' which even I can sing, then the marriage - the Minister asked for no photos at this point, which was right -

I, Guy, now take you, Amy, to be my wife. In the presence of God and before these witnesses I promise to be a loving, faithful and loyal husband to you, until God shall separate us by death

I, Amy, now take you, Guy, to be my husband. In the presence of God and before these witnesses I promise to be a loving, faithful and loyal wife to you, until God shall separate us by death

The blessing and a reading from Corinthians 13 - resonant:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

He agape oudepotte piptei, Love never she fails. eite de profeteiai, katargetezontai, be it prophecies, they will cease, eite glosai, pausontai, be it tongues, they will be stilled, eite gnossis katargetesetai be it knowledge it will cease. Nuni de menei, pistis, elpis, agape, ta tria tauta, So remain, faith, hope and love, these three, meidzoon de toutoon, he agape, but the greatest of these is love.

Second hymn - 'I vow to thee my country' - (Thaxted) - tricky phrasing - and the Benediction, the signing of the Registers - Ode to Joy - and, as Guy and Amy left the church, Mendelssohn's Wedding March.

I respect, and delight in, the contrast between the austerity at Alvie and, earlier in the year, the venerable colourfulness of Saint Athanasios at the foot of Ano Korakiana. I've enjoyed every cliché in the ceremony book, including hymns that choke me up; at the same time, embarrassing me*. It was an arranged event, but one in which the old type of arranged marriage - by parents - was turned on its head. Instead of the bride and groom meeting for the first time on the day of their wedding, it was we parents who hardly knew one another until Monday. It was me crying rather than Lin, and it was Amy leading me up to the church rather than the other way round.

At the wedding breakfast in The Rowan Tree hotel where we'd stayed overnight, I made my speech - about strong women - starting with Jane Austen - she whose genius invented the subversive idea that people should get married for love - getting on to my family; my great grandmother Lucy who eloped with George Halkett, a penniless Scottish intellectual; my mother who divorced just after the war because she wasn't going to give up her career as a journalist to 'wear a hat' and be a diplomat's wife; about Linda who ignored caste barriers that would once have separated us (as did Elizabeth Bennett near two centuries earlier, unlike her brilliant inventor) and then about Amy, our daughter, who has a talent for making you not afraid of life, who, as a policewoman, will walk the mean streets - 'not a fragrant world, but...the world you live in.'

Amy's bridesmaid and best friend - Liz Delaney

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Pavla, who wishes Amy and Guy 'na sou zisei!' (may it live!) - has just published her second book on Corfu - [KORFU Pavla Smetanová ISBN 978-80-7422-025-8 160 stran/datum vydání 2010-05-12] - in Czech, so for the time being it's not available to me. She describes Corfu as experienced by a writer who's lived here over twelve years, married to a Corfiot, aiming to familiarise Czech speaking readers with everyday life on the island, its customs and traditions, describing Greek cuisine; where particular dishes can be found; best routes; places to visit; beaches and romantic corners of the island; historical facts and practical information.

Knížka popisuje ostrov tak, jak ho vidí autorka, která zde žije od roku 1998. Seznamuje nás s každodenním životem Korfanů, s jejich zvyky a tradicemi. Přibližuje typickou řeckou kuchyni a zároveň radí, kde ji najít. Popisuje ty nejhezčí trasy a místa, která stojí za návštěvu. Vypráví své osobní zážitky, které za léta života na ostrově nasbírala. Doporučuje krásné pláže a romantická zákoutí ostrova. Zároveň nezapomíná na historická fakta a praktické informace.

** ** ** Amy observes the custom of throwing her bouquet in the air. The catcher is the one, according to tradition, who'll be married next, among Liz, Angharad, another Amy, Phoebe and Haley. * * * The brilliant Australian writer Christos Tsiolkas who I first encountered writing with poison ink of his Greek Australian roots in Loaded was giving a far more generous view of the immigrant experience and attitude in a BBC R4 interview with Mariella Frostrup in connection with his latest book - The Slap. Tom Shone's interview with the author from the Sunday Times 9 May 2010:

His parents, who are both still alive, emigrated to Australia right after the Greek civil war in the 1940s, finding work in factories, his father putting money aside so he could buy his son books for school — Great Expectations, Mills & Boon, whatever he managed to lay his hands on. Tsiolkas would sit in class, scribbling ideas for movie scripts he wanted to write, and determined on the career of writer when a teacher read something of his and pronounced it “filth”. It wasn’t until he went to university, however, where he met and fell in love with his room-mate, that he came out to his parents about his sexuality, moving out of their house shortly thereafter.

“It was really difficult for them, coming from where they did, to understand, first, my sexuality, and, second, what I wanted to do with my life,” he says. “But at no point did I ever feel unloved. No matter how difficult it was... I could come on as a working-class hero, but the reality is, yes, my parents were migrant factory workers. That’s where I came from. I’m really proud of what they’ve given me, not just materially, but in terms of their love, their support. I feel confident enough that everyone in my world understands my relationship and how important it is to me.”

*See Governmentality, from my 'conclusion' on the penultimate page; Thomas Mann, in Dr Faustus, on how music can surface the 'folkish layer':

...magical palliation for their fear of complexity...longing for neat wooden villages set in pasture land on the edge of pristine forests, the innocent domestic rituals of pastry-cooking and precise needlework. His novel depicts deep responsiveness to music, innerlichkeit, the Lutheran separation of state and church in an uneasy co-existence with helpless bourgeois humanism, and something else that creeps up on you beneath an artful patina of circumlocutory reticence, suggesting how a particular kind of civility created the space for its opposite - the surfacing of the folkish layer.

Was ich Ihnen in abgerissener Kürze erzählte … ist die Geschichte der deutschen Innerlichkeit. Eines mag diese Geschichte uns zu Gemüte führen: daß es nicht zwei Deutschland gibt, ein böses und ein gutes, sondern nur eines, dem sein Bestes durch Teufelslist zum Bösen ausschlug… Thomas Mann, 1945, Deutschland und die Deutschen (see also and this pp.47-66, quote from p.64) '..there are not two Germany's, a good one and a bad one, but only one, whose best turned into evil through devilish cunning.'

Reflective analysis of a genius, but - no - not specifically German, not even Nazi, but any of us. Some of the comments under some clips of I vow to thee my country on YouTube tap into the English scoundrels who've no wish to read its second verse; who'd fulfil the expectations of J.B.Priestley about who'd strut if fascism got a grip.