Brave New 2008
It was like the English game of “passing the parcel”. It went from one to the other for a while to be passed on to someone who was not battling with a can of beer. The parcel did not mind and was in fact smiling. After a while I caught the parcel. It started to smile and gurgle.
It reminded me of another parcel of long time ago.
We were in
Even in France. In fact we desired a lot of good food and if it was vaguely possible (budgets cuts that were going to be the norm for decades to come stopped the hopes), some sort of heating in the dormitories. That winter of 1956 was bitter enough to freeze your brains or anything else.
The parcel arrived in the common room one morning. It was not smiling but it was quietly gurgling. It made itself known and the recipient of it hurried to bury it in her locker. She was from
All of us were from different places in France and if we did not particularly like each other we were united in our love of food and good booze. That night we had a ball, stuffed ourselves until we collapsed and were violently ill the next morning. The lunch that day was the expected cabbage, reheated for three days because we had boycotted it on its first appearance.
We all sat there with our knives and forks crossed over the offending food. The Cook and Head appeared at the dining-room door.
“And what is going on”? They boomed in unison.
My big mouth has always been my problem. I could have kept quiet but no. I stood up.
“The food in this College is disgusting. This cabbage is three days old. It has been boiled to death!”.
“You will eat it or go hungry!”.
Oh! No, my Head lady (who was very fond of compliant young women). No, we have parcels in places.
The parcel I picked up, a few nights ago, on New Year’s Eve 2007 was smiling and not at all disturbed by its travels around a huge room in a cortijo way up the mountains above Antequera. The log fire was throwing fantastic heat, the table was groaning with food and drinks. Our Spanish neighbours had invited us to see the New Year in their farmhouse. They keep horses, dogs and cats in perfect condition and the view from the farmstead is to die for.
In all we were 30 guests: 28 of the same family and us, two foreigners. Everybody talked to us although we knew only the chief of the clan, his wife, his son and his daughter-in-law. The atmosphere was magic. And then they started singing.
The Antequeranos speak their own dialect. The singing that night might have come from the wilds of Scotland, the valleys of Wales or the backyards of Marseilles old town. It did not matter. The chief of the clan was playing on an old water jug with a goat skin on top. Through a whole in the middle he was beating rhythm with an olive wood stick. His son was in tune with him scratching a full bottle of Anis with a fork. The rest of us were singing.
The parcel on my lap was shouting with delight and I passed that parcel to the next man near me.
We were a mixture of Catholics (the family), atheist (I) and non practising Church of England (my husband) but the atmosphere was of hope, fulfilment, love and goodwill to all men and women. It certainly did not matter what we were, who we were or what teddy bear we were praying to.
Hope and joy is what we have to thrive for. There are many parcels to care for in this world. As somebody I can’t remember the name of said:” We are on Earth for a very short visit. Remember to smell the flowers in passing”.
I am very well known to the Sisters of a closed order convent in Antequera. The chapel is a piece of Baroque art and the whole building was renovated a few years ago thanks to somebody intelligent in
When you enter the chapel there is a wooden trellis blocking the entire right hand side of the building. There is a Sister on duty at all times when the chapel is opened. You can’t see her but she can see you. Whatever is your plight you can talk to her and hopefully get some ideas of how to solve your problems.
They all know me. I visit the convent especially in summer. It is cool. When the Sister on duty sees me she says kindly:” Jocelyne! How nice to see you! Are you going to pray?”
“No. I am going to sit down. My back is killing me, I am too hot and I want to think”.
“Same thing as praying my child...”
None of the Sisters ever asked me what religion I followed and if they ever did I would have been totally truthful.
Like the smiling parcel passed around a few nights ago nothing really matters as long as you have a smile on your face and opens arms to welcome anyone.
Let’s all have a fantastic 2008!!!!!!!!!!!
Jocelyne
