Anniversary

Today, seven years ago we railed from Copenhagen in Denmark to Lubeck in Germany, a trip that included a rail ferry and duty free shopping. Two days ago, last Thursday was the 22nd anniversary of Anne’s eighteen-year-old son Patrick’s death in an accident in Sydney. The hardest thing I’ve had to do in my life was to tell a mother her son was dead. We placed his ashes under a newly planted pohutakawa tree in the Wellington Botanic Gardens. Every year on the anniversary we have gone to the tree with one exception, 2002, when we were in Copenhagen

Here is my diary for the day. ‘The anniversary of Patrick’s death, sadness allied with one of the most interesting days of my life. As it was raining (gentle drizzle) we didn’t get up until after nine. When we walked out we discovered that the restaurant Amadeus which we had looked for unsuccessfully last night was open for breakfast. It was a bakery as well as a restaurant. We had a continental breakfast, freshly baked rolls, strawberry jam, Danish pastry, cheese and ham.

We walked home via the supermarket to be picked up by Annadorte, [an art historian who assistance was organised by the Danish consul in Wellington], to be taken to see two old churches with wall paintings. As she had lived in Manchester she spoke English with in the dialect of that city. She had grown up in the area she took us to. The first stop was a little village called Mavel. The paintings were rather faded though in a sheltered corner there was a lovely madonna and child. As we couldn’t get the lights to work it was hard to pick up the detail. What did surprise me was to see a three men and three women wooden carving on the pulpit. All six were bare-breasted. One woman was fully frontal, the other two had their hands folded across their chests but the nipples were still observable. [In Catholic Italy bare-breasted madonnas are not unusual but I did not anticipate seeing them in Lutheran Denmark].

The next church Ballerup Kirke was breath-taking. It is one of the most striking churches I have seen. Its list of pastors dated back to the Reformation. But the paintings are from 1200. St Michael slaying the dragon, St George and another dragon, the madonna interceding with Christ who is interceding with God for human souls. The pulpit had similar carvings to those at Mavel.

Annadorte took us to lunch at the Canal Café with open rye sandwiches. The café itself was an experience, nautical knickknacks everywhere and a cheery welcome. On her advice I ordered two sandwiches, plaice and shrimps first, then roast pork, gherkins and red cabbage. They were monstrous. Even with the assistance of a medium sized beer – rather scornfully the waiter described Anne’s as ‘a woman’s beer' - I couldn’t eat all the roast pork. The first time in my life I have ever left roast pork on the plate.

We said goodbye to Annadorte and went off to the National Museum which was just around the corner. The Danish custom of leaving one’s coat in an open locker area takes some getting used to, in Berlin one always checked them in. 2000 BC stone age, bronze age, iron age. Clothing and remains preserved by the bog. The Chariot of the Sun. Absolutely fascinating. Then the Vikings. The arrival of Christianity. Wooden carvings similar to what we had seen in the morning. We got to the Reformation and had to gave up – just too much to absorb and it was approaching five o clock.

After a bit of confusion which we sorted out by going back to the railway station we caught a bus back to the nearest stop to our B&B. We had a brief rest before going out for a quick dinner at a café, a pate sandwich and a glass of red wine for me – neither of us wanted much after that lunch. We walked to the National Theatre to see the ballet The Odyssey. [They had a system of late bookings. We obviously had picked up a pair of cancelled seats]. We were delighted to find we had very good stall seats. While we waited for it to start everyone stood up. The Queen had entered the Royal Box, not that far away from where we were sitting. Her presence was the icing on the cake – it made it a Royal occasion.

My only regret is that there was no English programme. The ballet was at several levels. On a raised level there was a modern cocktail/coffee/television lounge in which people drank, flirted, watched the box, (before the show started was showing images of war and famine, and which I realised with interest fairly early on was actually showing the ballet as it was being danced. The main stage saw Odysseus as Everyman. The sea was portrayed by strikingly blue-dressed maidens who slowly moved across the stage but if they wanted to portray a storm they swirled their skirts and hid Odysseus in them. Modern clothing. Viet Nam. The sailors turned in to swine. Cyclops was portrayed as a science fiction figure of fun with an eye at the end of his trunk. Odysseus disposes of the other suitors and then he and Penelope danced down the dais extending out into the stalls before the troupe form the shape of a ship and pair sail off into the future. From the moment it began with Telemachus riding his bicyle until that ending we were both enthralled. It was like watching a 3 ring circus, so much was happening on stage so much of the time. There were 7 curtain calls, with 14 bows, first to the Queen and then to the audience. It had stopped raining so we walked home very exultant.'

Re-reading this I realise how much my life has narrowed down. Anne went to see Patrick’s tree this morning with Lesley – the first time I’ve not been with her on this annual occasion. I do recollect the morning we left Copenhagen. I said to Anne that this was the last time I would trundle a suitcase over the cobblestones of Europe.