Cat Callers

Sara the Cat is an only cat. She was not born without siblings, but once she came to live with us, she rarely saw other humans, let alone other creatures. She has heard the cats next-door through the walls (they might actually be good friends who chat regularly, chi sa?), and smelled them maybe after L came back from looking after them when their flatmates went away. But she is THE only cat, and enjoys it thoroughly.

Today, however, I think was the first time that she met Mocha and Cartesio whisker to whisker. We neighbours were exchanging seasonal conversation on the landing, and Mocha decided to pop her head in our front door, as seen above. After a cautious exchange of sniffing, Mocha then dashed back inside her own home.

Cartesio, however, was not so shy. Sara the Cat had retreated under the bed at the far end of the flat, to recover, I suppose, from the shock of this meeting, and to reflect upon what it all meant. So our marmalade friend swaggered into the living-room, and had a good look round. After inspecting the underneaths of both sofas, he then headed for the bedroom. I heard a sound a bit like crackling gas escaping suddenly from a valve, and ran to see if Sara the Cat was ok. She was fine. Cartesio had vanished.

A few minutes later, L came back from the landing and reported that Cartesio had found his way home. Phew. I guess Sara the Cat was reminding us all of the lockdown, and that now is not the time to make new friends. After all, we are already blessed with her.

Pastor Martin Stöhr z"l

During my end-of-year tidying of files on the desktop, I found this wonderful photo of Pastor Martin Stöhr, Angela Davis & my father. I'm not sure exactly when or where it was taken (or who by) - I'm guessing in the early 1980's, probably in Germany, most likely at an Evangelische Kirchentag. Out of all my parents' friends from their interfaith dialogue in Germany, I think I loved Martin the most. We lost touch a few years ago and, looking at this photo, I wondered if he was still alive. I was sad to find out that he died just a few weeks after my mother. And I remembered a conversation I'd had with my father many years ago, when at a conference where Martin was speaking. "Martin is so kind, and so good, and so smart," I said, "how could he possibly believe in something like Jesus?" My father replied, "did you mean what you said about him? So kind, so good ...?" "Of course!" I responded indignantly. "Well," said my wise father, "if believing in Jesus is part of what makes him into this person that you love, why do you question it?"

I hope I can continue to learn this lesson, going beyond tolerance to acceptance. It's hard to remember, but this photo will help me. I hope that I can bring some of it to 2021, and add to the blessing of Martin's memory.

Desert Island Texts Revisited

 

The princess of procrastination strikes again. During an ambivalent attempt to catch up on some important paperwork, I came across this brief piece written for the column "Desert Island Texts" in the Jewish News back in 2014. Obviously it had to be shared before I could get back to my to-do list. You're welcome.

"Desert Island Texts

Having benched gomel for surviving the stormy waters and making it to the desert island, I would then congratulate the lucky fish that would be wearing my glasses in the future. Since I have inherited my father's dreadful eyesight, the text I desire would have to be one stored in my memory. Since I also appear to have the memory of a Swiss cheese, the text should be short and sweet. What comes to mind immediately is the midrash in which Abraham explains to his father Terah why all the idols in their shop have been smashed. Abraham says that the biggest idol was responsible, and Terah is furious. "Are you making fun of me?" he asks his son, "they cannot do anything, they are just stone and wood!" "Aha!" cries Abraham, "your ears should hear what your mouth is saying!"

Terah was in the idol business, and it was convenient for him to ignore the reality of the situation. His acknowledgement of the inanimate nature of these so-called gods was instinctive, and it was only the shock of Abraham's actions that forced this realisation to the surface. Terah chose not to be conscious of the reality, but the truth was always within him.

So it is for the rest of us. How many false gods do we have that lead us astray, consuming our attention and our energy? How many of us choose to ignore thoughts and feelings that deep down we know are important but may disrupt our comfortable lives? And where will we find the iconoclast who will return us to the heart of the matter?

I choose Abraham. His punchline shocks me each time I hear it. Wherever I am, whatever I do, I carry it with me as a handy mnemonic for those times when I can't see the wood for the idols."

PS and yes that's why I named the blog thusly.

Team Applesauce

Minor health issues meant that our first household attempt at traditional Chanukah latkes had to wait until our digestive abilities had recovered a modicum of strength. That day was today! 

L was also introduced to sour cream for the first time (it is NOT the same as yoghurt), and I made some applesauce. We are now resting on the sofa, thoroughly sated and currently feeling quite proud of ourselves.

As you can see, I am prepared to eat latkes with either topping - the German applesauce of my maternal ancestry and the dairy delight of my father's Polish heritage. If, however, I am forced to choose, then it must be Team Applesauce. Mahlzeit!

The Last Day of Chanukah

When I was young, I asked my father why Chanukah was such a big deal. I'd learned somewhere that the presents were mainly so we wouldn't feel bad about Xmas, which left us with a lot of candles, and fried potato latkes with applesauce. Although we got some chocolate coins from Sunday School, we never played dreidel. I'm not sure why, but most likely because there wasn't a spinning surface available in our flat. The rooms and halls were carpeted, the bathrooms were tiny and the kitchen floor was tiled (which messed up the spin). O, and the dining-table was for dining. And homework.

Along with the historical and religious origins of the festival, my lovely father explained to me that most religions, and a lot of pre-religious cultures, had rituals at this time of year in the northern hemisphere. People were sad and scared because it was dark. They wanted the sun to come back, and tried to encourage this by lighting lights. I thought it sounded a bit primitive. He pointed out that it works. Every year.

Tonight we lit the last of the lights for this year. 2020 is almost done (although, of course, 5781 isn't even half-way yet), and there has been a lot of darkness all over the world during this period. We are scared, and sad, and very very tired. We hope the sun will return. Whether it reappears in the sky or not, each of us still has a Divine spark within, and surely that can and must be a source of light for ourselves and each other, every day we walk through this world.

Chag urim sameach - Happy Festival of Lights.

 

Farewell Dame Barbara

The news that Dame Barbara Windsor has died has really touched me. She was neither relative nor friend, I was just a fan. Unusually, I did actually meet her once. I was called in at the last moment to substitute for a shiva service in North London, for somebody I'd never met. After the service there was a small reception, and although everyone there now knew who I was, I didn't know a soul. And then I recognised her over by the sandwiches. Channelling my late father (who would sail right up to just anyone and introduce himself), I decided to go and say hello. I have always been a fan of the Carry On films (I liked her best in Carry on Spying, her first one I think), but my opening line, in the worst geeky fangirl way, was something like, "My mother would never forgive me if I didn't come and say hello, she is such an Eastenders fan!" Dame Barbara accepted this graciously and we ended up having a really interesting conversation about Hattie Jacques, a comedienne & former colleague from the Carry Ons. It was only a brief chat, but having presented myself in such an awkward way, we were able to have a very normal conversation. Because of this she became real to me, and not just a national treasure I knew from the telly. So I am really sad to hear of her death. She was suffering severely from Alzheimer's, so I'm glad she will suffer no more. My heart is with her family and friends at this time.

BBC report

 

Happy Chanukah!

According to the label, this was my first Chanukah. Most likely in East Hampton, NY, where my dad was the rabbi. It was our first Chanukah as a family. What a fine moment that must have been (I don't remember that much of it tbh!).

There is much darkness at the moment. Tonight, in our families of birth and of choice, we begin a community effort to bring the light back. Join us!

Chag Chanukah sameach!

Dahl Was an Antisemite But His Family is Sorry

An article by Gabriel Pogrund in the Sunday Times today reveals (in a somewhat caustic tone) that although Roald Dahl died an unrepentant antisemite, his family members are a bit embarrassed about that and have put an apology up on the Dahl website.

Pogrund quotes such gems of Dahl's as:

"There is a trait in the Jewish character that does provoke animosity, maybe it's a kind of lack of generosity towards non-Jews. I mean there's always a reason why anti-anything crops up anywhere ... Even a stinker like Hitler didn't just pick on them for no reason." (Roald Dahl in 1983 in an interview with the New Statesman quoted in the Sunday Times - original article not available online)

The article suggests that the apology may have been made in order to protect the Dahl brand, which makes millions of pounds in profits each year. I was also rather distressed to read that some people believe the Child Catcher character added to Ian Fleming's original story of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang reputedly by screenwriter Dahl expressed antisemitic themes and stereotypes in its representation.

Dahl is dead. His descendants have made an apology. I don't think this means we should or can forgive Dahl - that's impossible since he is definitely dead. It is good to know that his family is embarrassed by the prejudice that clearly existed in their famous relative. 

What then might the purpose of the apology be? Why should it not be sincere? Could it be a marketing ploy, as Pogrund suggests? If not, perhaps the family needs to do a little more than bury a brief message on their website (you may find it here). Some kind of visible involvement in the fight against hate speech? Public donations to organisations that teach tolerance? Or maybe even sponsorship of an initiative within the Jewish community. What would Miss Honey say?!

Insieme Contro La Violenza Sulle Donne

Today is the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women. If you would like to know more about this initiative, the United Nations website here is a good starting point.

A pair of red shoes has become a symbol for this movement. I am not exactly sure why - please let me know if you know the origin - but it certainly catches one's eye. These shoes were placed on the Ringadora Stone in the centre of Modena today.

Here are some facts that everyone should know.

Click here for advice and information regarding violence against women in the time of Covid-19.

Ways we can help.

Diego Armando Maradona RIP

It was sad to hear the news that Diego Maradona has died. Here in Italy it is headline news, and much of the evening on tv has been spent eulogising him. 

Living and being a football fan in the UK during the height of Maradona's career, of course the defining memory is the infamous "Hand of God" incident (Maradona commented on it some years later in a chat with Gary Lineker). Thus, although I cannot deny his footballing ability, there was quite a bit of resentment, not so much for using his hand, but for the way he responded when challenged about it. 

The photograph above, that I took at Wembley just over a year after that World Cup match, marks the only time that I saw Maradona play live. It was a commemorative friendly between a team representing the Football League and a Rest of the World XI. I remember clearly that when Maradona came out onto the pitch, the first thing he did was to wave the offending hand at the crowd (which might be the reason behind why he was booed whenever he had the ball).

Maradona was a gifted player, and had a stellar career, but was also plagued with problems of substance abuse and addiction. His demise is sad and premature. He will be remembered for his contribution to the beautiful game. May his loved ones be comforted as they mourn their loss.

tributes on the BBC news page

BBC obituary

Kristallnacht 2020

[Cannot seem to embed YouTube video so please have a look via this link:  Kristallnacht]

My father was in Berlin during Kristallnacht. Actually, his family had been warned about the possible pogrom and had gone into hiding in the attic of a house in the suburbs. They were there with about 10 other people, for quite a few days. The video above gives a brief version of what happened next. For the rest of his story, the Museum of Jewish Heritage in NYC features "Albert's Story" as an educational tool in their Shoah curriculum. You can see more of it here.

To be honest, my father never talked that much about his experiences. He always said that he would answer any questions that we had. The problem for me was, I didn't know which questions to ask. With regard to Kristallnacht, the most striking part of his story for me was always when he spoke about going back home after it was (supposedly) all over. The family travelled separately, and my father was with his father, Alex. He told me how he could feel the shards of glass as he walked along the street, he could feel them through his shoes. And he said that there was a moment in the U-Bahn when he lost hold of his father's hand. That is the memory that sticks with me, the feeling in that instant.

Today, this date also marks the moment when I went to the German Embassy in London with my mother 3 years ago and we reclaimed our German citizenship. It was not a conscious choice to have the appointment that day, yet it made sense that it was then that a smidgeon of something we had lost was returned to us. 

We mourn what cannot be restored, and we are hopeful that a new chapter of healing is now possible. There's a lot to do - let's get busy!

Ho Ho Ho Hector Hugh Munro

Mad bad procrastination today. Not so good for my future, but for the present I rediscovered after 40 years the wonderful short stories of Saki. Delightfully wicked ... The Lumber Room, The Open Window and, for cat-lovers, Tobermory. Really cheered me up.

Enter here.

Parshat Vayeira and When to Speak Up

 

It's time again for my contribution to Liberal Judaism's Thought for the Week - something inspired by the upcoming Torah portion. This one is for Parshat Vayeira:

In this week’s parasha, as the covenantal relationship between Abraham and Adonai begins to develop, we can hardly believe Abraham’s chutzpah. Not only does he question Adonai, but then Abraham argues with Adonai and, as if that wasn’t enough, he somehow convinces Adonai to back down from a decision that has already been made. Abraham makes a cogent and humble case that it is unjust for the innocent to suffer with the guilty, and the plan is immediately recalibrated, several times. Chutzpahdik! Yet Adonai accepts all the corrections that Abraham offers in his quest for justice. Unfortunately, not one innocent person can be found, and Sodom and Gomorrah are destroyed.  

 

If we wonder why Adonai appears to be so lenient when directly challenged, a clue may be found a few verses earlier:

 

“Now Adonai had said, “Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do … for I have singled him out, that he may instruct his children and his posterity to keep the way of Adonai by doing what is just and right”[1]

 

However omnipotent Adonai may be, in this relationship model Abraham is offered a behind-the-scenes view of how justice works. Adonai says that this is a kind of professional development session to help Abraham instruct subsequent generations how to follow a just and right path. And Abraham shows that he has a natural instinct for the task. He speaks up where he sees injustice, his words are heard, and the system is changed. The two of them have a positive experience together, which bodes well for the future.

 

Or does it? If this example teaches that the human partner in the covenantal relationship plays an active role in determining what is right and wrong, isn’t there a slippery slope towards making decisions based on what you want, rather than what you should do? The parasha responds to this question with the story of the binding of Isaac.

 

Isaac represents everything that God has promised Abraham in exchange for his loyalty. God now says:

 

“Take your son, your favourite, the one that you love, Isaac; and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I will point out to you.”[2]

 

God uses the same words of command, “lech lecha”, as God did in the original invitation to the Covenant, but this time God requires something terrible from Abraham, a sacrifice that seems unbearable to us. And what does Abraham say? Not one word! He gets up early the next morning, and follows God’s commands to the letter. In the end, Abraham’s hand is stayed at the last minute, and an unlucky ram is sacrificed instead of Isaac. However, at no point in the text do we see any sign of Abraham questioning God’s decision. In this example of the covenantal relationship, the human partner submits entirely to the will of God, proving their faith by their deeds and their acceptance of the consequences of their actions. But is this not also a slippery slope?

 

If the human role in the brit is always to submit, never thinking about what we are doing, we risk becoming mindlessly obedient slaves to the system. Suffering becomes a product of God’s will. How then could we become aware of injustice, and speak up against it? 

 

This portion presents us with two powerful principles, each at the opposite end of the spectrum from the other. They are both valid responses to our relationship with God and available for us to choose. And that is what we need to learn:  how to make the appropriate choice for the situation. Abraham teaches us that different situations require different responses. There is a time to speak up, and a time to submit. The challenge for us is to figure out which is which. 

 

As Abraham is in the early stages of his relationship with Adonai, so are we. Before we must decide how to respond, shouldn’t we learn more about our own relationships?  We might begin with some instruction from Abraham. The Torah portion tells of his hospitality, his sense of justice and his faith. He was someone who reached out to strangers, offering physical sustenance and moral support. We have a long history of knowing what it is like to be strangers, exiles, refugees. We cannot let this empathy be corrupted by the isolation of social distancing and lockdown. 

 

So let us focus on a positive perspective – despite the current restrictions, what is possible? Look for local projects that are offering a community response to tackling food poverty[3]. Perhaps you can take part in the Age UK campaign to alleviate loneliness amongst older people[4]. Are there letters you can write or phonecalls you can make on behalf of programmes[5] that support refugees, or that fight hate crimes, or that raise awareness about mental health in your borough or city?

 

As we lift up our eyes, may we become aware of what is just and right. As we learn what it means to be a partner with Adonai, may we find the strength and the flexibility to know when to be a chutzpadik and when to yield.

 

 

 

---

[1] Genesis 18: 17 & 19

 

[2] Genesis 22:2

[3] for example in London there is https://www.jw3.org.uk/help-us-now

[4] for example https://www.vccp.com/work/cadbury/donate-your-words/

[5] for example https://www.citizensuk.org/national_campaigns

Finding Focus

It's not the first time, and probably won't be the last, that I note that I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed at the moment. This is, of course, compounded by the fact that I think I share the feeling with almost everyone I know. While everything is relative, I think these are really tough times, and I'm definitely seeking direction.

The other day I came upon the note pictured above. If I remember correctly, it was from a WRN Biennial in 1997. I had just escaped from my first job in Toronto for a few days in the sun with  friends and colleagues,  and was really a bit low. There was a group exercise where we shared some thoughts and feelings, and afterwards wrote messages for each other. I have no memory if and what I wrote for someone else, but I kept the message I received:

God's lion

You are so strongly and beautifully

who you are

Shine

Roar

Love (not exactly legible but have always read it as this)

Heal

Heal others

May you be blessed

as you find the

Blessing in others.

It comforted me then. As I reread it today, it seems clear to me that I need to refocus. I am thinking so much about all the things that are making me feel bad - physical pain, how the coronavirus may and does affect my life, work problems, the deaths of old family friends (& famous people whose work I appreciate), people behaving badly, governments and their actions. This message reminds me not just to seek, but to FIND the blessing in others. It is certainly there.

Thank you to the author:  my colleague and teacher, Rabbi Karyn Kedar.

Shavuatov.

 

MMMMMmiaow

Here is Sara the Cat enjoying some attention from L this evening. I don't want to anthropomorphise our cat so I have to admit I have no idea how she feels about most things. The almost silent rumble deep in her throat however, according to experience, appears to suggest some pleasure on her part.

Sara spends the most time playing with things we would otherwise throw away - empty boxes, an old wickerwork basket, the insides of toilet rolls, bits of string or old ribbons, and scrunched-up paper on its way to the recycling bin. There's clearly some kind of lesson there, but just now I'd rather be playing with her.

The life of a house-cat is certainly appealing. Food that you like is available whenever you wish. Although you spend a lot of time caring for your personal hygiene, all else is the task of others, including the swift removal of your natural excretions and the equally speedy restocking of your litterbox. You may sleep as much as you wish, and with a couple of cute tricks can easily encourage your flat-mates to play with you. You sit at the window and look out at what is happening in the world. Finally, you are loved and caressed and feel safe in your home. 

Come to think of it, life under lockdown sometimes isn't that far away from what I've just described. Miaow!

The Snorkel Solution

It's been a while since I tried to draw anything. I missed the last #DrawingTogetherGM gathering as it took place during Kol Nidre. And I missed several opportunities to sit down and draw something. But my mind was blank. 

Something came to mind this afternoon, so here it is:

O yes, and please wash your hands and keep your distance and wear a mask and wear it properly.

Thank you.

30 Years of German Unity

 

Was it only five years ago that my mother and I wandered over to Belgrave Square with an invitation to celebrate 25 years of German unity at the embassy? 

What a lovely party it was. Upon entering the building we were greeted with delicious shots of schwarz-rot-gold something. After a couple of drinks I was quite merry and able to enjoy games (I won a 3D jigsaw puzzle of the Neuschwanstein castle in a quiz/raffle), an exhibit including one of the original copies of the signed document of unification, and fantastic food. It was a bit meaty for me, but I found a pretzel as big as my head which kept me going (and helped with all the shots I'd imbibed).

My favourite part, though, was the photo ops corner. You could take a selfie with a life-size Angela Merkel cut-out. And there was a Photo Booth that put you in varied typical German tourist photo situations. As you can see, I liked that best of all.

Today Germany celebrates 30 years of unity. Look back to 1990 here. How different our world seems today. We are celebrating the festival of Succot this week, zeman simchateinu, the season of our joy. I remember German unification as a moment of joy. I hope that people can feel hopeful about the future, and that today will be a joyous day. Chag sameach!

How Can It Be Already a Year?

About 10:30 am last year on the second of October, I was in Bologna Airport, waiting for a flight to London. The doctor had told us the day before that our mother had only a few days left to live. My phone rang as I stood by the gate, and my sister told me that our mother had just died. 

It is now one year later, and we shall recite Kaddish for the first yahrzeit at Shabbat/Succot services this weekend. Apart from that, I have little to say. Lockdown made a mess of our experience of time this year, but even so that moment in the airport seems so recent.

Nu, I have chosen a picture to share that recalls a lovely moment we had together here. Mummy was visiting Modena, and we popped into the forno round the back of the Albinelli market for a bit of a snack, and found this brand of tomato sauce on the shelves. I often called her Mutti, even before we got our German passports, and managed to persuade her to pose for posterity.

Missing making new moments like these, but blessed with many memories. Mi manchi, Mutti.

Preparing for Yom Kippur

My lovely father was quite well known for his sermons. During the year, he thought about them in advance, and made 5 or 6 notes on a scrap of paper as an aide-memoire. When the time came, he stood up and spoke without a written text. Erev Shabbat he would usually speak about what was happening in the world. On Shabbat he discussed the Torah portion. His references were often diverse - they could be anything from Hannah Arendt to Rabbi Akiva, from Homer (both the Greek poet and the cartoon Simpson) to Heinrich Heine, from Freud to Finkielkraut. He had a great sense of humour and, for me most importantly, when he spoke you felt like he was speaking to you, not at you.

For those rabbis blessed to have a pulpit position, the High Holydays can require up to 5 sermons in a 10-day period. And since the services tend to have the largest attendance of the year, there is the sense that you kind of need to wow people. In fact, these sermons were the only ones that my father would type up beforehand. Anyway, the time came when I was blessed with a pulpit position, and was required to write some High Holyday sermons.

So, I wrote my sermons and, each year, the night before I was due to preach, I would telephone my father long-distance (in the far-off days when there was no internet chat, only e-mail) and read him what I'd written so he could check I hadn't made any major mistakes. He'd make some suggestions. I'd argue with them all. I'd make some changes and then we both could get some sleep.

In 2003, just before Rosh Hashana, I phoned my father as usual, and asked if I might read what I'd written. "You know what?" he said to me, "I don't think so. You don't need me any more." I was really surprised, but didn't argue. We chatted a little and said goodnight. When I'd finished my final draft, I emailed him a copy. He wrote back that it was the best I'd written so far. And the congregation seemed to agree with him.

That was the last High Holydays of his life, as he died the following summer. And when Rosh Hashana came round again, and I cried because I couldn't phone and ask him to check my sermon, I heard his words - "You don't need me any more" - and realised that, for sermon-writing, he was right. 

I'm thinking of my father tonight, as I prepare for Yom Kippur services. I still worry about my sermons, but I mostly do ok. I'm recalling that the night before my ordination, I asked him if he had any tips he might share with me for my future rabbinate. He told me:  when preaching, remember James Joyce! I was a bit perplexed, and he explained: "the end of the book went right back to the beginning. Wherever you end up, make sure you connect back to where you started. It gives a sense of completion. And, at least be brief. You always get points for that." Now this I can do! 

Ok, time to get back to my prep. Wishing all those who fast a g'mar tov. Shana tova!

Ruth Bader Ginsberg z"l

We awoke this Rosh Hashanah morning here in Europe to the news that Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg died last night at the age of 87. She was at home in Washington DC, surrounded by her loved ones. 

If you don't know what she achieved in her lifetime, please take a moment to read about her. To those who know, we had hoped that she might survive just a little longer so she might do just a little more. She fought with all her might, on so many levels. But now her struggle is over, and she rests in peace. 

Jewish tradition teaches that one who dies on Rosh Hashanah is a righteous person, a tsaddik. We already knew that about Ruth Bader Ginsberg. As we wish that her memory will be for a blessing, it will only truly be so if we step up and continue her work. That is the best tribute we may offer as we mourn her loss.

With condolences to the family and dear ones who mourn their loss on a day that is supposed to be full of joy for Shabbat and the New Year.

NY Times (paywall)

The Times obit (paywall)

BBC obit

The Guardian obit

A statement from Barack Obama on the passing of Justice RBG

People magazine

Shana Tova 5781

Am kind of excited that we get to begin a new year tomorrow. Any chance to reboot, to recalibrate, to restart is most welcome!

To all who celebrate Rosh Hashanah, may we wish you a safe, healthy and happy new year.

& Farewell Sir Terence Conran

 

News is coming through that Sir Terence Conran has died. Without Habitat, all the homes I've ever had would have looked very different. In appreciation of his contribution to design in the UK, and with condolences to his family. Thank you, Sir.

BBC report
BBC Obit

Guardian obit

The Times obit (paywall)

Independent obit

Dame Diana Rigg RIP

 

So farewell Dame Enid Diana Elizabeth Rigg. On the one hand, I find it strange that I am sad at the demise of someone I have never met and did not know. Diana Rigg's work will always be available to me through images and recordings, although there will be no additions to the collection. I send my condolences to all who knew and loved her for their loss.

On the other hand, Diana Rigg was an actress whose work I enjoyed often over the years. Her episodes of the Avengers are timeless, as is her wit and charm. And she could do anything, from Mrs Danvers to Mrs Pumphrey, from Agatha Christies to the Oresteia via a bit of Dickens and Doctor Who. She starred in Theatre of Blood, the only horror movie I've ever enjoyed. She was in Genghis Cohn (the film version of a Romain Gary novel that I wish more folk would read) and she married James Bond. 

There is one way that Diana Rigg had a small and direct influence on my family - my father adored her as Mrs Peel, and went to see her in Jumpers. Being rather short-sighted, he got seats in the front of the theatre, and was thus also able to smell her perfume. Somehow (who knows, and who knows if it was correct information), he learned that the scent she wore was Bellodgia

and consequently presented my mother with a vial (that I later inherited. It was indeed a lovely scent). 

As I sit here remembering all the pleasure Diana Rigg's work brought to my life, I now recall that while I never met her, I did once meet her wig, which was a bit of a thrill. I saw a version of Heartbreak House c. 1983 as a guest of our neighbour Rosemary Harris, in which Ms Rigg played Mrs Hesione Hushabye. Afterwards we went backstage to say hello and thank you, and while we were in the dressing-room, the wig-mistress stopped by to collect Rosemary's wig, and we could see that she'd already been for Mrs Hushabye's!

Feeling grateful for the life and work of Diana Rigg. May she rest in peace.

BBC obituary here.

The Guardian obituary

The Times obit (paywall)

The Telegraph obit (paywall)

NY Times obit (paywall)

Evening Standard obit

A Life in Pictures (the Guardian)
a plethora of Peel pics

Tweets on Twitter in memoriam

Wikipedia entry

2019 interview (paywall)

Didn't We Have a Lovely Time the Day We Went to Mantova

The original plan for this birthday was a trip to Venice. A kind friend had offered us the opportunity to stay somewhere, and the city was supposed to be relatively empty for the time of year. However, especially just before the Chagim, and with the numbers creeping up again, it did not seem sensible to travel by public transport, so we decided to wait until a more auspicious moment.

Nu, we needed to find somewhere to go for the day, somewhere reachable in the Pandina. Then L suggested Mantova. I knew sod all about Mantova, and initially wasn't very enthusiastic. How wrong I was!

The weather was lovely - just hot enough for L, but heading for autumn in a way that meant I could wear long trousers and sandals. And this was our first view of the city. With swans. Not the greatest photo, especially because it really cannot convey the WOW factor of suddenly being hit by this view from the car.

We were trying to make it there by 10:30 am so we had a shot at getting into the synagogue before it closed. The lady on the phone said the time was inflexible because of their alarm system. We just made it, and while the docent concluded her previous meeting, Piglet got a chance to pose again:

Our guide began by asking us to prepare a small donation for the work of the synagogue to be given to her at the end of her tour. She then took us straight into the sanctuary. She told us everything, about the past, her past, the current community ... including the incongruent information that the rabbi in Verona had recently divorced his wife. 

It really was a quite lovely conversation in the end. At one point, while I was taking some pictures, she asked L if I was married. L said no, and that we are together, which she took quite well I think as before we left she said next time we come to Mantova we should call her and all go for a coffee together. I do wonder, though, if she had been thinking that I might be a prospective match for the newly-single rabbi!

This visit made our day, and anything else would be icing on the cake. Speaking of which, we then walked to the Centro Storico

and found a cafe with a table partly in the sun & partly in the shade where we could partake of some refreshments and I could receive my birthday bounty.

Maybe when you get to be this old you are a bit tired and don't want to see everything, or maybe you realise that you don't have to tick all the tourist boxes. We wandered for a while. I learned about a local delicacy - Mostarda Mantovana (more fruit than savoury condiment)

We had a lovely picnic lunch in the garden of the Palazzo Ducale. Mantova is quite a meaty place, and porky also, so L had prepared some delicious panini full of ingredients that kosher and veggie folk could enjoy without fear. Then we went to get a map from the tourist info office, which happens to be in Rigoletto's house, so Piglet was able to pose with the statue in the garden, and "Pigoletto" came to be!

I'd been up late the night before trying to make some peach jam, and was beginning to run out of steam. But there was one other place that I definitely had to visit. We bought a postcard for my niece by the Basilica di Sant'Andrea, and then walked through what was once the Jewish Ghetto.

There is so much to see when walking through a city, and on so many levels: up above eye level & down; shapes and colours of buildings & details of windows, walls and doors; people and what they are doing. This was one of my favourite details, from a door somewhere between the synagogue and the Piazza delle Erbe. Is it a tree, or an alien?

Our final planned destination was the Casa del Rabbino. It is a 17th-century building from the ghetto, and doesn't seem to have an actual rabbi connected to it. Thus this rabbina had to have a look. Unfortunately from a visitor's point of view it is a private building, and cannot be visited. So we took a few pictures from the outside

We considered visiting Palazzo Te, especially the Chamber of Giants, but we passed the car park on the way there, and decided to drive there, and then decided to keep driving. We hope to return to Mantova, and to begin the trip at Palazzo Te with our batteries fully charged. We beat the rush hour on the autostrada, and made it home with time to rest before a celebratory dinner with friends.

What a wonderful day! What a great suggestion by L! Grazie mille!

Reprieve for Man Buns?

The Nations League international football tournament began tonight, and football-starved fans were able to follow their national teams, albeit still only from their sofas. Italian TV showed the match between Germany and Spain live from Stuttgart, and I had a pleasant time on my sofa with a stream without commentary. Very nice. As a bona fide citizen, I rooted for my home country, but they were robbed of victory in the 96th minute by a goal that looked suspiciously offside. There seemed to be few complaints, which suggests that either the conceding team was dumbfounded by shock, or their players had a better understanding of the laws of football than I.

After it was all over, I wandered around the sports pages to see if anyone had anything to say about my offside query, and came across some photographs of the Welsh international Gareth Bale. He has sported a man bun for a while now, and I really don't go for that look. And then, I saw this:

What is most shocking to me is that he needs his roots done. Considering the amount of time he has been sitting on the bench at Real Madrid, you'd think he could pop into his local peluquero and get a top-up. Meanwhile, having seen this, I'm even more shocked to realise that I prefer the man bun. Sigh.

(Kudos to the photographer who got this shot. Please let me know their name so I may give them credit.)