Family Constellations Hellingers Approach, Werther and losing the Will to Live.

Opera in the cinema is a mixed blessing, to tell the truth last Saturday was the evening from hell. I mean really, as the delicious Jonas Kaufmann himself put it, most people would tell Werther, Masenet’s hero to “give us a break”. Actually I have seen practically every opera known to man many times over, but this one has cured me forever, the man ( Werther) needs treatment and medication. After three hours of moaning and ranting, there is slow death from self inflicted wounds, because he couldn’t get his leg over with the prissy heroine. Just when you think it’s over, he starts on  again. The one consolation was that Jonas Kaufmann is, literally drop dead gorgeous. As for the two ladies sitting next to me, they set out a four course meal on their laps and noisily consumed some sort of vile fish salad ,spaghetti Bolognese, trifle, sweets and biscuits rounded off with a Thermos of instant coffee smelling of fart, quite a lot of which they squirted on yours truly through  ill fitting dentures. The Gun would have come in very handy, well enough said. Except of course for the idiotic opera talk from the groupies who get opera on the cheap and eat repulsive food out of plastic trays as if they are on a flight to Lanzarotti  (however you spell it) while they watch but don’t really listen. I have thought about this; opera is not meant to be on the cheap, it is supposed to be a real live experience without other peoples sound effects.  To each his own, give me the ballet any day, but never in the cinema.

Werther or as the phonies say “Wertharrrrgh” accent on the last bit, needed a good session with Family Constellations. I wish I were twenty years younger, I would have understood so much more about breaking the destructive patterns in families, it may only take one person to do it. What I never realized was how voices from the past reflect in the subconscious DNA in the family dynamic, like sheep who inherit a knowledge of their grazing territory. One session brings many of these cycles out of the shadows. That is of course why early intervention when children are bereaved is so vital, before the cycle of guilt and blame takes a pernicious grip.

There is something about some opera lovers, take for example the Sainted One, who by and large does not express any emotions except about sport on the TV, he cannot empathize with real things like “The Life of Jayne,” spelt with a Y of course. She is the beautiful black and white dove who feeds in our garden, and has been here for three years or more. Jayne has taken to mixing with very low class pigeons. She brings three of these birds home for dinner, and I am in a state of near nervous breakdown, because I think she is in a serious relationship with one of them, he is an ugly brute with no table manners, she could do so much better for herself. The SO will not talk about this, or offer any helpful suggestions, except for the nasty mention of a gun the other day. I tell you he obviously doesn’t  cry, politicians don’t, except for George Osborn who blubbed theatrically at Margaret Thatchers Funeral, because he was apparently thinking about his nan it was a sickening vision. Well the S.O. weeps in opera’s, he did while the idiotic “Wertharrrgh” blew his innards out. This is rather creepy and I try to pretend we are not together,  but then, I do know there have been some very deranged men who wept like babies to Wagner and suchlike and then did some really horrible things. I have talked to Jayne about all this, watch this space.

Mandela’s Wall, Kitchens are Where The Heart Is, and Caught With Your Pants Down.

Mandela’s Wall, namely the magnificent rebuilding of the garden wall shared with our brave uncomplaining and very poorly neighbour was finished last week. It was truly a labour of love, as was the life of its namesake. It was completed by two heroic men in the face of atrocious weather and many other adverse conditions, but they stuck it out and there it is and it will stand any future hurricanes like the one that blew it down. We found this little bronze Buda in the foundations of the original and it is to him that we offer many prayers to “Diana, truly the goddess of love.

Below you will see a picture of my divine cleaning assistant flanked by her husband and their assistant. They opened a kitchen shop in Tooting, it is wonderful, so if you need a new kitchen go up on all the marble is sourced in India hence the flavour of the photo. Really I felt quite embarrassed by our own recent improvements of which we are inordinately proud on our return. The new open shelving looked very last year.

The day after this opening I went to see my daughter and needed to (what is known in my generation) spend a penny urgently. Rushing to the small room I sank onto the seat with a sigh of relief. This nice feeling was instantly ruined by a sensation that my bladder must have developed a terrible kind of fissure as I was sitting in a pool of warm liquid most of which had gone on the floor and my rather nice new trousers. Leaping to my feet I find that one of my grandsons had put cling film all over the bowl. The worst thing about it was that the whole family were complicit in this as they had realized what he had done the previous day, and deliberately avoided using that loo to spite him. Of course they all looked a bit sheepish, and as for him he looked like the cat that got the cream. But he should watch his back it’s not over yet, not by any means

What Girls Want, Endless Mud and Dirty Sheets.

What a surprise, little girls like to play with dolls and sit at baby dressing tables and fix up their faces. Well there it is and thank God for it because if they wanted to get a jackhammer and bash people’s heads in, or wanted a Kalashnikov rifle for their birthdays the world would be an even worse place than it is. My youngest granddaughter, as you will see loves her dolls, and cares for them tenderly, she did not fancy the many weapons of mass destruction which her elder brother preferred. Most boys like playing horrific games on those foul reality machines they are all plugged into where they can walk into supermarkets and blow old ladies heads off. I confiscated something called “Grand Theft Auto” and threw it in the Solent and have never been forgiven for it. I am not saying boys should want to play with dolls, after all they want to play with girls all the time after a bit. And you all know what I mean by that, because you are sassy people.

Someone mentioned the popularity of porn sights yesterday at lunch. My very witty best friend agreed with me that it was strange for girls to want to show people what she called their “Flue” and the Sainted One remarked that, considering there were many millions of the said organs in the world it was strange that men wanted to look at pictures of them. I made what I thought was a rather sensible comment suggesting that “situation modesty” and the school run played a part in most women’s lives,thus creating few opportunities for this kind of voyeurism  on a daily domestic basis. The conversation then became rather unpleasant.

I have just washed another  ten sheets and an equal number of towels. I have an obsession about used sheets you always get caught out. Once I stayed in a rather smart house and found a note in the bottom of the bed saying “Sarah Black has slept in these sheets” people always get clean ones here even if they are related .

I feel rather low at the moment as two of my most precious friends are very sick we said prayers for them in our lovely Church and I await a miracle. It never stops raining, so my dogs have had to be shorn of all their magnificent plumes, because they cart all the mud from the construction of Mandela’s wall into the house and of course my bed when they can. My neighbour managed to get out to look at it on the only sunny day which was a special moment.

But it is not all bad, I went with my elegant son to the Sleeping Beauty at Covent Garden, an evening of sublime joy,which makes one grateful to be alive  and proud to live here where all this beauty and talent is nurtured and available.