A Jazz concert, a row and Tapas for dinner.

I have a better night and sleep through until six thirty and then lie dozing for a while, until I hear sounds emanating from the kitchen, getting up around half past seven. Graham says he and Liliane were awake again several times in the nightvand that he still feels tired, he certainly looks it, his whole demeaner seems subdued. He takes Frankie for a quick toilet walk whilst I have a mug of tea with Liliane. When he comes back we eat breakfast, Graham bought some German land brot in the supermarket for me yesterday, along with some tee wurst, so I eat a few slices of this for breakfast accompanied by strong black coffee. We are going to another free concert in Rotterdam, this afternoon, a famous jazz trumpeter, Eric Koeman, ( I think is his name), is playing accompanied by the organist of the Protestant church in the city centre. Graham plays a piece of his on YouTube, while we eat. His playing is very slow, quiet and soulful. After breakfast and a shower, Graham and I take Frankie for his morning walk, throwing the ball for him along the canals and crossing the bridge to the business park at Rivium, which is deserted because it is Saturday, we make our way back along the cycle path that we normally take to the Esch, the little Nature Park that lies next to the river Ijssel, across the road lies the Salmon House, a restaurant on the riverside, where we had a splendid lunch last year, when we visited with, Andrew, Jackie and Gino, Graham's friend, Sue, from the Shetland Isles was also there. It was a lovely sunny day and Kenny and Shalini arrived late. Shalini was a few months pregnant with Connor then and had had her passport stolen. Graham and I laugh as we recall the day and make our way back past an allotment, where some rare breed sheep are enclosed, before walking along the canal side, throwing balls for Frankie. A coot is sat on her nest in the water, Graham says he thinks her eggs are sterile, because she has been sitting patiently for weeks now. When we get back it is time for lunch and we eat a Caprese, which I made for them yesterday, and "cooked in the fridge" over night. Liliane is treating everyone to dinner at a Tapas Restaurant in town tonight, so a light lunch is in order. Afterwards Graham drives us in his car to the tram stop, which is less than a kilometre away, it lies at the other end of the path that we normally take to the Esch. The early morning cloud has now burned off and it is scorchingly hot, we park by some flats near the tram station and walk the short distance to the nearest vehicle, which we board, using my OV chipcard, which Graham gave me during my last visit and Liliane reminded me to bring. The tram waits for five minutes before starting, it is air conditioned, but all the windows are open, so hot when stationary, but OK once we are underway. The conductor comes and takes our chip cards away from us and then she swipes them at the terminal by the door, before returning them again, there has been some sort of malfunction but she assures us everything is now OK. It is a fairly short ride into the City centre and takes about twenty minutes, we get off at Blaak, remembering to swipe the chip cards as we get off, (otherwise you are charged for the maximum distance), and then make our way towards the church. It is market day in Rotterdam and the town centre is crowded, people dressed for the weather, in shorts, tee shirts and sun dresses. It is very hot indeed, we stop at a snack stall where I buy a bottle of water, to take to the concert. The church is almost a cathedral, much older than the Catholic Church we attended last night, the huge organ, on which the concert will be played, lies at the front, where the altar would stand  in a Catholic Church, and beyond the organ, rows of chairs are arranged. Although the church reflects the more austere style of Protestant decoration, the chairs are mercifully padded, and much more comfortable than those we sat on last night. The concert starts at two and we take our seats early, around twenty to the hour, securing a nice position, about four rows from the front and in the centre. By the time the concert starts, every chair is taken and quite a few people have to stand. The acoustics are wonderful, the bass notes from the organ vibrating through every cell in my body. The duet with Eric Vloiemans is spectacular. He appears on a platform about twenty feet in the air, to our right, opposite him, behind a glass window, we can make out the organist, only his arms and hands visible through the glass, as he plays the huge instrument from the keyboard which is located there. I close my eyes to concentrate on the music, the deep bass of the organ beautifully complemented by the haunting notes from the trumpet. A slow movement at the start reminds me of Genesis, the organ representing the waters that cover the earth, and the trumpet the Holy Spirit, that moves over them, like the first day in the life of the world. Later the music becomes quicker and more playful, before ending once again quietly. The response from the audience is ecstatic, the ovation rising and falling in waves. The compere announces that Eric Vloiemans has to leave now, as he is conducting the Dutch National Youth Jazz Band shortly. There are literally hundreds of musical events taking place in Rotterdam over this weekend for the North Sea Jazz Festival. The concert continues with just the organ, first we hear a rendition of the Jazz standard, "take the A train", complete with a pretty fair imitation of a train whistle. This is followed by "Bohemian Rhapsody", Queen's greatest hit, and brings the house down. I wonder what Father Roy might make of a piece by a gay rock star, which includes the line, "Momma, I just killed a guy, put a gun against his head, pulled the trigger now he's dead!" I can't see it happening any time soon in Saint John's, but it might at Beverley Minster, with the Reverand Jeremy Fletcher, who describes himself as the "Louche Canon!" For my part, I like to believe that the Creator would love the creativity and the joy with which the piece was played and received. It is three o'clock, the concert is over and we file out to the strains of "Amazing Grace", making sure to make a donation to the church on our way out. The last time I  visited Graham and Liliane, they took me to an avante garde jazz concert, which I also enjoyed and would never have encountered otherwise. My tastes are quite eclectic and you never know what you might like until you have tried it. Outside, in the lovely sunshine, it is decided that Graham and I will visit the market, to try to find a small milk jug and Liliane will wait for us in the library, as she becomes uncomfortable in large crowds. Rotterdam market is huge and there are lots of second hand stalls and bric a brac shops as well as the usual, meat, fish and vegetable stalls. We make our way along the aisles  looking out for a suitable jug and eventually finding one after about fifteen minutes. There are also lots of mobile phone accessory shops and I try to buy a "Power Monkey", this is a back up rechargeable battery for my iPhone. Although everyone in Holland speaks English, I have to ask Graham to explain in Dutch what I am after. When I go walking, I have an application, that links Google maps to GPS and shows me where I am and where I have been. It is a great app, but very power hungry and eats the battery charge completely in about four hours, so not much use if you are out walking for a day. We have no luck, it will have to wait until I am back in England, where I can buy one on eBay. We make our way to the library, where we find Liliane and then sit in the bar and order beers, Liliane has something non alcoholic. Graham chooses the beer, which is excellent and served in flutes, that hold about a third of a litre. The beer is nicely chilled and slips down wonderfully after the hot trek round the market. We have two or three and then it is time to make our way back, in order to allow Liliane and Graham time to rest and change before dinner. As we make our way back to the tram station, the conversation somehow gets on to the subject of Gay Marriage and the opposition by the Churches in England, both Catholic and Protestant, to the bill going through the Houses of Parliament at the moment. Graham and I end up disagreeing, which is strange, because we are both liberal minded and support the bill. Our disagreement stems from the fact we have differing positions with regards to people who oppose the bill. Graham thinks such people are intolerant bigots and that one should have no truck with them, my view is that, you cannot oppose intolerance with intolerance. Somehow Father Roy gets brought into the conversation, Graham knows he opposes the bill, because he and Liliane read my blog. Father Roy's position is that the Church has to stand against moral relativism, and sees this bill as a step too far, almost the end of civilisation. I don't happen to agree with him, but he is far from being a bigot and in my experience, hugely kind with a great generosity of spirit. The discussion ends, when I point out to Graham, that he is hardly in a position to pass judgement on someone he has never met. What happens next shocks me to the core. Graham launches into a very personal attack and accuses me of habitually humiliating and belittling him. I try to reassure him that this isn't the case it is just my joking, leg pulling, manner and no offence is intended, and if any has been caused, I apologise. The row, which is one sided, dies down as we board the tram and head home, I put it down to tiredness, stress, the effect of the beer and the "usual suspect", in relations between siblings, a bit of rivalry, so let the matter pass. On our way home in the tram we are sat near two women, they look like mother and daughter, both with black hair, and the older one sporting lots of tattoos. They have also been to market and as we approach our destination, the mother's shopping bag splits and several Cantaloupes roll down the tram, which Graham and I recover for her. They are also getting off at our station and I joke with the mother as we alight, that English men like ladies with tattoos. She falls for it and asks why? And I say because they like something to read after sex! She laughs and she and her daughter get off the tram and we make our way to the car. The atmosphere between Graham and I remains a little strained, but I say nothing and hope that it will pass. Later that evening Graham drives us back into Rotterdam, to the little tapas restaurant, which lies just round the corner from the Saint Lambertuskirk, Graham and Liliane tell me that it used to be a " poor student area", but has recently become gentrified, we manage to park within fifty metres of the restaurant and walk the short distance, in the golden glow of the late evening sun. The restaurant doors are wide open, due to the heat and we are shown to a table near the door, at an adjacent table three young men are about half way through their Tapas menu. The waitress arrives and Graham suggests we order the "House Special", mixed tapas, and he also orders a carafe of house red for us and some white wine for Liliane and a large jug of iced water. The meal lasts for over two hours, with different, delicious, Tapas dishes, both hot and cold, arriving every ten to fifteen minutes or so. The food is good, the atmosphere relaxed, and Graham says he brought Melanie and his granddaughters here during their recent visit, but it wasn't exactly their cup of tea, Alex and Hannah being more used to McDonald's, in Graham's view. I like it and I can see why it is Liliane's favourite restaurant. Liliane has a dessert and Graham and I order coffee, I have a small glass of Spanish brandy with mine, which I share with Liliane. I have promised to treat them both to dinner at the "Water Tower" next weekend, on my return from Lippstadt. We had a really fabulous meal there last November when I visited. It is starting to get dark as we leave and we arrive home by about half past nine, Graham and Liliane are tired after having had a poor nights sleep, so we all turn in early.