Living longer – but how ?

Doris opens her eyes. Sleepily she squints at the alarm. Oh, it is already so late and still so dark. Raindrops drum on the window panes. With this kind of weather you would rather pull the blanket over your head and not get up at all.
She feels an irritation in her throat. I do hope I shan’t fall ill is what she thinks with some worry. Had she not resolved to watch out for her health and wanted to implement her good resolution.
In spite of wind and cold she should get more exercise outside, well protected of course. Even a walk in the woods would be for her like an act of heroism, because she is so sensitive about the weather and catches a cold easily.
Mostly it starts with hoarseness. Jus imagine how terrible this could all be. She can already see herself lying in bed for days with high fever. I really must fix an appointment with the doctor, she thinks. He will surely tell me I need a rest. Yes this would be very good for her. Leave everything behind – cold, rain, frost, darkness just get away. Away to the sun – that is the solution. Even the predicted high pressure zone over the Azores cannot change her decision. Spontaneously she rings up her friend and tries to win her over for her plan. She needs all her powers of conviction and she manages it! Two weeks later both are on the road to the airport and are as happy as children about the holidays on a sunny island. They imagine the most wonderful experiences which will help them forget the day-to-day stress. Josee I’m happy that you can come with me says Doris. I wasn’t sure until now if you would withdraw.
Annemarie (Luxembourg)

Mmmmhh - chocolateMmmmmh, chocolate, what wellness !

As the legend goes, it was Quetzalcoatl, the Toltecan god of vegetation and its renewal, represented by a plumed serpent, who taught mankind how to cultivate the cocoa bushes and prepare the “tchocoatl” – a divine beverage conferring strength and health. It is here that we find the origin of the technical name of the cocoa bush: Theobroma cacao. In Greek Theobroma means “food of the gods”.

Enough of the traditional ideas!

No, chocolate will not make you fatter than any other food substances. If you don’t abuse it, it’s even good for your health. And in particular dark chocolate which contains much less sugar and fatty acids than white or milk chocolate. So that you do not notice it when you weigh yourself, you have to keep a well-balanced diet.

No, chocolate does not lead to caries. In the ranking of sweet foodstuffs, chocolate lags behind grapes, chips and even bread! In addition, cocoa contains 3 substances guaranteed as anti agents to caries: polyhydroxyphenol which stops microbes developing, fluoride which strengthens dental enamel and phosphates which attack the acids produced by sugar.

No, chocolate does not generate a liver crisis. This term is often confused with indigestion. You can have indigestion after a chocolate orgy…

No, chocolate does not give you blackheads. At present there is no medical study allowing us to confirm any link between eating chocolate and acne.

No, chocolate does not produce cholesterol. Cocoa butter consists of a balance between saturated fatty acids, responsible for “bad” cholesterol, and unsaturated fatty acids for “good” cholesterol.

No, chocolate is not bad when you feel down in the dumps. A little bar and you already feel better.

Well, are you now convinced that a good chocolate snack, without abusing it, is good for your health?

MAOUSSI (Luxembourg)

I dare

A quick look back : it’s 1998. being a member of parents’ and pupils’ association, I discover a school project in which I should like to participate. As circumstances would have it, I was employed in this establishment.

Being delighted about having daily contact with pupils between 12 &and 19 years old, I had the pleasure of being able to participate, amongst other things, in the annual concert which welded more than 300 pupils together. The 4 performances attracted an audience of about 3000.

This story of success went on 8 times until 2006 when I unfortunately had health problems. I spent a certain time abroad for my rehabilitation and on returning home to my surprise, I had become the victim of a well-known vice in our society : mobbing!

Disappointed and with death in my soul, I decided to get things going and to escape from this dead end state of imprisonment.

Useless to declare war on everybody because I have now decided at last to express myself.

I dare to say NO at the moment!
No to working conditions leading to burn out syndromes!
No to excessive work loads!
No to deadline pressure conducive to stress!
No to being directed with no sense of orientation!
No to role conflicts!
No to cynicism and sarcastic remarks!

One year on, my vital energy has returned. At last I feel free – and even liberated.

I dedicate time to my family and friends and have taken up some physical activities.

I am by no means perfect. I am simply a human being.

At last, I enjoy living again.

At last!
Maoussi (Luxembourg)

Gone to the dogs
I can remember it very well indeed. It was a gleaming lovely summer day. I was busy in the garden hanging up the washing. A car stopped just in front of the house. Our daughter alighted. At that time she had almost finished her studies in Liege. But she was not unaccompanied. With head held high he approached me. For the first I was speechless. Well, whom have you brought home? It was a large deer-brown dog which my daughter had saved from the animal home in Liege. There he was, standing there somewhat shy and gazing at me with faithful eyes. Formerly I had nothing to do with dogs but with this one, it was love at first sight.
My husband’s love for animals was until then very underdeveloped – even inexistent, so to speak. His motto was: No animal shall enter my home! It remained in force until the day when a cat with long hair and blue eyes strayed to us and decided to stay. It became our dear pussy for cuddling.
And then there was suddenly this dog, a Belgian Alsatian mixture whose name was Bobby. My husband was head over heels. In his youth he had owned an Alsatian too. Now he had Bobby. And Bobby had him. It did not, however, seem to be the cat’s cup of tea. Out of protest she moved out and stayed in the garage until her end. In the meantime our daughter had finished school, found a job and soon left home after that. The dog stayed with us. But Lydie always remained his saviour. When she came Bobby always staged an admirable and lasting dance of joy.
My husband taught Bobby everything a dog had to learn. The latter obeyed him in everything and followed him wherever he went, both becoming inseparable. Together they undertook long walks. Very often Bobby brought back a big stick from the woods with which he could play with my husband for hours on end. Bobby developed into a watchdog which safeguarded the premises and never ran off even without a fence. Only when the lady from the village came by with her white poodle would Bobby accompany both of them for a part of their way and then return home. Bobby was my husband’s hiking companion for many years until the walking tours became shorter owing to the fact that the dog became less agile and got problems with his hind legs.
Bobby never ran away but he was unable to be stopped when Love called. (He was of male gender). A little, black she-dog from the village had taken his fancy and although he was old and somewhat ill he was nevertheless attracted to her. Shortly afterwards Bobby died. This caused us all a lot of grief – especially my husband.
He had lost a faithful companion over many years.
Annemarie (Luxembourg)

TRAVEL

The journey to Bahr bela ma.

The journey to Bahr bela ma. This journey lies somewhat in the past but the recollection of it very much in the present. Since then I suppose things have changed in the sea without water. Beautiful and dangerous they said. They spoke about fascination and stressed at the same time its relentlessness against living creatures. All in all, such slogans were capable of boosting my thirst for knowledge and of enhancing my curiosity about foreign cultures. At that time I was an easy to influence adolescent who got involved in a desert adventure somewhat naïf and careless. Today’s travellers drive comfortably in convoys in special off-road vehicles equipped with gps and consider everything as being an adventure. I was looking for an adventure too at that time – forty years ago as I headed towards Tunisia officially called al-Dschumhurija at – the Republic of Tunisia. Was the travel schedule favourable? Today I very much doubt it. On leaving the pleasant, air-conditioned plane a wave of hot air engulfed me – until then for me an unknown phenomenon and my body promptly reacted to this aggression: just a few steps and I was drenched in sweat and felt numb. A mini bus belonging to the hotel took the tourist party to Monastir, the former Phoenician- roman Ruspina. The driver was an amiable gentleman from the Maghreb who had been probably instructed by the hotel management to be polite and courteous with solvent clientele. Later I was to learn that the natives were good hosts through and through and invited, with no after thoughts, people to “brique” - a thin chapatti with all sorts of edibles and served folded in two.. We did not have much time to get used to it but at least we had enough to enjoy the ceremony of drinking tea. Strong, aromatic peppermint tea is drunk at all times of the day and is also used as a medicament. The next day there was an excursion to Tunis to see Medina – the historic city and the adjacent Souk. The very fact of diving into the labyrinth of lanes with numerous stands, penetrating odours, merchants’ cries was enough to disarray your intellect. Then there was the bleating of the sheep being driven through the crowds. Later on still bleeding clumps of meat were hung up on the stands and were immediately covered by fickle scavengers. The merchant did not even bother to fan away the mosquitos and all this when the temperature was 40°!
This lulling heat lay all over the place and then there was the omnipresent sand which you inhaled with every breath. The micro fine particles annexed themselves to the beads of sweat running down your neck and were also noticed in your hair and shoes.
An unknown feeling of being dirty stole upon me. It was exactly the same with the natives but the bore it with poise and fatalism (kismet)! In the 70s president Habib Bourghiba ruled over a people consisting mainly of Arabs and Arabian Berbers. Well wishers called him a modern calif but critics think, however; he is a democratic dictator. The people’s mentality has been handed down for generations but there is also room for the western moral code. At that time nobody would have had the idea of reprimanding a tourist because she was not dressed correctly or misbehaved ( as usually happens with ignorant tourists). It is not often that tourists are interested in day to day politics or social discrepancies as long as they do not have to suffer under them. Notwithstanding, my ultimate goal was the desert – the Sahara.I wanted to see this huge sand-pit and swore one day I would experience that freedom which is described in literature and have the authentic and grandiose sky above me and I wanted to smell the odour of the desert. I wanted so much – poor me I was vanquished by the fascination of the desert long before I even felt a grain of sand! Responsible for my blindness was the archaeologist and author T.E. Lawrence who had described in his book ”The Seven Pillars of Wisdom” the desert in such a way that I just had to go there. I found what I had expected and even more. A huge glistening sandy surface, painful light and suffocating furnace heat in which not even the smallest bush could grow and promise refreshment. The continuous batter of sweat and sand grains was extremely unpleasant and in addition there was the all pervading thirst due to lack of liquids. The transport camels were the oly ones to step over the sand stoically as is their wont. Their feet are perfectly gauged to the ground hardly sinking in even when their backs are heavily laden with all our equipment whereby the water reserves were the most precious possession. A great surprise were the gigantic oscillations in temperature between day and night/ During the day it was 50° and at night the temperature fell to freezing point. There is no twilight and night falls very quickly.
We were not used to the quietness – even the animals which were active at night hunted in silence and I would really like to have seen one of these desert inhabitants. Our officially qualified guide was a true Djeffara-Berber ( you can see and admire the biggest cave village in Matmata. The former Berbers absolutely refused to move into conventional flats and the government had to capitulate). He gave us useful information and brought the journey to a satisfying end.
HOLI (Luxembourg)

On a Friday morning almost five years ago.

My colleague and I were sitting in the office anticipating no evil when we noticed them coming. Two black clouds in the shape of our regional manger and our financial director. The latter only set himself in motion when there were real problems. We therefore ducked and awaited what was to come about.

Both sat down on the opposite side of my desk. For ten years I had been the one in charge. They made me recognise they had to deliver bad news: the board had decided a few days beforehand to close our office down. At first we were speechless, then hot then cold then came the questions, why, how come, for what reason? The directors esteemed the situation as not being so good after all (whereby years before we had pleaded for a different location), yes and the turnover was not high enough – we had to achieve a minimum sales volume per head and anyway they had deliberated long enough over the issue and had come to the only possible final stipulation – to CLOSE DOWN!!!!

“And when?” – “In a week, on April 1st exactly. – “This has got to be a joke?” my colleague reiterated, “and what will happen to us if we are transferred to other offices – where shall we go to?” – “No, this is the main reason why we came personally. We have to dismiss both of you!” Immediately the pushed the dismissal in written form over the table. We were utterly amazed and bewildered.
After this there were long explanations from the directors and counter arguments from our side which brought us nowhere apart from granting time for us to take in the news. Another cherry was put on the cake when they told us the official holidays would be taken into account and therefore I had only 2.5 days to work – to Wednesday till 12.00. However, and then it came; we would not be allowed to be in the office alone any more. A colleague from the Belgian head office, whom we already knew, would be with us immediately.

The managers took their leave while we were trying to vent our anger, frustration and fear of the future. You can imagine what kind of weekend we had.

On Monday, as usual, I was in the office with the other colleague looking over my shoulder, or at least this is how I felt it. Although she tried to explain the situation to me, it was not at all easy to work. Then Wednesday came. Shortly before the end, an acquaintance wanted some advice. I noticed it was almost 12.00 and had great pleasure in advising him according to all the rules of the art. Finally I was able to book a holiday for him just as he had wished it. On taking leave of him I could do no other than tell him he was my last client for whom I had had the pleasure of having done an hour’s overtime and that the office would be closed immediately. For this deed my colleague praised me, which I could have done without but at least I was able to leave the office with my head held high and in an attempt to put together the pieces which this dismissal had shattered.
ANNABELLE (Luxembourg)

After hours ?

Knitting socks ? Crocheting bibs? Sacrificing yourself for your loved ones or not so loved ones. Enough of masochistic nonsense and now forwards, or, should I say, to the mouse! Life long learning is the magic word to make senior citizens into sharp grannies and grandpas, if they are not already in this category. Science has revealed that grey-haired knowledge potential is remarkable – it just has to be stimulated and downloaded. But seriously speaking: neuro scientists have been of the opinion for quite some time that only a minor part of our mental performance capabilities are genetically programmed, and that no general degradation occurs in old age. The capability of being able to think in old age can influence our well-being positively. Gerontologists also share the opinion that pathological ageing processes cannot be stopped but that they can be drawn out.

Life-long learning (both required and facilitated) can be an alternative. A test-run throughout Europe will support this subject. Economically speaking, this means that human capital should be kept as long as possible in order to make bequeathed knowledge available to coming generations.

Never before have senior citizens been courted in the same way as today. State, communal and private supporting organisations outbid each other with educational offers specially for the elderly (-politically correct: seniors). Moreover, there is a network of European projects in which there are dozens of forums which chant the mantra of digital technique: “being on the inside is cool”. Being online means more than “knowing it”, it also means being able to keep up with people, means not being defenceless when confronted with communication technique and last but not least, the computer offers the possibility of socialising in a virtual way when reality in this connection leaves a lot to be desired.

Life-long learning can be delightful in spite of any problems the process of ageing might have. Social scientists and demographers are striking the alarm because the biological age limit has adjusted itself upwards. The legislator reacts hectically. Seniors capable of working should be led back into the working process. Being pensioned at 67 is a mere compromise. It is planned to release the elderly from work at the age of 70. The question poses itself if only the multimorbids will be able to have their rest ahead of time.

Finally, a more recent piece of information from the European Union: a work paper with the well-sounding name “Strategy, Growth and Occupation” points out that by the year 2017 we can reckon with more elderly employees being available for the work market.
We seniors, called “ a demographic time bomb” by badly bred politicians, are making ourselves fit for the future work market e.g. by participating in numerous workshops or on the Union’s subsidised “ life-long learning”.
HOLI (Luxembourg)

Luxemburg city – also city of the roses

In general, cities show off with architecturally and historically important edifices and this city exhibits enough too cf the Adolph Brücke which was inaugurated in 1900. It is a masterpiece in stone. Another historical component of the city of Luxemburg is the palace of the grand duke, which was partly built in renaissance style, whereby you can recognise the Spanish-Moorish influence in the connecting friezes. Thanks to the monument conservators, parts of the historic city were renovated and registered in the World’s Cultural Heritage programme of UNESCO. A real treasure chest is ST; Michel’s Church with its baroque high altar from Bartholomäus Namür and its Pieta from the 17th century. The cathedral with its crypt harmonise with the old, high trees that bestow shadow in summer. On the other hand, Luxemburg is more renowned for being a financial centre and its banks are its figureheads. Currently, the steel industry which made a large part of our prosperity possible is on the decline and people have to accept restructuring measures – including mergers. Nevertheless, the bank business is booming. In former times, the city was not known for the latter- mentioned branch of the economy, but carried the name capital of the roses. The luxemburgish rose-growers were renowned for their rose variations and were even internationally unrivalled. Even oversees thy sold stems and flowers. Especially the area called Limpertsberg, situated in the outskirts of the city, was suited to a broad breeding of roses for the ground was free from buildings. (Today there still is a large area for a park with partial exotic tree population and an artistically designed pond etc). Almost every individual house at the time had a garden and the inhabitants strove for the honour of having the nicest roses which is the origin of the city so named above. Today only street names remind us of former times - names like “rue des roses” or “Rousegärtchen” (little rose garden). By taking a stroll you can see here and there wrought iron roses on protective grills or stylised flowers as ornaments on house walls.. In the course of time, breeding roses has slipped into oblivion - one of the reasons being selling building land is more lucrative than selling flowers. Recently, however, people are thinking about the old tradition. The LCTO LUXEMBURG CITY TOURIST OFFICE offers a pedestrian circuit through Limpertsberg to get to know historical sights and lovely gardens. In an attractive manner this circuit is called RosaLi – the roses of Limpertsberg.

HOLI (Luxembourg)

Traditions, customs, feasts

How do we celebrate Christmas in Luxemburg and at our home?
On the 1st of Advent i.e. 4 weeks before the 25th of December, elaborate light decorations are hung on the leafless, bare trees or on street posts. All over the place illuminated windows as well as pine trees decorated with lights in the front gardens of the houses delight us. The many lights help us to bridge over the dark winter and shorten the time till spring. On the house fronts and climbing up to the balconies you can see myriads of Santa clauses. In very many villages they hold traditional Christmas markets, making it easier for us to choose and buy presents. In the small log cabins they offer hand-made candles, balls for the Christmas trees, Advent wreaths and a lot of little presents and souvenirs. They make us feel good by offering us mulled wine, pepper cake and other things for our sweet tooth. For us the most important thing is the Christmas meal. On Christmas Eve we eat traditionally a mixed salad with pate, warm quail legs and roasted pine kernels which are served with a dry Mosel wine. On Christmas Day (Dec 25th) our family sits round a Chinese Fondue consisting of a broth which our grandmother made the day before. It is enriched with soya beans, Chinese cabbage, Chinese mushrooms and ginger. The raw meat and fish are dipped into the hot soup and cooked as you wish. It is a meal which is easy to digest and even our almost 5 year old grandson Simon was vary happy and laughed when his grandfather lost the fish in the soup. After our Christmas meal Simon can get the presents from under the richly decorated Christmas tree and distribute them to the convivial family members. A self baked Christmas stolen crowns this nice family festivity every year.

Maoussi (Luxembourg)

Waiting for St. Nikolaus

In Luxemburg children received and still receive present on the 6th of December. As a little girl I had a favourite doll called “PEPPI” of celluloid, with “true” blue eyes and a painted silver-blond earl-curl hair style. Every year about 3 weeks before the 6th of December, Peppi disappeared. Although I initiated a huge search and got on everybody’s nerves with my questions, she was nowhere to be found and I was, as you can image, rather sad and angry. Even my mother had a hard time trying to comfort me, but promised over and over again that I would soon find her in her doll’s bed. I had to keep out of mischief and St. Nikolaus would help me. This seemed very strange to me because every year it was the same game. The last couple of days before St. Nilolaus day I put my slippers at the door and always found some sweets in them; Only, there was no trace of Peppi! I did hope that St. Nikolaus would not forget me nor my doll, for should I wish other presents, they would never be able to replace Peppi. Full of expectations I went to bed on December 5th. I tried not to fall asleep so that I could surprise Nikolaus when he visited our house. In the end, being exhausted my eyes did close. In the early morning wide awake again, I didn’t bother getting ready but dashed in my pyjamas down the stairs into the kitchen ( the only room in the house which was heated in the early morning) and surprise the whole table was covered with presents and sweets for us three children. But nicest of all was the doll’s bed at my table place for in it lay Peppi! My goodness! She was really well dressed up. She had new clothes on, stockings and shoes. Even her bedclothes were brand new and beside her bed there were other sets sewn and knitted in fitting colours. It was breathtaking and I was so happy that I quite forgot for a long moment to look at the other presents. Till deep into the night my mother had sewn and knitted for Peppi. And every year on St; Nikolaus day Mama’s eyes turned shiny when she saw my joy over the return of Peppi.

LOLO (Luxembourg)

The house of the future or dreaming is allowed.

My husband and I worked together for many years in order to make our dream of having a homestead come true. Two children grew up in it and it also harbours my beloved mother. Until today we have been living very much satisfied within our four light-flooded walls. Constructed in 1989, our house was equipped with the necessary comfort: spacious rooms, central heating, an open fireplace in the living room, a flat for mother and an extended attic where the children could lark about. Yes, we had even thought about roller blinds with a built-in time switch and an electric sun canopy. With these things, we had laid a solid basis for a happy and life long togetherness.

But we had not reckoned with the innovative and slightly futuristic enterprises presenting us with the house of the future 2007. From the outside, it looked just like our traditional detached house but behind the façade, there appeared a galactic house technology of infinite dimensions.
Behind bright fair faced concrete walls we find ourselves in the “Event Hall”; a long drawn out counter above which there are flat screens let into the wall – testifying to a Microsoft Network joining all the computers, telephone and screens in the building together through the help of electro magnetic waves. Wireless news about events, the restaurant menu – everything is possible.
Self opening doors, automatic light switches and roller blinds that “think” all belong to everyday life. Photovoltaic modules assure the electric current supply. The information and communication technology makes the mirror in the bathroom speak, an LCD TV saves us from getting bored while having a shower. In the living room, we are welcomed by a hi-fi system combined with a flat screen which is so big you need a delivery van to transport it. Wireless technology will read the bar code on food. When a housewife holds a packet of Italian noodles under the scanner of her electronic pin board, her computer depicts several ways to prepare them. If she wishes, the lady of the house can start a video in which a good-humoured TV Chef shows what you can do with a packet of noodles.
The age of intelligent habitation has therefore already dawned, but will we still have interpersonal relationships in our families in the future?

Maoussi (Luxembourg)

Living longer… but how ?

If you want to live longer – this is a meaningful question.
How you would like to live depends on many factors even on external circumstances on which a normal citizen has no influence. Even although beginnings have already been made, we are still very far from being a participating society.
Many people have now understood that solving future problems needs more than a mere ideology of progress which proved to bring us nothing other than the destruction of nature, unhealthy air pollution, water and ground contamination, culpable climate change and last but not least, a loss of fauna.
HOLI (Luxembourg)

Daily routine earlier and now

For the last twenty years of my professional life I worked as an administrative assistant in IT management. I was in charge of the time contracts of IT employees from the date of their entry and their invoices up to the date of departure. For me it was an interesting activity which I liked a lot because I had dealings with people and at the same time could work independently.

Because of my work my family life was rigorously organised. When my two daughters were small and went to the village school, there were no nurseries and only after a long search did I find Somebody to look after our children at home for six years. During this time outside of our work my husband and I renovated an old house with a large garden and we could not complain that we did not have enough work. All four of us were only able to see each other in the evenings and at the weekends and for one month in the summer holidays.

It was too much, for about 7 years ago both of us fell ill. At that time the girls were in Germany at university and therefore not at home for most of the time. Shortly afterwards my husband had to retire at 56 and the same happened to me half a year later at the age of 53.

There we were sitting alone at home. We had come down from 150% activities to about 30% and that almost overnight. The first year retirement was quite good – we did enjoy it – not to have to get up early, no more stress on the motorway or with the colleagues and to be free to decide who was going to do what and when etc. My husband’s health condition improved afterwards so that he felt a little under demanded. Unfortunately I myself was and still am ill. But even then I still could not cope with this easygoing rhythm.

This is why we started up again our hobbies or looked for new ones – sometimes each individually sometimes together. Our daily routine was restructured in a stricter way. We made new contacts, for the previous work colleagues as acquaintances did not stand the test of time! I am going to try to expand these contacts and hobbies. It is my goal to learn new things despite my illness, to meet people with whom I can dialogue and to support sensible projects so that I can look at every week and say: I’ve managed this and that this week and I like it.

LOLO (Luxembourg)

My story
I was born on a cold winter’s day in the middle of the second world war in a small village in Luxemburg. I was born at home and it was a difficult birth as I refused for a long time to come into this crazy world and it almost cost my mother her life. At the time she was labouring her brother was conscripted. In this way my new uncle was recruited under coercion and posted to the Russian front by the German army. If he had not complied with the order and gone into hiding the whole family would have suffered for it and would have been displaced. My uncle returned home without his left hand but with a lot of courage to face life. With a great deal of optimism he managed to master his later life but never really spoke about these horrible years. He was always my favourite uncle Emil. Unfortunately, he died when he was just 48 years old. I grew up in this small, remote village with no bus or train connections and very very few cars. The only thing we had was pure nature: meadows and fields, bushes and trees, cows, horses, pigs, geese, rabbits, dogs a number of cats and in summer many swallows. Just imagine this sleepy village with about 150 inhabitants, craftsmen, workmen, some civil servants and farmers with impressive homesteads and a number of helpers; male and female farm labourers, day labourers and a large herd of cattle. There were not many machines to help at that time so people had to use their muscular strength when working in the fields. Even the children had to help as a matter of course: droving the cows and bringing them home, gathering wood and briquettes, feeding the rabbits and helping with the work in the fields. It was great fun helping with the hay harvest. But it was strenuous. You sweated and got a dry throat. For this we got water mixed with vinegar to drink which quenched our thirst quite well. This nicest thing for us children was to be able to be enthroned up high on the hay cart and watch our little world from above. I absolutely loved the incomparable smell of fresh hay which accompanied me all through my childhood. Our school was placed in the village centre. It consisted of a corridor, a classroom above which there was a teacher’s flat and outside, round the corner the toilets. The incomparable smell which adhered to the village schools in those days I could sniff again by just remembering the scene. The smells of oiled, wooden floors, leather schoolbags and the sometimes dense smoke spouting from the great big black heater in the middle of the classroom mixed themselves with the village odours which varied depending on the direction of the wind and the season – the smell of freshly mown grass, hay, dunghill and manure (available all year round) or the sweet-sour swathes from the distillery nearby. Our playground was a place on the opposite side of the street where we played mostly dodgeball all together. We also used to like “ Fox you stole the goose” and similar games.In our school eight classes were taught. On the old wooden benches the boys sat on the right hand side and the girls on the left hand side – like at church. Our school mistress was a strict person with a perm, a hooked nose, a high-necked dress and a red neck when she got angry. She seemed to be timeless – was neither young nor old but she could not have been much older than 30. She had us well under control and out of respect for her we never dared to play too many stupid pranks. She taught us children a great deal. When I was there the number of pupils was 25. In previous years it had been even more. To box through 8 different syllabi you had to be competent and everybody had more than enough to do.I remember the reward for small children rather well. We called it “sugar finger”. On the top shelf of the cupboard there was a glass with fine granulated sugar. We wetted our finger well with saliva and then dived it deeply into the glass of granulated sugar. It tasted wonderful. Unfortunately they abolished it later and replaced it with a pink “good mark”. I have to admit that you could not compare the taste. I liked going to school and had no difficulties learning with the exception maybe of music. In those days music meant the teacher’s flute and your own voice. Before Christmas each one of us had to sing solo. I practised daily at home. For the test I sang devotedly “ a star rose in the eeeeast, three kings saaaaaw iiiiit”. I sang extremely loudly and, as I thought, rather well. The brutal words of my teacher soon brought me back to reality:” Sit down! Suzette will now sing us this song correctly.” And I had really tried hard and practised a lot. Suzette did not need to bother much because she could sing. In this way my teacher nipped my possible career as a singer in the bud. This lies back 55 years and all through my schooling musical education retained a bitter aftertaste and cost me quite an effort. In our village there were in those days a church, a church house onto which our school was built, a general store, 2 pubs, a cobbler, a dairy and the local fire brigade. The baker came twice a week and once a week the fat man with his green van selling fruit and vegetables. Nevertheless most of the inhabitants were self supporters. Everybody had a vegetable garden with different berry bushes and fruit trees. Especially in autumn everybody boiled down to preserve and conserve as much as possible. At Christmas time I exceptionally got oranges from the fat greengrocer. I found them terribly sour and did noy like them at all, even although my mother told me they were sooo healthy and contained sooo many vitamins. The hub of the village was the shop. The proprietor was “Noutemestatta”, as she was called by everyone, an elderly Miss Anna with asthma and other health problems and who often lay dying but miraculously convalesced and lived to a ripe old age. Her business was the hub of our village and was the meeting point for the female sex right in the middle of it. There you could buy your daily food and also stockings, underwear, aprons, buttons and thread and a restricted choice of linen, drapery and wool. People met there to exchange news, have a chat and sometimes gossip. There recipes were exchanged and well- meant advice given. In those days a lot of food was sold loosely, filled into a paper bag and weighed. I can still remember how the little bottle of Maggie was regularly refilled and also the mustard into the glass with the shiny lid.For us children the main point of attraction was the choice of sweets. Sometimes we were able to buy some of the delights: for one franc the soft, pink “bacon” or “Mokuch”(liquorice) that black piece of string rolled up to a wheel and from which you got a wonderfully black tongue which you then had to show.

Annemarie (Luxembourg)

Aunt Marie

My aunt Marie was a rather striking person. She was born 20.11.1914 as the second youngest of 7 children in a small village. Her house lay a little remote at the edge of the woods so that she did have a certain distance to the middle of the village, to school and to church. She had to, as was the case in those days, work even in young years to earn a living, and all her live she worked long and hard.
Marie was a witty optimistic and dynamic woman and had a wonderfully contagious laugh. Her husband, my uncle Jhos, was exactly the opposite: quiet, complacent, patient and staid.
At that time she was the only woman among my acquaintances who drove a moped. At the age of 50 she passed her driving licence. She did not succeed the first time but did not let herself get discouraged. From that time on she always roared by in her red car.
She was also very good at handicrafts. I remember again the nice pink pullover with the dark rabbits which she knitted for me when I was 7 years old and which I still wanted to wear even after I had grown out of it.
Aunt Marie was a fearless, honest woman with both feet on the ground. She always tried to make the best out of every situation and never complained. At the age of 38 her sole daughter died of cancer and left three small children, the youngest being 4 years old. Marie adopted her small granddaughter Conny and provided for her – Kindergarten, games, later school, learning, cooking – the whole programme. At the time she was 64 and stayed young and flexible. At the age of 12 Conny returned to her father and her siblings to visit the secondary school.
Now Marie was alone again. Her husband had died shortly after the daughter – alone in the house with the big garden with the wonderful flowers and fruits. I do not know why, but strawberries never tasted anywhere else so good as at aunt Marie’s.
Up to a ripe old age she took care of her garden without help from outside: she dug, planted, cut trees and bushes, mowed the lawn and cooked delicious jam. She was a real bundle of energy and I should have taken after her in part as I now shamefully admit. Neither did she need any help at home. At the age og 89 she even painted the kitchen ceiling. When I asked startled: Did you climb up the ladder? She replied: “Oh, it was only a little one, a small set of steps. I couldn’t look at the dirty ceiling any longer!”

Three years ago she was in hospital. She was very ill and looked bad. I was very much afraid she would never get well again. During this time her granddaughter Conny looked after her with devotion.
But Marie had an untameable will to live and soon afterwards she was almost her old self. The garden was reduced and she did not trim the bushes any more But she knitted covers for the lepers. She had knitted a great deal during her life. And she continued to visit her acquaintances in the old folks’ home who were much younger than herself. She still drove her car until she was 90 years old. With no accident! The doctor wanted to prolong her driving licence. She said to me: “You have to be reasonable. At 90 you don’t belong on the street any more. I’ve sold my car now!”
Aunt Marie still looked good at 90. She did not look like an elderly woman. She had remained young at heart.
She died a year ago at the age of 91 after a short stay in hospital, exactly the day before she had drunk champagne with the doctors and nurses at the Christmas festivity.
Annemarie (Luxembourg)

She-cat Milli, He-cat Maxi

People in our family are almost all cat-fans. For 17 years, I owned a grey cat, Bella. When she died, I did not want any other cat; I had grown so accustomed to her, never to imagine being able to replace her by another one. But you should never say NEVER...

In autumn 2005, my daughter’s mother in law found two tiny little cats on her terrace, starved, sick and more dead than alive. With the help of the veterinary, she took care of the two and after 2 weeks, they were in a state of health, where she coud start looking for a new home for them. Giving in to my daughter’s urging, we went to visit them one day. I should not have done this! The very moment, when that tiny tigercat looked into my eyes, I was lost! More so even, when her little pitchblack brother-cat came running towards us, miaouwing loudly for our attention.

Ever since that day, those two cats form part of our family. From that handfull of nearly living furr, they have grown to beautiful, healthy cats. Milli is a little beige-black tigered furrball, with grassgreen eyes. She is catching everything with wings in our garden, from bees to butterflies, to dragonflies and birds. Maxi, the tall and high-legged black cat with yellow eyes, is the appointed mouser. He loves to bring them inside underneath the dining table. Of course I take away living prey and put them into liberty, but sometimes I have to dispose of dead animals, too.

As both cats are only little over a year old, they love to play. Milli likes to run after knitting wool, but her favorite play is with “Wires”, i.e. little remains of colored, coiled wires used in modelbuilding. You throw those at her and off she goes, chasing after and finally burrying them under the carpets. Each time I am supposed to vacum-clean, I have to dig for the wires first, sometimes I find more than 10, 12!

Maxi likes to play football and catchball with little rubberballs. He also brings them back to us in his mouth.

While I am writing this, Milli sits on my lap and enjoys the heating of the computer. She also likes to chase the cursor on the screen.

But our greatest pleasure is, when we retire into our livingroom chairs, we do not stay alone for very long. And so, most of our reading- or TVwatching-evenings end up with each one of us having a purring cat on our lap.

LOLO (Luxembourg)

At work...., hard work, but so friendly teachers!

Welcome to our blog in English

From the left to the right you see

Christiane, Annie, Lily, Erik, Annie D., James, Leonie