Tag Archives: Van de Poll

Three

4 Jul

Mondrian's tryptych

I have always been a fan of Piet Mondriaan’s work. His triptych ‘Evolution’ was painted in 1910 before the Great War and was his response to the idea that a knowledge of God could come about through intuition alone (Theosophy) because we, ourselves are part of a universal creative force.

I used to visit ‘Evolution’ at the Gemeentemuseum in The Hague with my Oma Hartje as a boy. Like all good grandparents she was a profound influence on my early years and  I guess she opened my eyes to the symmetry of ‘threes’, a love of the colour blue with a dash of yellow or orange and the delights of ‘people watching’.

My other Dutch grandparent, Jhr C.A. Van de Poll, taught me how to play chess, he was immensely strong and he liked driving sports cars. Three pretty important things for a boy.

I always believed he could drive a screw into timber using only his thumb nail  until I realised he concealed a small coin between forefinger and thumb. He was a bit of a joker.

Opa had a strong connection to three too, for upon his family crest there are three diamonds.

Poll-wapen

I remember accompanying Opa, my mother and brother to a specialist jeweller where, with great ceremony he declared that she was to have her own signet ring specially made for her.

She chose a blood stone. Her father said to her: “You are the only person in my family worthy of the title ‘Knight’. You are the bravest and boldest of us all”. No small accolade from a self professed, old school Chauvinist.

My mother was indeed more of a ‘man’ than any bloke I have ever met. As hard as nails, super clever, an artist.

She forged my rational mind, encouraged me to be observant, and taught me self sufficiency. Sharp.

Yet no blade has utility without a haft. My father was the handle upon which my existence turned. He gave me my handiness, my daft sense of fun and my unquiet mind.

This month I will have been on this planet for 60 years. “Nothing but a fart in eternity” my mother would have said.

When I asked my father what he wanted for his birthday he said “To wake up son, to wake up”.

Some years ago, my wife said to me “I’m an orphan now” when both her parents passed away in the same year. One of my clients put it another way – he described the feeling of losing both parents as “like having the roof blow off one’s house”.

I am beginning to understand their point of view.

But we do we really lose our parents when they are both gone? Is there not a trinity for each of us?

In the Christian pantheon The Holy Trinity (a triptych sine qua non),  summarises the relationship between God – The Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost:

Trinity summary

The parent is father to the child, who through the spirit is father again.

And long before this paternalistic hubris was formulated, the ‘three’ was symbolically potent in pagan folklore which is fundamentally female; as the Virgin, Mother and Crone, summarised in the triskelion. Parthenogenesis – virgin birth.

trinity-knot-2

The ‘orphan’ realises that when the roof blows off because there are no physical parents left, it is then that she/he becomes parent to themselves.

 

From this inheritance we understand the meaning of Spirit, and the need to show it.

Yamaguchi

 

Touch

21 Jan

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There is nothing quite as empowering as having a beautiful woman slip her arm into yours whilst going for a stroll in the park.

My daughter Polly is named after her grandmother, Adriana Van de Poll. It was mam’s nickname when she served as an air hostess in the 1950’s with KLM.

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Mam passed away on the 7th of January 2015, aged 83. She had led a most eventful, some might say remarkable life.

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Like the Lockheed Super Constellation she flew in with her glamorous crew in the 1950’s, she was an elegant, long distance flier.

I can tell you the facts. Mam was born in Leiden, Holland, to Haartje (nee De Boer) and Cornelius Van de Poll on Valentine’s Day 1931. She grew up in the jungles of Sumatra on a rubber plantation with an older brother, Henk and a younger sister Heleen. Then in 1942, on her eleventh birthday, the Japanese invaded what was then, the Dutch East Indies. Mam became a prisoner of war. She spent four years supplemententing her family’s meagre diet by chopping wood and digging graves in the most appalling conditions. Her dad survived the Burma Railway line, her mam another camp, her brother Henk, torture. After returning to Holland at 15 she had a patchy formal secondary education and eventually graduated to Domestic Science College in her late teens.

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Henk, her brother died aged 19 whilst her parents were abroad. Mam attended to his funeral.

One day in Amsterdam whilst she was at Domestic Science College she was inspired by the sight of a KLM Air Stuardess in uniform, she decided that was the job for her, and spent the next three years as an au pair learning new languages: English in Surrey with a Vicar and his wife, German in a ruined Berlin with a Count, French on a farm with a huge family and a smattering of Italian. She flew long haul flights to Jakarta, Saudi Arabia and Nigeria and, in Lagos, bumped into a Yorkshireman, David Littlewood on the dance floor.

They married in Jos, Nigeria (her given name was ‘Jos’ – a story for another time perhaps) and I was produced on July 22nd in Kano, northern Nigeria in 1958. My brother Tim was born in 1961 in Ghana. Mam and Dad were a popular couple, throwing fantastic parties (like ‘Spend a night in Gaol’, or ‘Launching a new Newspaper’).

Mam came home on leave with Tim and I to a house in Matlock in 1964. Dad stayed in Ghana. She had to bring me back to England for my health – I had contracted cerebral malaria twice, typhoid and rheumatic fever . I would not have survived any longer in the Gold Coast. Dad needed to work and had a very good job with UAC in West Africa. They separated and then divorced.

Mam managed to blag her way into Teacher Training College in Matlock in 1965 having had very little formal education thanks to the Camp. She trained for three years as an Art/Textiles teacher, becoming Head of Textiles at Mortimer Wilson School two years after qualifying supporting Tim and I through school and University.

The last thing Mam said to me as I held her hand was; “Henk, you have to decide what you are going to do, and what you are not going to do”.

It is a sweet irony that in the last years of her life, blind and succumbing to dementia mam sometimes confused me with my dad calling me David. It was in those last, close, intimate moments of her drifting in and out of the world that I realised how deeply she had loved him.

So what I have decided I am ‘going to do’ is this sort of caper:

Sewing

What I have decided I am ‘not going to do’, is not bother you, dear reader, or anyone else with trivia. We don’t have enough time – just touch.

Down Under