The ninety-five-year-old can still read, but likes to have someone read to her, especially four-point type cooking instructions in pink out of red on food packages, for example. Oddly enough SBS foreign language film subtitles are no trouble at all to her. She reads along perfectly but still has the sound at top volume presumably so the next-door neighbours can have a French lesson.
A letter arrived yesterday. I read it for her. It was from an old friend in Germany; probably of a similar age, maybe a little younger, a mere octogenarian perhaps. The card inside was printed with a snow-capped alpine village scene and a greeting in a similarly snow-capped Jena Gotisch font which read: und ein gutes neues Jahr.
'Dear Mary ...' the letter accompanying the card began. At some length the correspondent wrote of ' ... a weekend walk with my friend Otti in the Sauerland ... ', and a page later, of planning a festive meal:
' ... I bought two kilos of beef. I put it into a marinade of vinegar, water, red wine, onions and many spice. The meat has to rest in the marinade for 10 days. Then I can frie (sic) the "Sauerbraten". The whole house will have the scent of it. Usually I open the window because of the scent. And usually my neighbours accuse me of "mental torture" ... (but) I am going to keep it for Christmas, as I have invited some friends. We are going to have a great meal with dumplings and red cabbage ... and (afterwards) we usually play Scrabble for hours.'
Torturing her neighbours in Dortmund? I can smell it from Australia.
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