O Eusébio

Eusebio1

Quando estávamos a viver na Rua A às Amoreiras era aquilo um beco sem saída no fundo da Rua Aviador Plácido de Abreu. Ao lado havia apenas um campo abandonado nas traseiras do quartel da Artilharia 1. Este campo onde brincava era conhecido como Campo da Aliança. Tinha-se lá jogado à bola e ainda havia havia restos de uma bancada de cimento. Foi aí que se organizou durante um par de anos uma feira popular e foi tambem aí que uma noite correu a noticia que estariam lá uns jogadores do Benfica, entre eles o tal moço que tinha vindo de Lourenço Marques, o Eusébio. Claro que o queríamos ver. Ganharam uma coisas nas rifas ou na tombola. Penso que o que iam ganhando ofereceram aos miúdos. Foi o meu primeiro encontro com o Eusébio.

Tambem visitava o meu vizinho Vicente Lucas na Praceta do Junqueiro em Carcavelos. Vimo-nos várias vezes na década se sessenta e sempre mostrou humildade e bons modos. Cacei durante esse período o seu autógrafo que aqui fica!

Ele tinha dez anos mais que eu. Durante muito tempo era Eusébio o único portugues que se conhecia fora das fronteiras de Portugal. Embora não tenha jogado naquele jogo amigável com a Inglaterra em 69 estava lá, e encontrei-o por casualidade numa loja do centro de Londres. Quando se lhe dirigia a palavra falava como se fossemos conhecidos.

Uns anos depois, já não jogava, veio integrado na comitiva do Benfica que fez o seu estágio pré época na Suécia. O treinador era o sueco Sven- Göran Eriksson. Organizou-se um jogo treino com a equipa local do Alnö. Foi e continua a ser um dos eventos desportivos mais importantes aqui realizados. Foi um agora funcionário do municipio de Sundvall que se encarregou da organização do evento. Segundo ele deu lucro e foi de facto um feito trazer áquele campito o grande Benfica. Infelizmente não estava cá por ter sido no período de férias. Tive pena e tenha a certeza que se assim não fosse teria tido a oportunidade de falar mais com o Eusébio.

Descansa em paz Eusébio!

I want, I want

 william blake I want I want

I want, I want

Oh, how I want to climb that ladder

Reach the moon.

See me, see me. Here I am!

I think I’m ready

I can see it over there.

I can make it, I can make it

The height is nothing, I’ll never fall

I will do it, I will do it

Whatever it takes, whoever I’ll break

To reach my goal.

It is mine. I want it for myself.

 

Sundsvall in the seventies

 

 http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2003/aug/27/art

Sarilhos sim senhores…

scan

Staff.

Cá estamos nós na Côte d’Azur.Passamos uma vida porreira.Fartamo-nos de roubar coisas. Espero que este postal não te cause sarilhos, bem é que foi tambem fanado, especialmente para ti. Nós devemos chegar aí dia 17 ou mais tardar dia 18.

Beijinhos Carlos, Nelson e Zé

Foi este o texto que apareceu na casa em Barnes, Londres, onde alugava um quarto à senhora Meltzer mais ou menos no dia 15 de agosto de 1969. A Sra. Meltzer, viúva de uns 65 anos, alugava quartos e tambem estava incluído na renda de 6 Libras e 6 shillings o pequeno almoço à inglesa. O que terá a Sra . pensado do postal que lhe entrou pela caixa do correio mostrando uma francesa nudista da ilha do Levant- nunca cheguei a saber.  Mas que este trio causava sarilhos, causava.

The National Team (1)

BWembley

Sweden and Portugal are set to play a decisive play-off to participate in next year’s World Cup in Brazil. Whilst trying to decide whether or not I should go to the match in Stockholm on the 19th November, I am recalling the matches I have seen live, with Portugal’s national team. My team!

First match I saw was a friendly as part of the preparation for the England World Cup of 1966. Portugal played Uruguay at the national stadium on the 26th June. José Torres scored all the three goals and my grandmother who had never seen a football match but was very keen on Eusébio felt very sorry for the Uruguayans and said that they should be allowed to score a goal.

I had moved to London in 1968 and one year later Portugal played a friendly on the 10th December 1969. England won by 1-0 after a goal by Jackie Charlton, so Portugal did not at this time revenge being knocked out of the England World Cup three years earlier.

In 1984 Portugal were in the same qualifying group as Sweden for the World Championship of 1986 in Mexico. Thanks to a late goal by Fernando Gomes Portugal could come home with a precious 1-0 victory. That match was seen surrounded by Swedes that had little or no understanding when João Oliveira and I jumped up to celebrate the goal. Much could be said of this Stockholm encounter but it is a story that will have to stand on its own.

Fate had it that Portugal and Sweden would once again play each other, this time for the European Championships. My fourth match was also in Råsunda, Stockholm, and was played on the 23rd September 1987. Even in this match Portugal came out as a winner. An early goal by defender João Pinto ( his only one, in 70 caps) was enough but neither of the two countries would reach the final phase in Germany 1988.

Before the 2004 European Championship that was organized in Portugal the National Team only played friendlies. It was on the 10th September 2003 that I saw Portugal defeat Norway by 1-0. The goal scored by Pedro Pauleta at the Oslo Ullevaal arena. Through our mobile we heard that Swedish foreign minister Anna Lindh had been knifed in Stockholm some hours earlier. Unfortunately she would no longer be with us the next day.

 

Farewell Dennis

Pollards hill

Most of us learn in time to understand that we all are different. Uncle Dennis and I did not always hit it well, but whether it was for conflicting personalities or the flow of circumstances is not important any longer. I choose today to remember you, Dennis Frith, for the man you were, and my memories attached to you.

My first encounter, that I remember, was visiting the family in the late fifties at your house in Thornton Heath. I remember that from the back window I could see a large cemetery. But most of all you made cakes at home. I believe somehow that you were beginning your successful career in the business of pastry. The smell and looks of sugar icing and whipped cream is something that no child can ignore. You were never one for hanging around chatting as I recall!

I did however get a better picture of you, when I took my big step, of starting a new life in 1968. Then, you and auntie Dot played a main role. By this time you had built up a considerable activity with several shops in the south of London and own production in what was called Frtith’s Patisserie. Your home and kitchens were in Barnes, so that’s where I came. You fixed me up with a room at Mrs Meltzer’s and gave me my first employment working at your office in Richmond. No one would ever ignore how important this was for me to start off my life as an adult.

Your favourite song was, for along time, Cliff Richard’s “Living Doll” and you did never miss an episode of the Forsythe Saga on television.

By this time you played tennis and had a passion for antiques. You were always in the look for a rare old painting and meticulously learned more. Whatever you did had a purpose and was well in line with the self made man you were. Rest in peace and thank you.

Foot note- In this picture from left to right- My grandmother Bua, auntie Dot, uncle Bernard, uncle Dennis, and my grandmother Dorothy Begernie Ineichen. Standing behind- my father João and my grandfather Joseph Ineichen. The picture was probably taken in 1951 in connection with my parents marriage on the 14 July.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gTN9NuSj43s

 

 

O 25 de abril de1974

cravo

Todos guardamos memórias daquelas em que se pergunta: O que estavas a fazer quando aconteceu tal e tal?

Essas memórias costumam ser negativas, associadas a alguma calamidade ou a algum atentado que nos marcou por tambem nos afetar direta ou indiretamente. O primeiro evento de que me recordo foi no dia 22 de novembro de 1963. Tinha 11 anos e vivia na Politécnica em Lisboa. Recordo-me dessa noticia e exactamente onde estava, que era no apartamento na Eng. Miguel Pais. Senti a apreensão e preocupação dos adultos à minha volta.Havia uma insegurança em fazer grandes alaridos pois o assassinato do presidente Kennedy era do foro das politicas.

Do mesmo tipo foi o assassinato a Olof Palme, primeiro ministro em exercicio, no dia 28 de fevereiro de 1986. Vivia já na Suécia e foi um amigo chileno que me acordou ao telefone na manhã seguinte para informar do sucedido. Pensei que fosse uma brincadeira de mau gosto, mas nesse mesmo dia organizaram-se e participámos numa manifestação de solidariedade e pesar no centro de Sundsvall.

No dia 11 de setembro de 2003 estava com a Mona em Oslo para ver a seleção nacional de futebol jogar um amigável com a Noruega. Por telemóvel chegou-nos a noticia que a nossa ministra de Negócios Estrangeiros Anna Lindh havia sido vitimada em atentado com faca numa loja de Estocolmo. Ficámos apreensivos e só no dia seguinte depois de muitas notícias contraditórias ficámos a saber que Anna não tinha podido sobreviver aos ataques  do dia anterior.

A informação que recebi dos ataques ao World Trade Centre de Nova Iorque no dia 11 de setembro de 2001 foram dados numa reunião de pais duma nova classe na escola de Katrinelund onde trabalhava na altura. Recordo-me de ter comentado se não teria sido um filme ou piada de mau gosto o que me estavam a contar.

Estas noticias, todas de cariz negativo e calamitoso só podem ser acompanhadas de uma noticia positiva. Foi de manhã no dia 25 de abril de 1974 que a minha sogra informou que estavam a correr algumas noticias sobre acontecimentos em Lisboa. Terei encolhido os ombros e recordo-me ter pensado que não devia ter sido nada de mais. Mas foi ,e terei ocasião em futuros textos de repartir convosco como os eventos foram seguidos por uma pessoa, das muitas, que não estando lá, muito gostariam de ter estado. Nascia um novo Portugal!

Find them, fuck them, forget them.

padrãoRight now I am expecting to get an answer and some news, from Gilberto, one of the three musketeers on the London mission! As everyone knows the musketeers were in fact four. Gilinho, Quim. Mané and I would perhaps rather be seen as conquerors. What sort of mission or conquest were we on, in those very first years of the seventies?

Pretty much looking for a future… All worked from early age and just as kids of any generation, meeting females was part of the essence that kept us going through thick and thin. Girls were in fact present in our lives and there was always some type of relationship going on. The teenage male image of the day, was to show that you were not really in love . The measurement of your success was rather down to how many conquests you managed to make! Or as a representative from the previous generation once said to me after being introduced to my girlfriend of the time!

– You want to follow the three F rule. – Ok, and what is that? Find them, Fuck them and Forget them! I will admit that that rule never really applied very much to me as I was more of the kind that Found, Fucked and Fell in love!

But going back to the topic in hand. Mané lives in Macau where he is in the business of selling Portuguese wines to the Chinese. Quim probably lives in Houston, Texas, but his restless spirit does not leave him put too often in any place. . Gilberto or Gilinho as we called him resides in Watertown Massachusetts. What he does I do not know as yet. As for myself I have been faithful to the small town of Sundsvall right in the middle of Sweden where I have committed myself to work for the town’s development, now in politics and previously teaching teenagers.

None of us stayed or returned to live in Portugal. In that sense we are like the millions that throughout history left Portugal following a good Portuguese tradition of “giving new worlds to the world”.  

Time for a reunion, chaps?

Goodbye Forskarbacken, hello Mornington Avenue

pass sl

Passport stamps do not lie! Because of them we know that the newlywed couple Mona and João, did not stay long in Stockholm in that cold and windy autumn of 1972. Something made Mona decide she wanted to quit University and digs at 5,Forskarbacken. She suggested we should go back to England. I did not feel that our situation was worth defending, so I agreed.

London was, after all, our hometown, together… According to the stamp, we left on the 2nd December on what I recall was a charter flight with hotel. The hotel was somewhere in the Elephant and Castle area. We got about looking for a room or flat as soon as we arrived. Eventually we moved in to Mornington Avenue. It was a small basement room, furnished and clean. There were some green bushes and grass outside the window. We were quite comfortable and even grandfather Dadda glasses and Pat came to visit.

We both went about looking for employment and we had contact with Rodolfo and Luisa just down the road.

Twenty year olds could get work those days. I registered at an employment agency and was sent to different places like a big publicity company and a council office where boring work had to be done! A new life was evolving where an old one had just been left behind!

mornington

Highly confidential police matters!

passport

To me it was all pretty straight forward. We had got married; I had my job at the Sheraton and in order to keep it, I needed to show them a permit. If memory does not fail me we went to the police station that same day, the 17th November 1972. There we were told that it was necessary to present ourselves for an interview. Swedish authorities were instructed to make sure that no marriages of convenience with the purpose of staying in the country were accepted. I learnt later that Swedish Prime Minister Olof Palme had in 1949 married to help a Czechoslovakian girl escape dictatorship in her country. It wasn’t our case, but still…

We were summoned for an interview on upcoming Tuesday the 21th November. We were asked separately a number of questions, some of more intimate character. When did we meet, how, where and had we slept with each other.

My interview was held in English and I wasn’t a bit nervous, but instead rather amused at the whole procedure. For Mona it was different. She was rather upset that her country acted suspiciously and I think she took it rather personally. Eventually the whole thing was over, we were reunited and they chatted something that I didn’t understand. Suddenly I found us out in the street, facing the cold and dark Stockholm afternoon. I was not only curious but decided to claim my right. Where was the stamp I needed? We went back in again and after some more talk I was given a stamp on my passport. It’s validity was for four days when the decision was supposed to come from the authority in charge! That did me fine! I had my stamp, so I was happy! I had also for the first time encountered Swedish bureaucracy.

Ding dong the bells that didn´t chime

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

The whole thing seemed almost surreal. Here I was in Stockholm living with Mona. We were engaged since that trip to Spain in the summer. There, I believe in Seville, we had bought our engagement rings. We had talked about getting married, but it was never a big issue.

Life in Stockholm was beginning to function in that autumn of 1972…at least for me. People struck me as unfriendly almost rude but Mona explained, in a matter of fact way, that they were Stockholmers!  We had our room near the University; I had my job at the Sheraton.  The condition put by the hotel for keeping me on was that my papers were in order! But they weren’t.

We had to get married to get my stamp on the passport. A date was set. The seventeenth of November. We were to go to the Stockholm City Hall- Rådhuset -at a given time, bring our rings and a couple of witnesses and a paper from the UK that showed I was free to marry. A certificate of no impediment!

It was a cold day, like November days in Stockholm are. It darkened early. Not the best month to get married…But we did get married that day, even if the only thing to prove it is this certificate of marriage. There are no photos of the event as witnesses, Åsa Ahlberg and Anders Hult, simply had forgotten the camera!

Well never mind…now to the police station. But that is another story.

vigselbevis