Hopsadaisy – Marta is crazy!
She used to say that – wenn sie mit dem Hinterreifen über den Randstein geholpert ist, zum Beispiel. Sie hatte recht. Sie war ein bisschen verrückt, manche würden sagen – ein bisschen sehr verrückt ;) - sie war auch eine sehr gute Zuhörerin, eine wunderbare Gesprächspartnerin, eine phänomenale Tante, ein außergewöhnlicher Mensch.
Als Kind haben mich ihre Mitbringsel begeistert. Die Scherzartikel, die sie zu jedem Familienbesuch mitgebracht hat: eine Milchpackung die muht, ein Ring der brummt, wenn man jemandem die Hand gibt. Sie hat eine ganze Tasche davon gehabt. In meiner Phantasie hat London hauptsächlich aus Scherzartikelgeschäften bestanden. Es war SO cool eine Tante in London zu haben! Zurück ist sie immer mit Käsekrainern und Weinflaschen im Handgepäck geflogen.
Meine erste erwachsene Erinnerung an sie habe ich als ich sie mit 15 in London besucht habe, zum Englisch lernen. Dieser Monat in London – in King Edwards Gardens – war einer der schönsten in meinem Leben. Pub Quiz Dienstag Abends: Ich durfte meinen ersten Shandy kosten. Ich hab nicht mal die Fragen verstanden, aber Marta hat jedesmal darauf bestanden, dass ich eine große Unterstützung gewesen bin, und dass sie ohne mich noch weniger Punkte gemacht hätten. Für eine 15jährige eine sehr wichtige Ermutigung! Ich hab mich so erwachsen gefühlt.
Am Abend sind wir oft bei einer Tasse gutem englischen Tee (selbstverständlich mit Milch – seither trinke ich Tee mit Milch) zusammengesessen und haben geredet. Über die Zukunft, die Vergangenheit, unsere Träume. Dabei haben wir mit Nelken Muster in Orangen gesteckt weil sie überzeugt davon war, dass sie die zu Weihnachten am Markt verkaufen wird. Ich hab in dem Monat eine Orange geschafft, Marta zwei. Ich glaub, sie hat sie nicht verkauft. Sie hat sie selbst aufgehängt im Haus. Dafür hat sie andere Geschäftsideen umgesetzt: Schmuck und Silber am Carboot Sale kaufen und am Picadilly Market weiter verkaufen.
Als sie mich dann zum Flughafen gebracht hat sind wir durch den Stadtverkehr von London gehetzt, weil wir vieeeel zu spät weggefahren sind. Ich hab das Flugzeug nur joggend, den Koffer durch ganz Heathrow nachziehend, erreichen können.
Sie hat darauf bestanden mit 60 noch ein Haus zu bauen. Im Waldviertel. Und es ist ein schönes Haus geworden. Sie hat nur kurz darin gewohnt.
Marta ist am 11. September 2009 gestorben. Sie wär heuer 67 geworden, und es hätte bestimmt eine Party gegeben, wär da nicht der Krebs dazwischengekommen.
Wir werden dich vermissen, Marta. Wir vermissen dich jetzt schon.
Tags: Marta
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September 13th, 2009 at 5:33 pm
Liebe Irene
des is sehr toll – die seite
Da kommt ein lautes lachen über ihren Orangen-Nelken-Verkauf auf (Sie war wirklich überzeugt, 100e zu verkaufen – dann hat man so viel geld, daß man das auch in Indien – oder in Hausarbeit produzienen kann -> billiger -> noch mehr…)
Zum schreiben bin i glaub i net so geeignet, aber ich werde dir viele geschichten erzählen von der ata – wenn du zurück bist. Da mischen sich die Tränen vom Lachen und Weinen.
liebe grüße
peter
September 13th, 2009 at 9:04 pm
Die “Kinder” können sich ja nicht erinnern, aber ich bin überzeugt, dass sich Fritz, Gabo und Peter an die Story vom glatzerten, rothaarigen Karl-Sepp erinnern werden (Marta nur an die Story, nicht an den karl-Sepp). Es ist sehr schwer, es nachzuerzählen, aber wir haben eine ganze Nacht Tränen gelacht.
September 14th, 2009 at 1:58 pm
hehe
eine sehr klare erinnerung an sie warn die ohrringe die sie bei einem “clan meeting” getragen hat. silberne fischgräten. ich war so fasziniert als sie mir erzählt hat, dass sie die selber abgeknabbert hat.
das tee mit milch trinken hat sie mir auch beigebracht.
und “nehmt mich mit!”-schreiend am schwanzteil vom bereits startenden flugzeug zu hängen, weil wir viel zu spät losgefahren sind und unterwegs noch after eight besorgt haben, ist auch eine erinnerung, die wir teilen ;)
vermutlich können wir das von ihr lernen: ein bisschen “crazy like marta” zu sein, ideen und träume zu haben, manchmal kräftig dabei zu scheitern und dann neue ideen und träume ausbrüten. und wenn man die orangen nicht verkauft, es hat riesigen spaß gemacht, sie zu machen. it was totally worth it ;)
September 15th, 2009 at 12:49 am
Liebe Irene,
schön ist diese Seite – und berührend – danke Dir!
…
Marta war die erste, die ich aus Peters Familie kennenlernen durfte – ich denk, es war im Sommer 1986, dass wir bei ihr in London waren …
der “Draht” zwischen uns war gleich da…
und er ist im Laufe der Jahre immer noch stärker geworden.
Ich kenne sowohl ihre quirrlige, überschäumende Seite – die, die sie so oft der Welt gezeigt hat -
und weiß noch, wie verblüfft ich anfangs war, was sie alles “phatastisch” fand und was alles sie zu Begeisterungsstürmen beflügelt hat (hätte ihr ums Haar daraufhin mal was “Blödes” gekauft – hätte mich Peter nicht “aufgeklärt”, dass das nur so eine Redewendung ist, die keinerlei Bedeutung hat…)
- aber ich kenne auch ihre “stille”, ihre “tiefe” Seite -
die hab ich ganz besonders gemocht -
wir haben – vor allem in den letzten Monaten – oft und lang miteinander telefoniert – dabei haben sich oft unsere Seelen berührt …
Wir sind gemeinsam abgetaucht in Tiefen und wieder aufgetaucht -
Wir wollten sogar in Roggenreith gemeinsam noch ein Rollstuhlrennen machen …
dazu ist es leider nicht mehr gekommen.
Eines aber ist gewiss: unsere Verbundenheit wird bleiben – für immer.
September 15th, 2009 at 10:04 am
Ich weisz noch, als ich das erste Mal bei der Marta zu Besuch war, hat Sie mich aus Oesterreich abgeholt. Als wir ueber dem Aermelkanal waren hat sie gesagt: “Jetzt sind wir bald in England, da wird nur Englisch geredet”, Irgendwo in der Mitte ueber dem Kanal haben wir dann entschlossen, dass das jetzt schon englischer Luftraum ist und wir jetzt nur noch Englisch reden und kein Deutsch mehr verstehen “ENGLISH PLEASE!”
Am Flughafen hab ich mich dann gefragt, mit welchem Auto die Marta wohl fahren wuerde, Combi, Coupe… Es war ein roter Ford Fiesta “WLD” also “WILD”, das war sein Name. Das Auto war schon ziemlich alt und die Fahrt ueber eine Temposchwelle, war eine Berg- und Talfahrt. Besonders beruehmt war die Marta auch fuer ihren, wie sie es selbst nannte “special trick”, der daraus bestand, bei einer leichten Erhebung die Handbremse anzuziehen, Gas zu geben, Handbremse zu loesen und ueber die Erhebung hinwegzuhopsen. Ich wollte das damals unbedingt lernen.
Heizung und Autoradio funktionierten nicht. Oft, wenn ich fragte, ob wir dies oder das einschalten konnten, bekam ich als Antwort: “Doesn’t work”. Sie musste jedes Mal lachen, wenn Sie das sagte.
Mit WILD hatte sie, nachdem sie mich zum Flughafen brachte einen Autounfall, weil ihr jemand hinten drauf fuhr. Sie besorgte sich ein neues Auto, einen neuen Ford Fiesta, diesmal weisz und mit den Buchstaben TRX im Kennzeichen, das war TRIX.
Heizung und Autoradio funktionierten wieder nicht, aber das Autoradio wollte sie reparieren lassen.
Besonders auffaellig war in diesem Auto ein groeszeres, weiszes Kaestchen, das auf die Blende ueberm Beifahresitz gklemmt war. Ich wunderte mich, ob das eine Taschenlampe war, denn die Front von dem Kaestchen war milchfarben, wie bei einer Lampe. Als ich Marta fragte, ob das eine Lampe sei, sah Sie mich verdutzt an und fragte mich, wieso ich das glaube; ich antwortete, dass das Licht beim Auto vielleicht nicht funktioniert und sie deshalb ein extriges Licht braucht. Darauf meinte Sie: “Ach, so ein Bloedsinn, natuerlich funktioniert das Licht bei meinem Auto.” Wir lachten beide.
September 15th, 2009 at 4:57 pm
Bertolt Brecht sagte einst: “Der Mensch ist erst wirklich tot, wenn niemand mehr an ihn denkt.”
Wie man sieht etwas, dass unserer lieben Marta nicht passieren wird. Noch Jahre später wird man an einem Tisch sitzen und sagen: “Wisst ihr noch, wie die Marta mit dem Moped ihn die Hecke gefahren ist?” oder “Wissts noch wie die Marta dem Fritzi zum 40. Geburtstag beim gratulieren mit einem ihrer lustigen Scherzartikel einen eletkrischen Schlag verpasst hat?”
Ich werd die Sachen nie vergessen, auch wenn ich einerseits nicht dabei war, andererseits noch etwas klein war. Aber in meinem eigenen kleinen Mikorkosmos hab ich die Bilder immer noch vor Augen. Wenn die Marta da war, gab`s immer was zu lachen. Deswegen fällt es auch schwer, zu weinen. Denn jedesmal wenn ich an die Marta denk, mir wieder was lusiges einfällt und mir ein Grinsen ins Gesicht zaubert.
Die Marta war essenzieller Bestandteil unserer Erziehung. Wie der Irene brachte auch mir die Marta per Shandy das Bier trinken bei (”Das schmeckt fantastisch, nicht?”). Wie Fabian durfte auch ich in den Genuß ihres “Special Tricks” kommen. Auch wenns bei uns nicht der Ford war, sondern ein prall gefüllter Van auf dem Weg zum Car-boot-sale. Auf die Frage, warum sie über die “Hubbel” springt kam die lapidare Antwort: “Ist ja nicht mein Auto, nicht?” Wie Ilse kann ich mich noch viel zu klar an die silberenen Fischgräten erinnern. Einmal war ich mit Marta Schuhe kaufen (”Die sind doch fantastisch, nicht?”). Wir haben selten so gelacht wie damals, als marta mir im Stile eines Top-Models immer wieder neue Schuhkreationen vorführte.
Marta und Fußball sind zwei Dinge, die auf den ersten Blick nicht ganz zueinander passen. Doch man nehme ein Videoband, ein Irland-Trikot und das alte Wembley Stadion dazu, und man bekommt eine herrliche Sinfonie voller Momente, die uvergessen bleiben werden.
Beginnend mit einem Trikot des FC Liverpool (das heute noch in meinem Schrank hängt, mir aber leider viel zu klein ist. Die Stutzen verwende ich allerdings noch regelmäßig), dass mir die Marta gemeinsam mit ihrem damaligen Lebensabschnittspartners geschenkt hatte. In einem Dorf wie Weyer, wo Computer tatsächlich noch zum arbeiten da waren, und das Internet bzw. Übertragungen interantionaler Top-Partien noch nicht mal in Gedanken der Menschen gedrungen sind, sorgte so ein Trikot natürlich für Aufsehen. Und weil es gar so “chic” war, bescherte es mir sogar im zarten Alter von 8 oder 9 Jahren die erste, nun sagen wirs mal so, “Freundin”. Ich weiß zudem, dass einige Jahre später, der Fabian das gleich Trikot auf einem Klassenfoto getragen hatte.
Dazwischen lag noch ein Besuch bei einem Spiel Österreich-Irland, wo mir die Marta erzählte, dass sie in Irland mal aus einem Lokal geworfen wurde, wel sie die falsche Version von “Whiskey in the Jar” gesungen hatte.
Unvergessen natürlich mein Besuch im alten Wembley-Stadion. Marta versuchte zwar Tickets für das erste Saisonspiel, den Charity Shield, zwischen Manchester UNited und den Blackburn Rovers zu bekommen, aber das war ein Ding der UNmöglichkeit. So wurde es “nur” eine Stadionführung, wo ich einen Manchester-Schal geschenkt bekam, der heute die Wand meines Wohnzimmers ziehrt. So durften wir die VIP-Plätze sehen, die Stadion-Katakomben und wir stellten sogar eine FA-Cup-Pokal-Übergabe nach. Zudem wuselten wir flink in die Kabine, wo wir die Wand bestaunten, auf der Peter Shilton, um seine Nervosität zu überbrücken, vor Spielbeginn immer den Ball dagegenwarf. Und wir durften uns mit dem Trikot unseres Lielingsspielers fotographieren lassen. Natürlich wollte ich ein Foto mit Gary Linekers Rückennummer, aber ich war mir nicht sicher welche die richtige war (die Nummer 10 wars). Also fragte Marta einen Typen, der den Eindruck machte, als hätte er Ahnung vom Kicken und der Wappler meinte, die Nummer 11 sei das richtige Trikot. Aber was sollls. Unvergessener Moment in den Duschen des Nationalteams, als ich Marta sagte: “Stell dir vor, da drinnen duscht David Beckham” und sie flux sich unter der Dusche fotographieren ließ. Wir haben sehr gelacht.
Einige Jahre später, es war Frühjahr 2006, schickte mir Marta das lang ersehnte England-Trikot, dass ich während der WM 2006 jeden Tag (bis zum unrühmlichen Ende im Viertelfinale) trug – auch heute noch, sofern die “Three Lions” irgendwo spielen. Unvergessene Momente.
Und auch Unverzeihliche. Die Marta war ja von Anbeginn weg eine unglaublich neugierige Person. Vor allem was Freunde/Freundinnen angeht.
So schmerzt es um so mehr, dass die liebe Marta die einzige Person aus dem Verwandtenkreis ist, die meine Manuela niemals kennenlernen durfte.
Aber unvergessen wirs du uns bleiben. Ebenso wie die Momente, die du uns beschert hast.
September 18th, 2009 at 3:58 pm
Ihave known Marta for 33 years and she was my dearest friend and my confidant.
I loved her dearly and her departure has left a big emptiness in my live. I am so glad to have spent quality time with her when I visited her in July.
Marta brought joy to everyone who had the privilege to meet her and she was always there to help.
These years have been so much fun together and this is how I want to remember Marta.
There is no doubt about it she was not an ordinary person, in fact she was a very extravagant person so full of life and always starting new schemes. Nothing stopped her. Mind you her ideas were not always very practical like when we moved in a new place and the stairs were too narrow to carry the bed upstairs she suggested that we cut a piece of the ceiling [and can you believe it we dit it]
With so much joy and pain shared Marta Varta you will always have a special place in my heart and in many friends’heart and that will keep you alive
good bye Marta
September 22nd, 2009 at 2:39 pm
Such a good person, so well thought of and loved by everyone who met her. And so feisty! And full of fun and life! Marta, we are thinking of you and missing you. Life is so very cruel sometimes, taking the good much too soon.
Love, Renee & Dinos
September 22nd, 2009 at 8:33 pm
David & I met Marta in 1975 through our friend Evi Schmoll – both of us were working at the Austrian Trade Delegation in London. Evi & her partner Ian were close friends with Marta & Nigel and we invited both of them for an Indian dinner at our rented place near Portobello Road nr. Notting Hill Gate.
And guess what Marta brought along? A two litre bottle (einen Doppelliter) of white wine to be served in our newly acquired “Römer Gläser”. By the end of the dinner party (most of us were sitting on the floor due to the lack of furniture) Marta had smashed one Römer glass!
We forgave her and became very close friends with both of them for many years. Marta hosted many dinner parties and entertained us and friends I think every Christmas eve (Heiliger Abend!). Although she was not religious she was able to conjure up the Christmas spirit and generously entertained many of her friends and cooked the most gorgeous food: stuffed carp, steamed and smoked salmon, roast beef, lamb pork (imported from Ireland) and all the trimmings with roast spuds, Mohr im Hemd were her specialities. She also decorated the conservatory with the most beautiful Christmas tree – a real fir tree with real candles and sparklers for the children and friends to delight.
Marta was also a very good role model for fairness, to listen to other people, to discuss and debate any subject and how to be assertive. I remember the fun we had when she was driving her car rickety tick it went and she kept making comments about other drivers etc.
One day we decided to take part in the Cycle to Cambridge Ride (58 miles) and we both completed the race in less than 8 hours from London – Cambridge central.
She was always full of new ideas and one day Marta suggested we spend a weekend away in Yorkshire trying out “From Sheep to Sweater” staying at a off the beaten track youth hostel. Robin was the chauffeur and the three of us spent a wonderful time driving up to Yorkshire, picking cherries in an orchard on the way and then learning to shear a sheep, wash, dye and card the wool and make a little carpet or blanket large enough for a hamster!
Not only was so a thinker and a great debater she was also a confidante. Yes and of course she was the one who taught us how to play bridge and we played on weekends sometimes until the early morning hours.
Strangely, she could see into the future I think too. Shortly after it was confirmed that I was pregnant with Ravi (only a few weeks into pregnancy) Marta said to me that “Luisa I had a dream and I believe you are pregnant”. I think I must have blushed and first I was speechless because only David & I knew for sure that this was the case.
We admired her for her independent spirit and her originality and tenacity. Whilst she was living in Old Windsor she completely refurbished the house and took gr eat pains to purchase building materials from Austria and France by investigating the best price and quality and not shying away from difficulties. Marta was even able to build cupboards (she was very au fait with electric tools) for her bedrooms also knit and crochet!
But one day she decided to make yet another move and this time it was back to Austria! We could not imagine how she would settle in into the new environment – no theatres, no cinemas, small village gossip and so far off the beaten track. How would we visit her and would she make new friends in this tiny community?
Her entrepreneurial spirit won again and she bought the house/barn together with her niece and started planning a new eco house! When my family and I visited her three summers ago Marta showed us the plans and she was very enthusiastic about the new building project. She also wanted to keep her mind busy so she set up a translating company “English for Business”.
Dear Marta, it’s autumn again and we need you to show us the places in the forest where can find delicious mushrooms! What fun and excitement we had when we picked mushrooms (edible ones and others too!) getting lost in the forest but Marta always kept quiet when she found a “field of mushrooms”.
You are so sadly missed by all of us!
with all our love Luisa & David & Ravi
September 22nd, 2009 at 11:14 pm
I met Marta in 1982 when I moved in as her neighbour in Greenford, England, when she lived with Gabriel Flanagan.
It was a May Bank holiday & the weather was superb. We met Marta & reg over the garden fence and cocktails ensued. The friendship had started!
The next thing – in the first week – that happened was that their cat adopted us! It spent more time with us thatn with them, normally onlty going home to be fed. You could see their frustration especially when they came into our house & the cat would run & hide under a chair in the corner of the living room. You can imagine their frustration!
Some memorable moments ..
For some reason they got into being presented ornamental/themed cakes, for birthdays etc. It became a trend – the next occasion would see a bigger & more ornate cake. However, they didnt eat them but they kept them in a display cabinet. uneaten & for all to see. Anyway, on one occasion – a bithday I think – Donatella & I made Marta a ‘cat cake’. Made from choclate swiss role, with chocolate buttons for eyes & chocolate ears etc. It was quite good, well, the 1st one wasnt, but the 2nd one was. So, we presented her the cake (the 2nd one) as a present at her party that evening. She loved it and declared that it was NOT to be eaten, but added to the collection! As a joke however, we later brought in the 1st cake and were publically seen to be eating it and celebrating how great it was. She went MAD that we were eating it. Imagine the histerics when we eventually admitted that we had swapped cakes. How we all laughed!
Another occasion, it was winter, we popped it for a drink .. the log fire was blazing & they were playing Scrabble. Marta was losing I think .. so i joined in to help her ..! After a few goods moves, we delivered the word ‘QUA’ on a triple word square = a BIG score. The room erupted in noise of both triumph and complaint. “QUA, that’s not a word”! I tHink that debate/arguement went on for years. Needless to say, scrabble was not something we ever played much of afer that.
She was a great gal. Always conversational and confrontational – always wanting to discuss and debate – but great fun.
I spent years living next door and much time in each others houses; eating; drinking; holidaying; eating; drinking; partying; cycling; badminton(ing); mushroom picking; fixing motorbiles & cars; oh, did I say eating,drinking & partying – yes, plenty of that!
Send her my love.
September 23rd, 2009 at 8:38 pm
Beim Lesen der Blogeinträge war ich mal zu Tränen gerührt, mal zauberten sie ein Lächeln in mein Gesicht.
Meine Familie und ich, wir gehören zu jenen, die Marta nur relativ kurz gekannt haben. Wie in einem kleinen Dorf so üblich, wurde so einiges über die neue “Frau Nachbarin” bekannt. Der Name “Frau Nachbarin” (Zavarsky war ja unaussprechlich ;)) ist ihr auch geblieben. Ob zu Hause, im Kindergarten, wo sie Englisch unterrichtet hat, … Meine kleine Tochter Katarina sagte nach ihrem Tod: Jetzt kann die Frau Nachbarin unserer Urli im Himmel auch Englisch lernen!
Martas Charme, ihr zugängliches Wesen hat ihr ein Dorf voll Freunde beschert. Jeder wollte gern mit ihr befreundet sein. Sie war ein guter Gesprächspartner – ob bei lustigen oder ernsten Themen. Manche ihrer Aussprüche, z. B. beim Hausbau: Das mach ich alles selber!, werden uns noch lang begleiten.
Wir vermissen dich, Frau Nachbarin, wir werden immer in Liebe an dich denken!
Kristina, Christian, Teresa und Katarina
September 24th, 2009 at 7:12 pm
We met Marta well over thirty years ago when Marie and she worked together. In due course she became godmother to our son Stephen. Marta was never still, always something new on the go. Nothing seemed to daunt her and she would turn her hand to anything. For years DIY manuals were essential reading on her bedside table, and the house was full of her work, both practical building and maintenance, and arts and crafts. She was responsible for getting us playing badminton on Sundays which we look back with great pleasure. Badminton was always followed by hours of tea drinking. She got me onto a bicycle for the first time in my adult life. I cannot describe the pain and chafing in my nether regions resulting from a weekend cycling around Solihull- suffice to say that I could only manage the second day by standing on the pedals and ensuring that no part of me touched the saddle. That led in due course to me opening a cycle shop, and I am a keen cyclist still.
Whatever Marta took up she pursued with a wholehearted passion. She took upholstery and pottery classes. As we know pottery is not an easy skill and Marta had yet to perfect her skills, but nevertheless we were the proud recipients of one or two of her objets d’art.
Dinner parties were arranged with typical gusto. While we may push the boat out and have on occasion as many as eight friends to dinner, she would typically have twenty to thirty friends in, and barbecues would run to forty and more. There was always somebody new and interesting to meet at her house.
So many funny times to remember, but one which always amuses me was the time Marta was burgled. Fortunately not much of great monetary value was stolen, but she did lose some precious momentos of personal value. She had recently bought a small case of six fish knives from a bric a brac stall. No great price was paid and the knives had seen better times, but she prized her purchase greatly. As much as she regretted losing her property, and was appalled by the invasion of her privacy, she was galled that the thieves had not recognised the value of the fish knives and had ignored them.
I couldn’t count how many Christmases we shared with Marta, but we did for many years. A convention developed in which we would spend a lavish Christmas eve with Marta and a multitude of her friends, leaving at two or three in the morning, and she would join us later in the day at our house for Christmas dinner. I don’t know how we survived those late nights given that we had to be up at cockcrow to start cooking the dinner. Her moving back to Austria meant that Christmas was not the same.
While Marie had been to stay with Marta shortly before her death, I had chosen to wait a few weeks until around her birthday to visit her. She seemed to think it a good idea but, given the speed of events at the end, I regret the decision. Her move back to Austria already meant we would be seeing her infrequently. It is very sad to know we will no longer see her at all.
September 26th, 2009 at 12:05 am
MARTA [TOMATO] I wish I was singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you instead of writing this…
My Dearest Friend and ex-Business Partner.
Tomato?
About 16 years ago, whilst I was looking after my Granddaughter, Amber – who was about 2 years old at the time – when Marta telephoned, after a brief chat I asked Amber if she would like to say “Hello” to Marta. Amber picked up the phone and said: “Hello Tomato”, and so the name stuck.
Marta thought it hilarious and so did I as she was going through one of her shocking ‘Redhead’ phases.
In 1996 Marta and I decided to set up a business together in the Portobello Road selling ‘Antiques’? Oh what fun we had! Marta was the Technical Director {good at knocking up the odd shelf or two} and I was the Artistic Director {hopeless with a Black & Decker}, but happy to decorate the stall {all 6 foot of it}. Our first venture into the unknown was at the ‘World Famous Arcade’ {not because of us}. We named our stall the ‘Den of Antiquity’ Marta surprised us at the Christmas because she presented us with matching T-shirts and a chauffeur’s hat for Kerry ‘Chauffeur to the Elite’ as we had roped him in to ferry us to and from the market at the crack of dawn on a Saturday morning usually around 5am.
A few months later spurred on by a few unsuspecting souls who bought our ‘treasures’, we progressed to the top of the road and our dream location: ‘The Good Fairy’
WE HAD ARRIVED!
This was where it all happened. Well lot’s did happen,- not too much business – but it did not dampen our enthusiasm, we had a great time.
But it was cold, very, very, cold. In the depths of that winter we huddled together drinking gallons of hot chocolate, and eating Marta’s delicious Broccoli and Stilton Soup, whilst the wind howled through the freezing cold ramshackle building.Old paint pots hung from the roof to catch the rain, but it did not put off the crowds, who poured in – including Michael Winner, who posed in front of our security cameras wearing a shocking blue jacket.
Many famous faces came to the market, the cameras were always flashing and the TV crews were often filming – we loved every minute.
Over many layers of clothing, Marta wore a thick scarf wound several times around her neck, the funny thing was that she was still knitting the other end of it! and she wandered around with knitting pins and balls of wool hanging off the end, it was so funny.
Marta also enjoyed the ‘odd siesta or two’, which involved lying across my feet on a pile of bubble-wrap and plastic bags – completely out of sight of the customers – imagine their surprise, when I was hunting for change and Marta’s hand appeared from under the table with it.
Oh how we laughed!
We also had many ‘Whoops-A-Daisy Marta’s Crazy’ moments as Marta did a ‘Michael Schumacker’ race between Car Boot sales and Antique Fairs in her Ford Fiesta {I think that was when I first noticed my grey hairs}.
Only a Ford, but it went like a rocket with Marta at the wheel {and it sounded like one too}!! Neither was it a good idea for me to drive, and Marta to navigate because she did not know her left hand from her right, so we often drove for miles out of our way, did 3 point turns in narrow lanes, and drove the wrong way up one-way streets, and that was on the good days!
Someone pass the Valium please.
As we all know Marta was very determined, and at no better time than when I was helping her to ‘pack up’ at Old Windsor. There was this old mattress {double], which she had promised to deliver to someone {anyone out there still got it?} you owe me a cup of tea ! anyway, as Marta was leaving for Austria the next day it had to go immediately.
As my car did not have folding seats, the only other form of transport was the ‘Red Rocket’ outside. I should have known it was going to be trouble – how did I let Marta talk me into it? That wretched mattress had a mind of its own. We fought and struggled to shove it into the car and as we got it through one door it emerged triumphantly out of another, but Marta was determined, and with a final push the mattress went in, but Marta could neither reach the gear lever nor see out of any window.
So out it all came again {I was losing the will to live} We searched for string to try and ‘fold it up’ – have you ever tried folding a double mattress in half? {Don’t!!!} Anyway, Marta had already packed the string, and the only things lying around were big black bin-liners, so we tied them all together, jumped on the mattress, tied it in bin-liners and finally got the thing into the car, and Miss Determination disappeared triumphantly in a cloud of exhaust fumes.
I had hardly got my breath back before she returned.
Next job – weigh the suitcase!
Oh God, NO. It was very big and extremely heavy, I could not lift it! but Marta decided that not only could she lift it, but she should share the scales with it and then deduct her weight.
I suggested that we should simply hoist the case onto the scales, but no, that was not Marta’s way, so she stood on one leg and tried to drag the case up on the scales it was soooo funny.
I think she paid excess baggage by the ton!!
Even funnier was when she stayed in our ‘Tarts Boudoir’- as she called it – after a trip to London to stock up on ‘goodies’ that had to be packed into yet another suitcase.
Hundreds of teabags, jars of peanut butter and marmalade, crumpets, bacon and books of course, dozens of books!! no room for clothes… so, she had to wear them, layer after layer – thick sweaters over thin sweaters over blouses, skirts over trousers, and all topped by a nice thick coat!
I screamed with laughter, I thought that I would BURST and I thought that the coat would too.
Marta the Michelin Man!!
Oh how Marta lightened our lives… I feel blessed to have known Marta, and so grateful that we spent that week with her in July this year. It was a week of sadness, but also joy, as she enjoyed showing us around the beautiful countryside where she lived, and introducing us to the very kind and loving friends in the village and beyond.
We loved you Marta, we miss you and life will never be quite the same again.
September 27th, 2009 at 11:03 am
I met Marta when I moved next door to her in April 1984. Ross and I were very lucky to have chosen Sherwood Avenue as our home. We were instantly absorbed into the social whirlwind that was number 35, described very accurately above by voices that I have not heard for several years but whose recollections have brought back many fun memories. We shared silly adventures, many friends and, indeed, the cats… Marta’s cats were a big presence in her life. She loved them dearly. Tigga (or “The Traitor”, as Marta would often call him) decided that his territory had been extended with our arrival and for reasons we could never understand became fixated with us rather then his owners. It was indeed embarrassing at times, but after Ross left Sherwood Avenue and we later lost Tigga, Marta treated as normal the fact that her new cats should be a part of my life as much as hers.
I went with Marta to collect two kittens, Titus and the first Fuschia (a sweet little thing that sadly disappeared shortly afterwards leaving quite a void in our cat sharing lives). The two of them had carried on like Tigga as if the two households were one. When the second Fuschia came into our lives, the beautiful fluffy creature we had again collected together turned out to be the most vicious, lethal bitch we had ever known. I had to take her into my house (‘though I would not go near her!) to give poor shy, terrified Titus a chance of survival. Marta had to approach the little beast wearing thick garden gloves for at least a week not to have her hands shredded to bits. I will never forget the patience and tenderness with which she tamed the devil that became her precious companion for so many years and which, with Titus on tow, came running into number 37 and hid there until forcibly removed on the day Marta and Reg moved to a new home. To this day, the sight of black cats makes me smile, bringing back some really sweet memories.
It is true that Marta was always thinking of new projects and that her mad plans always left some of us seriously wondering about her sanity, but her enthusiasm for everything she set off to achieve was wonderful.
She was creative and artistic, both very practical and completely impractical. She was capable of turning any ideas into accomplished, or sometimes “not so accomplished” work…
It is easy to understand the frustration she felt when her projects in Austria were curtailed by her illness. Despite this, Marta was still able to brighten the lives of others around her. Marta was a natural giver.
Over the years, we shared great fun and deep sorrow.
My debt to her remains enormous for the time she dedicated to me when I needed it most.
Without fuss she kept me together and pushed me to do things that boost my confidence and made my life much more enjoyable and interesting than it had ever been. She was an amazing force behind me without ever letting me notice it. When Robby came into my life she took the cautious approach that a mother would take in judging whether or not he was the right choice… And then she loved him, of course!!!
When her life was turned upside down by the break up of her long relationship with Reg, I tried to repay this debt, but fell a long way short of matching her contribution to mine.
Robby and I are sorry that we learnt only in early September that all treatment had failed. We decided to visit her as soon as possible. What made us think we could make it in time was Marta’s incredible strength of character and the way in which she played down her pain and suffering. She used humour and a very practical, positive outlook to describe her situation, always lightening the burden for her listeners. Unfortunately the date we chose was already too late.
She deserves the tributes paid to her here and I can imagine her smiling as each word is written…
October 21st, 2009 at 4:08 pm
“You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.”
(Khalil Gibran)
More than a month has passed since Marta’s death and though
I was at Marta’s service and her funeral, I still find it hard to realize that she is no longer among us.
Marta came into my life more than 40 years ago. At that time we were both working at the Austrian Trade Delegation in London and although we immediately clicked, it wasn’t until Marta moved into the flat at Notting Hill Gate which I was then sharing with Elisabeth that we became close friends.
Since then we had been together trough some of the good times and some of the bad times, especially while I was still living in England. Though we were in many ways different, we also had a lot in common. We shared many friends, adventures and a great love for literature, music and art. We could stay up for hours talking and laughing about everything under the sun. Quite often this would lead to hot discussions which both of us enjoyed enormously. Being gifted in so many ways and being interested in numerous subjects made Marta at all times an interesting, challenging and inspiring person to converse with. Above all, she was a wonderful friend, always ready to listen and to help. Someone, one could turn for support. But like me, she could also speak out frankly and say what she felt, even if this wasn’t what one wanted to hear. I liked that too about her.
As long as I remember, Marta was always full of ideas. In Notting Hill Gate she was into knitting on her knitting machine and she had made some lovely things. However, if some of her knitting wouldn’t fit properly, Marta had a remedy: “Oh, we’ll just wash or iron it!”
Well, it wouldn’t have been Marta, if she had stuck to one project. I firmly believe that it was her creative mind that made her have a go at so many different projects, such as making scarves, soaps, cremes, pottery, carpeting, renovating houses, to name just a few.
Mind you, visiting Marta when she was in the process of renovating a house could be risky too. Once, when I entered the living room at Sherwood Avenue, I suddenly found myself in the cellar instead of the living room! Peter had opened uo part of the floor in the living room, as he was then installing the central heating in the house. The shock was great, however, miraculously, nothing whatsoever happened to me. A guardian angel must have been watching over Marta’s house.
Dinner parties and Christmas eves at Marta’s place were always great events, and her presents quite original. I shall never forget the present she once gave me for Christmas. When I opened it, we all burst out in hilarious laughter. All I got was a hand knitted sleeve of something, something…? Marta hadn’t been able to finish her knitting in time, which later turned out to be a lovely, white jumper. I’ve still got it and I shall never give it away.
There are so many things to remember about Marta. I think, we all agree that she was a very special and original person. She was funny, witty and full of imagination, a dreamer and a great storyteller. At the same time she was a person with great depths and warmth. She was a tower of strength and had a soft side too. At times she liked to shock people, which in my view, was also an attempt to disguise her incredible vulnerability.
Marta bore her illness with admirable courage and patience. Even in the hospital she never complained and she was still able to make one laugh.
Two weeks before Marta died we were still joking and laughing on the phone and we agreed that I would visit her after my return from the Schubertiade. Regrettably it was too late.
Marta has enriched our lives in so many ways. We shall miss her greatly and she will never be forgotten. She will always remain in our hearts and somehow I’ve got the strange feeling that she is still around.