The day we made the walk to Brusthem was the tail end of a summer storm, the sky sagged low over the parish’s flats and tracks, whole limbs of sweet chestnut shambled on the grass – at the top end of the allotments where you can see down over a score of neat roofs the others waited for me to catch up; we leaned on our sticks trying to find the past and the tree where we skipped and giddied about till we lost our breath and flung ourselves down on the spot and the old biddies tutted that we’d scared away the fairies. Looking north between here and the church you can see the light turn green as if the air’s been stained by weeping-willow, trefoil, wil iris – a verdure breathed by the landscape. I didn’t always see these things. Now I walk more slowly. I was still catching my breath, and waved Beatrix and the others to go on. My mother knew the names and sympathies of all plants – toothache, cramp, bad dreams, the ones you wake sick and shrieking from.
Jong ingetreden als monnik. Cellarius en cantor 1108, proost 1112. Ondanks protest van graaf van Duras tot abt gewijd in Fosse 1138. Restaureerde verder de abdij na Rodulfus o.a. slaapzaal, kapittelzaal en infirmerie. Was in conflict met Arnold van Diest en maakte bezetting mee door Godfried van Brabant in 1140 en 1142. Ontving talrijke schenkingen van lokale burgerij, maar onderging brouwersopstand in 1143-1144. Liet goed in Hakendover na. Begraven in midden abdijkerk 1145.