my week off sick

Of course Ms B is still off sick, and that state of affairs will continue for another week at least; but rallying is beginning to occur, and even in the delirium there have been precious moments, both on- and offline. I'd like to share some of them with you.

1. The cockles of my heart, and presumably also of my poor little gall bladder (it's quite close) were warmed when Mlle B spent an entire evening singing "It's only a paper moon" at the top of her not inconsiderable voice - with fantastic flourishes - just another of those little surprises in life, and such a great song.

2. Some of my cockles were warmed by the old(-sounding) Hassidic men on the other side of my chimney-breast, singing also, all this evening - but different material from Mlle B. These are the neighbours who occasionally play Yiddish accordion music at 1am and then decide it's time to hoover. Try getting to sleep as an extra in Fiddler on the Roof! All I can say is it's calmer than being in Homerton Hospital. (And better that by far than a load of hip hop or whatever.) Tonight it was prayers, which I figure can never be a bad thing.

3. I've read lots of great snippets about poetry in the past week. That can be a separate post, when I get to it.

4. Annie Rhiannon inspired me for the future (okay, quite distant, but I can dream, can't I?) of my surly youths:

"Galway just isn't the same as it was. Everybody's got handbags now. Handbags!* We can't carry our drugs around in our baggy combat pockets these days, y'see, because we're all wearing silky dresses. Well, it was a wedding, I suppose, but even so. And the drugs... they're just not as exciting as they used to be, hey.

I caught the bouquet, despite Bjarni casually getting me to hold his pint at the last minute. Didn't matter; I leapt into the air anyway, a drink in each hand, elbowing a pregnant lady to the floor and catching the roses between my teeth. No probs.

Bouquets and handbags. Everything changes."

5. I gave myself a precious gift, one which I feel will go on giving: a bottle of teriyaki sauce. It seems like a small thing, right? Genius. Fat-free, interesting and delicious, and great with fish! And chicken. And chicken and fish. And maybe even tinned tuna.

* It occurs to me that this might look as if I envisage my boys, at some point in their future manhood, with handbags. I don't. Annie is a girl.