Blogs, vlogs and podcasts are full of “This time last year. . . .” Another meme that pops up regularly is “How it started” vs “How it’s going”. Obviously we have to be informed and reminded of things that began changing people’s lives roughly a year ago.
Don’t we all know only too well about this time last year, how it started and how it’s going? We all know there was too much coffee, too many biscuits, too many nibbles, too much cake. I won’t even mention the beers, wines and whiskeys. We also know there were not enough work-outs, too few bike-rides, too little exercise. After all these months, weeks and days we certainly we don’t want to constantly watch the scales to check how much weight we gained.
In the few happy months that i managed to safely spend in that remote sanctuary that i call my most likeable place, i stuffed myself with ‘stuff’, all kinds of stuff, healthy and unhealthy. After nibbling away from a big bowl of pretzels, it seemed fun to keep a few hearty ones for this year’s Saint Patrick’s Day. I don’t know if they’d still be edible, but i may have them tonight , as there is no other knick-knackery to be found here. The jars are empty and -on another note- i don’t like scales dictating my life.
p.s. Have a happy St.Patrick’s Day and if you want : Eat your heart out !
….to all you smokers and non-smokers alike
….you’re supposed not to go
The evening before -and no, we are not superstitious and we don’t believe in Friday 13th nonsense- one of the staff at the hotel had told us it was the last dinner she’d be serving: she had been laid off the following day, along with hundreds other staff members.
In the morning there was no breakfast buffet. Sure, there was food. A tray with plastic-wrapped sandwiches, no choice and not to be touched with our own hands. There were yoghurts in small diposable bowls with disposable spoons. There was coffee and tea, but we were not allowed to pour it ourselves. Orange juice in a plastic cup was put on our table by blue-gloved hands and we were kindly requested to ask for anything if we needed more.
Compared to the day before, there were only a few guests in the breakfast room. The cook at the open kitchen counter looked pleadingly in our direction, hoping anybody would want some hot food, a fried egg or maybe some bacon or a sausage. The atmosphere of insecurity and uncertainty seemed to outweigh his wishful thinking .
When about to leave for a walk, we were offered an orange or a banana, just in case we wanted to bring it with us. We felt like declining, but politely took an orange because of the kind gesture and secondly because bananas not being favourite fruits.
We pottered about the Latin Quarter, strolled along the boardwalk, admired and listened to The Wave and walked around the Kastellet where the oranges were eaten on a bench in the sun.
Around lunchtime when trying to find a place for coffee, we experienced that something insidious and malicious had taken hold of the city…….
Someone took lines of Yeats’ poems too literally and stole that ‘human child’ from the spot where it was sitting, wishing for the cloths of heaven.
“….Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand…”
“….I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”