Delights

It's raining on Birmingham, but not crying in my heart...and the violins are laughing rather than sobbing...Blame the French poet Verlaine for these allusions.

9 am: the food shopping is all done. The day will be one of these 'there is nothing I have to do' days, a delight. A bit of Will & Grace, a bit of lunch, a bit of rummaging through the big wicker basket I call my filing system, quite a bit of meditation.

Saved myself £90 by phoning around for quotes for my car insurance. Everyone I spoke to was charming and responsive.

.....A day passes....

Since it is now past my bedtime, I will be very brief and leave you with a "aahhh!" story. (This works both as "aahhh" or as "aahhh", by the way...)

An infant of my acquaintance was inordinately fond of looking up at leaves moving about in the wind, from the bottom of his pram. No problem in Birmingham - which is green and windy! But on a visit to the gran'parents in St. Claude, France, small logistics problems occurred : number one, the town's traditional walks were not very green, and what trees there were, were all very tall, and did nor fit the bill. Mémé (then 81 years old) and pépé (about the same) set about finding the right kind of bushes for the emperor granchild. When they did, the bushes were fine, but totally motionless, so the enterprising grandparents set about shaking the bushes in a convincing way until they triggered the desired peals of joy from the innocent one... Touching or what? (L'amour, toujours l'amour!)

Good night all.