Nativity -2 days. Lily is still convalescing, but her minx-like habits are beginning to return and she has started calling me “smelly” and “stinky” every other nanosecond, a sign that she is returning to normal, whatever “normal” means to a four, nearly five-year old. I am concerned that she has not produced a script, so that she could memorize her lines for the nativity. Since I have shelled out 25 quid for three DVD’s of the opening performance, I sincerely do not want to waste my money watching my daughter go blank on stage.
Today is my one day where I can get down and do some writing and organizing. A friend calls up to arrange a truly incredible lunch in Bordeaux next week. He says I sound terrible, which is probably my voice sounding three octaves lower than usual in a tone not dissimilar to Bob Dylan or Tom Waits. Sand ‘n glue indeed.
Anyway, I tidy up a few articles, finish off the chapter on La Conseillante for my Pomerol book following last night’s tasting, bath the sprogs, clean out their earwax and marvel at how much they can produce, read them their Princess Aurora cartoon for the millionth time (I know it off by heart), tuck them into bed, polish off something Japanese that Tomoko has rustled up and spend the rest of the evening writing whilst listening to Joni Mitchell’s “Clouds” album. I particularly adore “Roses Blue”…’tis strange how such a chord change can be so moving.
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