at home with ann

Archive for the ‘boaz & moriah’ Category

Tempus Fugit

Posted on: 31 July 2010


I went on an unplanned stroll down memory lane.   Yesterday I cleared out my paperwork!   Big deal, you’ll think; well it is for me.     I don’t open my post – only stuff that looks interesting – everything else waits in a quiet corner.    So now I feel virtuous ‘cos four months of filing has been done, in real files as well as the wpb.    Then I thought why not collate the notes and writings from my class – that shouldn’t take too long except I spent ages reading and admiring the rest of the group’s work – I was privileged to be with some serious talent.    I also found reams of old poetry that brought back mixed memories – they need tidying and/or destroying.   

As part of my crusade on paper, this morning I dug out from a deep old storage box, a pile of older battered crinkled notebooks.    Between pages and pages of poetry and prose scribblings was so much else:   Menus and recipes and related shopping lists.   Plans for my children’s engagements and weddings, costs, guestlists, possible venues, flowers, music, more menus, music, etc.   Recommended book lists and reviews.    Doodles.   Quotes from books and my own one-liners.  Words I didn’t know their meanings, meaning to look them up.   Numbers, lots of them – telephone numbers without names and what could the others be?  Pictures of  my babies… and Goren!   Flight details, times, airports, costs, lists of hotels, itineraries.   Home shopping lists and to-do lists and moving costs; not for this one but from spring 2004.    (Yes this one is still gonna happen – the house will go on the market this week.  Wish me luck)!   

The next part of my journey shocked me (slightly).    Those who have been around the block with me here will remember At Home With The Goren’s.   That blog is long gone and the stories I first drafted in word – all deleted.    In my hands I held chapters written, I think, in my lunchbreak, on a train or a plane or a cafe.      What was I thinking then?    Was I pleasing a particular audience?   What was it with those two?    I cringed as I read.  Puerile and pathetic; the characters, the content and the quality of writing.  I’m not sorry the blog is lost to posterity.    However, thanks to dear Val she had the bright idea to invite anyone to contribute to her new blog After Major Case and in a moment of sentimentality I resurrected them.   What was I thinking?   Again!   The couple have since matured (and the writer); they have a son Robert, Bobby is out of work  and anything can happen.



As for all the notebooks – I kept the photos,  pulled out the recipes, one-liners and a few poems – the rest, including mrsbg,  are now languishing atop my recycling box awaiting an uncertain, but i’m sure a more useful future.


So wassup?   My last post said I was going to Israel with mother and we did – it was a fabulous trip.   Jamie joined us for a long weekend; he bunked at Jon and Bridgitte’s whilst ma and I stayed in an apartment in Herzliya two minutes from the Marina.  There was a massive pool and the little ones had a lot of fun.   It worked out brilliantly and  friends were coincidentally staying in the same place and mother and I also met up with other friends who live there.   Not sure when my next trip will be, the summer months are way too hot for this English rose, but hot off the press, they’re all coming to stay at the end of September for about ten days.   Can’t wait to see my little ones again – I miss them so much – thank goodness for webcams and skype!







Rachel and I are still planning our trip to the big apple in October – flights are booked – wooo hooo.    I am so excited.   I’ve never been and it really is the only place on my wish list at the moment.   I’ll never say no to other places, but right now I am fixated on going there.   I’ve been researching accommodation – the choice is endless and I so want to get it right, but the prices are unbelievable.   Coincidentally my boss is going in a few weeks and we were checking out the same hotels – they are half the price in August compared to the dates we’re going.   I also checked to see if it was a public holiday or something, but no, and it’s not Chelsea’s wedding!   Still searching – all recommendations welcome.  

What else?   Oh yes, Bon Jovi at the O2… cool.   No, HOT!!!!   He was fantastic, but boy I could hardly move the next day.   It hurts to confess, this old hen is past being a rock chick.   More on music… got blown away seeing (sadly only on tv) the awesome and talented Carole King and James Taylor at the Troubador’s 50th anniversary, although Jamie bought me the DVD & CD.   They’ve been doing a sell-out tour in the States – it would be awesome if they brought it to London.   Some music is timeless  – Tapestry – 1971  – still listening. 

I also got blown away by a television two-part drama written by Kay Mellor, based on her mother’s revelation that she’d had an affair when Kay was a baby.   It’s called A Passionate Woman and received mixed reviews – I liked it.   It also introduced us to a beautiful and talented young actor called Theo James.    I shall be keeping an eye out for him and wish him a glittering career.

theo james as 'crazy' in a passionate woman


Trying to remember what books I’ve read since I last posted; I recall raving about Suite Francaise – since then I had the opportunity to hear her biographer, together with the Cambridge professor who translates Irene Nemirovsky’s writing, and Irene’s daughter (who is now 80).    After the talk hoards of people queued for book signing; my friends and I had a coffee while we waited and then joined the end of the line – in my limited french we exchanged a few words and as I was the last one they signed the books to me personally, which was rather nice.  

What have I been reading?   I loved the first two of the Stieg Larssson Millenium books – the third sits teasingly on my bookshelf, but it is 700 pages long and I  haven’t found time to dive in.    They are such thumping good yarns; I’ve bought them for friends who also can’t put them down.

Am in the middle of Andrea Levy’s Small Island which is brilliantly well written – more of that when I finish it.  

A quick read by the pool was Alexander McCall Smith’s latest  in his No.1 Lady Detective  Agency series of books  set in Botswana – they never disappoint, but don’t expect too much – just easy reading  filled with wisdom and insight. 

What else?   A return to Yann Martel’s Life of Pi.   I loved it first time round – loved it even more the second.   The first outing I was totally raving about his surreal adventures at sea and the fact it was so original; the second time I found myself more absorbed by Pi’s fascination and search for religion.   The ending is clever, very clever.   There are some beautiful lines and descriptions.  If you’ve not had the chance, this is one I heartily recommend.

Couldn’t put down Marcus Zusak’s Book Thief.   Set in Munich during the war the story of a German family harbouring a young Jewish man – the story is narrated by Death yet it is not in the least morbid.   It is written in an unusual format where the contents of each chapter are listed at the beginning so you know what to expect.   Another one I recommend.

The Ghost by Robert Harris – a political genre loosely (or not so) based on Blair  – it had some great reviews and I hear the film is good, but not seen it yet.  I should ‘cos I believe it stars the cute Pierce Brosnan and cuter Ewan McGregor.   The book is 400 pages long; I didn’t find much to excite me until p.300.  The timing was good – I was on a flight.   The last 100 pages were pageturners; at the very last line it dawned on me that we never knew the name of the ‘ghost’ – of course we were never meant to.   Friends who enjoyed it more than I didn’t notice my observation – they all went “Oh yes!” – still worth giving it an airing.  

I’ve tried to read other books by Marina Lewycka, but gave up not even halfway.   I completed the task with A Short Story of Tractors in Ukranian.   Not sure what to make of the book – think it may be a little like Marmite – you either love it or hate it.    It has been labelled comedy, when in fact it isn’t at all and nor was that the author’s intention.     There are a few smart one-liners and  it was poignant in parts.  It’s about two distant sisters (in more ways than one) whose recently widowed, 80+ year old father is about to marry a buxom blonde Ukrainian in her 30’s.   The father is writing a book about, yes, tractors in the Ukraine; he is an intellectual man, when he’s not being stupid.   Some skipped those sections, but I actually found them enlightening as you saw the progress (and not) of communism in Eastern Europe.  You can imagine the rest about him and his trophy – or read the book. 

Finally Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis I & II.   She is a graphic novelist living in France and her cartoon book is autobiographical.   The title is the old name for Tehran.  It was different.   I found the pages hard on my eyes.   It has been made into a film and I caught it this week on the television.   Having recently read the book, it was exactly the same but animated so I switched off.   I think I was less enthusiastic than my friends – I did not like the format (think Maus) but she is a graphic novelist so obviously this would be the way she would tell her story.     Her story encompasses her life from childhood in Tehran, to being a student in Austria, back to Tehran and more studies and marriage, then divorce all with the backdrop of the different regimes and rules and regulations and war.   It left me cold – I forced myself to read it – the story is true and heartbreaking and I wanted so much to sympathise and empathise; I’m sure I would have done if it was conventionally told .

Sorry I’ve been gone so long – I may be back (don’t hold your breath)   🙂


pics as promised — warning — some may find these offensive 😉


... two

... three

sorry about the poor quality, these are off jon’s phone and i’m too excited to wait for the better quality stuff — i’ll bore you with those another time 🙂

Monday I dragged my feet like a reluctant and recalcitrant schoolgirl back to my writing class – a new term, a new class, a new teacher.   I was trying to justify every good reason for a no show – the course had been paid for, the money long gone, but the bottom line was that I simply could not be bothered.   Shopping lists, christmas cards, cheques, sporadic posts here and an odd (in every sense) comment there,  just about sums up the extent of my writing since breaking up last November.   You’d think with the number of vegetative days since the snows began I would have taken the opportunity to knuckle down and be creative – huh – it don’t work like that!   

The fact is I felt I’d lost my mojo and couldn’t face sitting in a class of  talented wannabes, my pen frozen in the air above the snowy white virgin sheet of paper and everyone else keen eager beavers.    Still I did make it ; the new teacher is a darling, it was great to see friends from last term and some newbies.  It was rather amusing seeing their young and enthusiastic faces enter the room – you could tell there was an element of shock when they saw the number of wrinklies and thought they were in the wrong place.  However as for not writing, I was not alone – no one else had and we all felt the same!

You see I blame the weather.   It’s odd how it changes one’s psyche.   We’ve all heard of SAD, seasonal affective disorder –  not that it particularly affects me apart from my usual moan that it goes against nature to get up from a warm cosy bed when it’s still dark out there.   It’s the psychological affect of snow; the feeling of being cut off and isolated that equates with hibernation; the desire to hole up and hide away and basically do nothing.   Now I live a fairly solitary life in any event, but somehow this is different.   

Last Wednesday was horrendous and my plans were scuppered so I chilled indoors, cooked and wrote a post.    By the time I got home from work last night, my road was ice free – the garden still pretty as a winter wonderland and the underlying perils gone.  

Today is another Wednesday – another non-working day – another night of snow and we’re back to square 1! 

As I’m typing, I’m watching it coming down from the warmth of my bed, the sky the same colour as the housetops and the road an ice rink again, but today I will not give in so easily.   Wisdom dictates I don’t do the North Circular, so sorry mother, another day not taking you to Brent X –  it wasn’t so much the getting there, but the getting home.    Still this vegetating has to stop.  Life has to go on.  

Tonight I have a meeting about my next official trip to Israel – driving on icy roads is one thing, doing it at night and I’m a real wimp, but it’s important.   Many of you will remember last year’s trip well I’m doing it again.   I’m looking forward to finding out this year’s itinerary and meeting my fellow travellers.     I should like to revisit Rachel’s Tomb and pray harder this time  –  I’ll leave it at that for now.   I heard we’ll be visiting Sderot, rocket attacks permitting.   I know this time round it will be a larger group, so I expect we shall have an armed escort and travel on a bullet-proof bus and  I know we shall be seeing Liore again – I am very excited.   If you have time, please see the video on her link – Liore shines with inner beauty, she is modest, she is brave, she is an angel.

No trip to Israel goes without seeing my family, so of course I shall be staying on.   Actually most trips are only about seeing them and weddings, talking of which,  Jon and Bridgitte celebrate their 6th anniversary tomorrow, the baby is due very very soon – like around Boaz’s birthday and he’s gonna be 5 next week – I can’t wait to see them all – so many wonderful blessings.    Coincidentally Jamie was due on Jon’s birthday, a long long time ago, except he came early – my husband wanted me to hang in there so he would then be born on his birthday the following day – yeah right!   As it was I  ended up living in a household with three typical Aries men! 


chez moi - october 2009


Now I really am gonna move myself – the chores and errands won’t go away and they don’t do themselves!


HOT OFF THE PRESS — just heard that probate has been granted on the home jamie and lucy want to buy – guess it looks like I really will be moving – heeeeeeelp!!!!!

One resolution I have made, and try always to keep, is this:  To rise above the little things  ~ John Burroughs

New Year’s Day:  Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions.  Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual ~ Mark Twain

Cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right  ~ Oprah Winfrey

Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true ~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1850

Many people look forward to the new year for a new start on old habits  ~ Author Unknown

A New Year’s resolution is something that goes in one year and out the other  ~ Author Unknown

Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man  ~ Benjamin Franklin
I made no resolutions for the New Year.  The habit of making plans, of criticizing, sanctioning and molding my life, is too much of a daily event for me  ~ Anaïs Nin


I know Christmas is not my festival, but it still ended up a very busy time indeed as my home turned into Hotel Chez Raven – again – bless my darling dearest and nearest – and I love it.   Anyway although it’s not my holiday I want to thank all of you who included me at this time, for your thoughtfulness in sending me beautiful snail mail and email cards and good wishes; all gratefully and graciously appreciated – your friendship means a lot to me – thank you.


I’ve not been in the right frame of mind to write – my creative juices are just not flowing – the way I’m feeling right now I could simply regurgitate some of the old stuff – boring boring boring.        Maybe it is all written in the stars and the waning moon and the flow of the tides.   I remember much debate about the effects of a new millenium and boy did my life change then.  

New Years Eve ten years ago, 1999, strolling along Fort Lauderdale promenade, my husband puffing on a cigar having just bought ‘us’ an apartment – little did I know what was in store.    The last ten years saw many losses; my marriage, my home, my job, my father and many friends who passed far too young, but despite the sadness, I am still blessed and for that I am eternally thankful.  I can’t say my cup is brimming over with happiness, but I’m not unhappy either – rather a sense of contentment and fulfilment.  The joy for a mother to see her children happily married to loving, caring and respectful partners and the wonderful gift of a loving family and friends and the highlight of grandchildren cannot be underestimated or adequately measured and as long as they are all well and happy, what more can I ask for?


So what’s new for 2010?   It’s probably just as well we don’t know what tomorrow brings, but for me I feel the time is right for a change of scene –  they did it in Israel!   


I really do fancy a new start – a blank canvas – gutting out rooms and remodelling, redecorating and refurnishing whilst I still have the energy and strength, but not this house – I do love it now and it has served me well – if I could lift it and move it I would.  It  is so true what they say – location location location is everything and living on an uninspiring characterless development is not where I wish to end my days.   I’ve had my HIP done (no not that kind – a Home Information Pack) and in the new year I shall get the ball rolling.   

As for other resolutions – humbug – nonsense – we don’t need a date to change or reflect or think of what was, what is, what might have been.  We can look into our hearts and souls any day of the year; it’s never too late to change.   As they say, out with the old (and the bad) – in with the new (and the good)!

with every best wish for a blessed 2010 to all my blogging family and friends

at the park with their greatgrandma
at the park with their greatgrandma


on the london underground
on the london underground




It has been an amazing few weeks – for the last four weekends house-guests and dinner-guests have graced my home and table; I loved every minute but the last ten days was the greatest pleasure of them all.    I was on cloud nine, but now I am brought back to earth – they have gone home  boo hoo 😦    and I miss them already.  

Admitting I’m exhausted is an understatement, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.   While the children were here my ma celebrated her birthday; lots of fuss sharing it with her greatgrandchildren turned it into a very special day and one to remember.

Sadly, at the same time we were commemorating the anniversary of my father’s passing four years ago yesterday.   I was at jojo’s blog recently and read how she wanted to contact a facebook friend and was shocked to learn she had died.   Just as shocked to see in the news yesterday the death of Stephen Gately… a waste of a wonderful talent.   Death, the one thing we have in common – it will happen to us all one day.   I think about it a lot, but not in a morbid way.   I believe our physical lives here is a testing ground for our eternal spiritual life; we learn here, we learn there and so life goes on.    What lives for ever is the impact we make on other people; hoping to leave a good name and good memories, a lasting legacy and that when we go our lives will be something to celebrate.

Having said that, we also suffered another loss.   Some of you may recall my stories of  ‘the Ferrari driving lech’ – he died – what a shock that was.    He lived his life to the full and I imagine he has found a great golf course up there with an excellent nineteenth watering hole.   Of course his passing meant I conveyed my condolences to his cousin, my ex, as they were very close like brothers and good friends.   You’d think after all this time  hearing his voice wouldn’t affect me; it did.   I am still confused, still don’t understand how we are where we are, especially when he still calls me ‘doll’.   This one’s for him!

Divine Retribution

We’re apart – for now
You’re doing your ‘thing’
But, when day is done
We’ll likely be together
In the world to come
You’ll think you’ve gone to hell
In heaven, I shall be
That, my love, is destiny


The v-vixens have also been suffering a shock and loss and reactions around blogdom can be likened to a bereavement.    I’m surprised Kleenex sales haven’t boomed.

Detective Robert Goren is leaving lo:ci!  Detective Robert Goren a fictional character, the creation of the brilliantly talented Vincent D’Onofrio and the most fantastic fantasy fodder ever.  Vincent you naughty boy, you knew what buttons to push and that women would be swooning over gorgeous multi-talented sex on legs Goren.    However, thank goodness Vincent D’Onofrio is real and lives on.  Our detective is leaving the show and mercifully not in a bag or wooden box, which means the door is still open, but I won’t hold my breath!   

I asked elsewhere, did he jump or was he pushed?   I don’t think it would have taken much of a shove for Vincent to exit stage left and I am excitedly looking forward to his new projects, maybe much bigger parts for us to savour on the big screen (take that comment how you wish).     Sure Bobby Bobby will be sorely missed; I’ve been watching the show again from the very beginning on Quest, not that I needed that to see the enormous changes in him, the storylines, the intros, etc. and not all necessarily to the improvement of the show.  I don’t belittle Vincent’s acting talent; he had to do his best with lousy writing and no amount of decent direction could rescue that – I’m sorry, but to discover he was the illegitimate son of a convicted serial killer and his ‘on the verge of dementia’ aged puny mentor bumped off his nemesis and we didn’t actually get to see the happy event, were two threads too far off the radar.    I always believe it’s better to leave on a high, so hopefully the powers that be will pull out all the stops so that the two hour special series opener will be Vincent, Katherine and Eric’s high notes.   Imho, ITWSH was brilliant – it can be done again!  



 … guess this is how the vixens feel!

first day of school moriahfirst day of school boaz

… which means the traffic to work will be horrendous – getting to work in 10-15 minutes the past six weeks has been a joy – now it’ll be back to the 30-45 minutes stop start stop start… yawn yawn yawn 

Jonathan just sent me the pics and, of course, proud booba had to share.   The exciting news is that they’re all coming to London in a few weeks for the whole of Sukkot.   Originally I was going out there with my mother after the chagim (the jewish holidays) but when they suggested coming here I was over the moon.    I shall be there again in January anyway for the birth of number three.   Sorry, I blog so infrequently that I don’t think I got round to mentioning that exciting piece of news.   In February there’ll be another special trip, like the one I took earlier this year, and PG I’ll do it again.   We’ll likely visit different sites, but no doubt we’ll meet with the same angels and certainly the same victims of terror and their families to see how they’re getting on.

I feel a bit strange doing this rambling post, as it’s been so long.   I’m stuck at home carless, since it’s gone in for a service and altho’ they offered me a courtesy car I couldn’t be bothered and thought I’d make the most of a day at home to make my honey cakes and kugels.   As usual my home will be turned into Hotel Raven over all the festivals, but I wouldn’t have it any other way; I love it when they all come to stay.

Book Club is still going strong.  I wasn’t enthralled with George Eliot’s pontificating in Daniel Deronda.   If I had managed to get that far I’m sure the Jewish element of the book would have fascinated me as it was quite something for a sympathetic viewpoint to have been written in Victorian times – however after 300 pages and nothing happening, I confess to giving up.   I don’t need the book for the knowledge it imparted, since that is marked in the archives of history and I know it well.   Last night’s offering was Anita & Me by Meera Syal.  This received mixed reviews mostly by those who criticised the writing style, which I had to agree was over-anecdotal and the description in parts was over-laboured.  However I could forgive that because the book was semi-autobiographical and offered a good insight into the life of a young, bright, mouthy Asian girl brought up by well-educated and aspiring parents, the only coloured family in a small 60’s Midland’s mining village.  Many regard the book as filled with humour, but it’s a bittersweet story and I think the humour used is a defence mechanism against a backdrop of desperately wanting to grow up and be like, and be liked by, her peers (“What do yow wanna be when you grow up chuck?”   “Blonde!”) and her introduction to racism, both when she learnt about her parent’s struggles with partition and the dawning of racism in her village during the Enoch Powell years of “Paki-bashing”.   The ending sadly was a big disappointment.  It was like a fairytale, which I will not give away, miles away from the substance and depth of the book, and there is a depth to it.   I know it’s a bugbear of mine, but why oh why, when I’ve enjoyed a book so much, do they always end so poorly?    Next month’s read should be a hoot – Bill Bryson’s Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid, so watch this space!    I won’t go into everything I’ve read recently – enough’s enough!

Next week I start a new writing course and I am absolutely terrified!   Although I love poetry, and I do need all the help I can get, the first part of the lesson is fiction – I used to think I had a book in me – in fact I think everyone probably does – but I lack discipline and motivation and am easily tempted away when someone says do you wanna do lunch or go shopping and my penchant for certain cop shows is a major distraction.      A hobby is a hobby; my blog is as brave and as far as I’m prepared to go at sharing.

Did anyone see the latest adaptation of Wuthering Heights over the weekend?   Sorry, did any Brits?    It makes me want to revisit the novel, because I don’t remember hating Heathcliff as much as I did this time and how could Cathy not want the charming and handsome Edgar… and and and what about that scene in the coffin… ach!   I didn’t know that the ‘wuthering’ of the title is a Yorkshire word for turbulent weather.   This version was not true to the story but for all that it was a pleasant diversion for a bank holiday weekend.  

wuthering heights

Right back to the Kenwood –   I’ve just taken one cake out the oven and it’s burnt – I was on the phone and I could smell it, but still waited for the oven to beep – duh! 


A dear friend has suggested the reason I’ve not blogged for a while is because I don’t have a life – I think she may be right, especially when the highlight of my life this week was my excitement at filling my tank up for just under £40.00 – albeit with the benefit of 5p off a litre from a Tesco coupon – reducing the price to under 90p… wow! At first I was so excited to see petrol go below £1.00 a litre and am always comparing prices in my neck of the wood to those of North London where my car seems to go on autopilot round the North Circular, but it’s still an extortionate price so, excuse the pun when I say, they still have us over a barrel.

I’m still doing book club and last month’s read was my choice. I’ve always loved the writing style of Isabel Allende and hoping my friends would share my taste, I resurrected an old fav of mine, The House of the Spirits. Allende’s writing is so colourful and this book moved at a fast pace through four generations. One character who plays no great part, but is alluded to, is called the Poet and he was probably based on Pablo Neruda whose work moves me so much. When I had my London~Love~Vincent blog I felt his following poems perfectly mirrored Robert E Howard’s highs and lows in his relationship with Novalynne. As many of you know, I love poetry and I love Vincent D’Onofrio and I love TWWW; I shall never waiver from my belief that Vincent’s portrayal of REH was his absolute uber-best performance.


Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Lines

Pablo Neruda

Write, for example, “The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.”
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms. I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes?
Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her. The night is starry and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer. My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another’s. She will be another’s. As she was before my kisses. Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that’s certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her.


I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You

Pablo Neruda

I do not love you except because I love you; I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you My heart moves from cold to fire.
I love you only because it’s you the one I love; I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.
Maybe January light will consume My heart with its cruel ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you
Because I love you,
Love, in fire and blood.



Guess where I’ll be this time next week…



Time Out

Posted on: 5 November 2008


“For every human being there rises a light that reaches straight into heaven. And when two souls that are destined to be together find each other, their streams of light flow together, and a single brighter light goes forth from their united being.”

– Baal Shem Tov


I can’t believe it’s been so long since I posted… I guess I should call it a semi-sabbatical, but I haven’t exactly been resting on my laurels and I have done a little lurking and a little commenting here and there, although on many occasion I really haven’t had anything to say for myself that was any different or any more original than what had already been said.

More or less as soon as we were back from Israel I was preparing for all the Jewish Festivals, lots and lots of them, four weeks in a row. As usual, good ol’ Ann had assorted houseguests and dinner guests. Then, because I was off work for all of them (actually the office was closed) I’m now working more days and longer hours to play catchup. I am also undergoing a course of weekly medical treatments (nothing sinister) which I hope will do me a lot of good healthwise, but I have to schlep to Notting Hill for them. Sadly the reason I am free this afternoon to post is because some poor soul caused the Central Line to be suspended and I couldn’t get there today. When I heard this news, my initial thought went to the people at Rachel’s work; seems today is redundancy day and I had horrendous thoughts of someone losing their job and hurling themselves under a train… echoes of the Great Depression.

I am reading voraciously. Amongst other good reads, someone recommended Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale… well it was different and compelling and evoked much discussion, which I would love to share with anyone who has read it. I seem to have been suffering from movie-mania lately too and chilling out in front of the box. I saw an ab brill film called The Illusionist; loved it loved it loved it. Also got to see the latest James Bond offering… boring boring boring.

Are you my friends across the Pond still debating the Presidency? I’m knackered… I found it all so fascinating I was up till 2.30 a.m. until exhaustion and a little common sense (yes I do have some sometimes) forced me to my bed. I’m wondering if the words on Obama’s lips is: “That’s another fine mess you got me into Stanley George!” Excuse me if I am being somewhat naive and okay, so he’s the first black American president, but have I lost the plot? Surely his colour is not an issue. Did he not win because he was 1) the better man for the job and 2) after 8 years of Bush/Republican rule… say no more! Good luck Obama… you will need tons of it and tons of support and I hope the honeymoon lasts for ever.


The wedding, and planning it, took on a life of its own and overtook mine. It was worth it; the whole trip was amazing, awesome, wicked, wonderful and many many more words I cannot begin to think of to describe it all. From the moment we arrived, not counting various meetings with the wedding planner, the venue, the band, the designer, etc, the rest was fun fun fun. Lots of cocktails and dinners out and parties as everyone arrived, then the Friday night saw 46 of us together for Shabbat dinner. The next morning was Daniel’s aufruf held at his late grandfather’s synagogue (near the British Embassy) followed by a beautiful meal in a hotel nearby. After Shabbat a girlfriend of Rachel’s took us to the mikveh; it was like a spa and enhanced this particular mitzvah. Sunday we were meant to chill out… yeah, some hope because the next day… drum roll, was THE DAY!

Okay, now the pics above are not the official ones and I’m sorry they are out of sequence; it’s the way I downloaded them. These were taken by my ex, Rachel’s daddy, so of course there’s none of yours truly 🙂 shame!!!

The first three pictures of Rachel are in the yichud room where she is waiting for Daniel to come and perform the bedeken ceremony following the tish (all explained in blue print below if you’re at all interested). The room was beautiful and these photos don’t do it justice. The official photos, when I do get hold of the disk from the young couple and download them on to this decrepit machine (or a new one if I ever get my act together) – has anyone got any suggestions for a good lightweight efficient effective laptop – not an apple? Where was I, oh yes, those pics will be much better but I’d better not hold my breath waiting for them.

Bedeken and Tish
The bedeken, which translates as “veiling,” is the groom’s veiling of his bride immediately before the ceremony. The custom is said to be based upon the Biblical story in which Jacob, intending to marry Rachel, accidentally marries her older sister Leah, who wore a veil. In addition to having the groom verify that he is marrying the right woman, the bedeken is often preceded by singing and dancing around the bride, who sits on a thronelike chair. Traditionally, the men gather around the groom for the tish, or groom’s “table.” At the tish, the nervous groom traditionally attempts to deliver some words about the Torah portion while his friends and family take the pressure off by constantly interrupting him with jokes, toasts, singing, and dancing. At the end of the tish, family and friends carry the groom into the bedeken for veiling and continue singing and dancing around the bride. Even if there are aspects of these customs that seem to be based on anachronistic values, such as the separation of men and women and the contrast of the bride sitting to be admired for her beauty, while the groom tries to teach, it is recommend that thinking about ways to incorporate the traditions that are comfortable and consistent with their values. They offer a way to start the celebration early and to get everyone in the right, festive frame of mind. If the gender separation is not something one feels comfortable with, the two ceremonies can be combined in one place. Some brides also try to teach something, an update that is quite popular. Finally, even if one doesn’t want a public bedeken, some couples do the veiling in a more private location, such as the rabbi’s study at the synagogue or in the yichud room.

The next photo is one of the first of the couple officially married after the chuppah… as I said when I get the official ones… blah blah blah, yeah yeah yeah

The “chuppah” is the most universally recognized symbol of a Jewish wedding, the structure under which the ceremony takes place, generally consisting of a cloth canopy, sometimes a tallit, beneath which the bride and groom stand. The wedding ceremony itself is sometimes referred to as the “chuppah,” often on invitations announcing the time for the ceremony. The ceremony itself is a conglomeration of legal recitations and customs. The wedding ceremony consists of two parts, erusin (also called kiddushin), which is the legal agreement by which the bride and groom are betrothed to each other, and nissuin, the nuptials and the active beginning of the new union between the bride and groom.

Circling is a great example of a custom with multiple variations that is attributed to different sources. The numbers of circuits is usually either seven or three. According to one variation, the bride circles the groom alone, while in another, she is escorted on either side by a bridesmaid with a candle. Sometimes, the bride is accompanied by the singing of a traditional hymn or with nigun, a wordless melody. The custom of circling is attributed to multiple sources and given multiple explanations. One source cited for the custom is a verse from Jeremiah: “for the Lord hath created a new thing in the Earth, a woman shall compass a man.” (Jeremiah 31: 21). One source for three circles is a verse from Hosea with three descriptions of God’s betrothal to Israel: “Thus says the Lord, I will betroth you to Me forever. I will betroth you with righteousness, with justice, with love, and with compassion. I will betroth you to Me with faithfulness, and you shall love the Lord.” (Hosea 2:21-22) The number seven is generally considered a number of good fortune in Judaism, and is attributed to various sources. One Kabbalistic explanation for the number seven is that it symbolizes the removal of seven shells of solitude encrusting the groom’s soul, so that it can be encompassed by the luminescence of his bride. As we mention above, many couples opt to update the custom by having the bride and groom walk around each other, or by having both walk around the chuppah together. No matter what variation feels most comfortable to the couple, they are encouraged to think about incorporating the custom of circling. It has endured as a custom for good reason; it can have a powerful effect on the bride and groom and everyone present.

Birkat Erusin
The ceremony traditionally begins with greetings, customarily taken from Psalms (118:26), both to all present and to the bride and groom. The erusin ceremony then begins with the kiddush, the blessing over wine, followed by the birkat erusin, the betrothal blessings, after which the couple drinks the wine.

The Ring Ceremony
According to tradition, the central act of erusin is the groom’s giving and the bride’s acceptance of the ring, coupled with the recitation of the Hebrew formula known as haray aht, which translates as, “By this ring you are consecrated to me as my wife in accordance with the traditions of Moses and Israel.” The groom then completes the erusin ceremony by placing the ring on the bride’s hand, traditionally on her right index finger, which stems from the ancient belief that the index finger was directly connected to the heart. Today, many couples make the ring ceremony reciprocal by including the bride’s placement of a ring on the groom’s finger, accompanied by the bride’s recitation of either the same formula as the groom (haray atah) or with the recitation of another verse, such as the Hebrew verse that translates as, “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.” Some Orthodox couples prefer to separate the bride’s placement of a ring on her groom’s finger by doing it later in the day, such as during yichud. Traditionally, in order to separate the erusin ceremony from the nissuin that follows, the ketubah (the written marriage contract) is read aloud and then handed by the groom to the bride. At some weddings, the groom hands the ketubah to the bride at the time of the bedeken.

Sheva Berachot
Nissuin begins with a second kiddush, followed by the sheva berachot (the seven blessings) and yichud. The sheva berachot begin with the blessing over wine, then praise God for creation, for human life, for the bride and groom separately, for fertility and children, and finally in the sixth and seventh blessings, for the companionship and joy of the bride and groom together. The ceremony concluded, the groom then breaks a glass, and the bride and groom traditionally retreat to yichud, a moment of seclusion in which the bride and groom can share their first meal as newlyweds.

Breaking the Glass
Few Jewish wedding traditions are as well known as the groom’s smashing of the glass at the conclusion of the ceremony. Different explanations for the act of breaking the glass abound: that it reminds us of the fragility of personal relationships so that the bride and groom take care to their intact; that it ushers in the outbreak of celebration that should immediately follow, that the breaking recalls the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem, so that we remember sadness at the height of personal joy. Two older explanations are that the shattering scares off any demons attracted by the event; or that it symbolizes the consummation of the marriage.

Yichud is a time for the bride and groom to be alone together immediately after the ceremony. It is actually the final legal requirement of the wedding. (According to Jewish law, the requirements for a wedding are the birkat erusin, the recitation of the haray aht formula coupled with the groom’s placement of a ring on the bride’s finger, the sheva berachot, and yichud.)

With the ceremony completed, it is a mitzvah — a religious obligation — of the guests present to bring joy to the heart of a new bride and her new husband. You have to love that , a religious commandment to party. Sheva Berachot Dinners Sheva Berachot dinners are a way to keep the wedding celebration going even after the wedding day. In the Orthodox world, these dinners are held for seven nights after the wedding, after which blessings for the bride and groom are recited by someone present who was not at the wedding.

The next two pics are Daniel’s after dinner speech and Rachel lovingly lapping up every loving flattering word… aaaaaaaaaah! Then there’s a line up of my lot with their spouses and my two ab fab fav little people. The next five shots are of the venue, which was absolutely breathtaking and dazzling in the sunshine, but even more spectacular lit up at night… official photos will paint a truer picture, when I get them etc etc etc.

Totally out of order are Boaz and Moriah enjoying the pool and then there they are scrubbed up for the big event. They had an absolute ball. Following on are pics of the night after the day before. The first of the sheva brachot (see above in blue if you like). This particular one was hosted by Daniel’s parents and siblings and was lotsa fun and yummy. The next evening we were invited to another given by Daniel’s uncle and aunt and his many cousins. Everyone was incredibly welcoming and hospitable. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much… all absolutely scrumptious and delish. Well that was until the chagim (festivals) and I’m still struggling to lose weight; the story of my life. I had fewer trick or treaters this year and bought so much stuff just in case, so have been dipping into that naughty bag of goodies… too too many treats… all chocolate! I should’ve bought things I don’t like, but there’s not much; I’m not that discerning.

Talking of Halloween, I learnt something interesting recently. Here trick or treat means if you don’t give whoever comes-a-calling a treat, they can give you a nasty mean trick, e.g. throwing eggs at your door or windows or car, or putting something ghastly thru’ the letter box, which makes Halloween here pretty scary and threatening. However it seems that in America, trick or treat is much more family and friends orientated and a jolly affair and trick or treat means whoever comes-a-calling can be given either a treat (i.e. confectionary) or a trick (i.e. magic). Why does this country get it all so wrong?

Okay, back to the rogues gallery. The last two shots are Rachel’s bridesmaids and bestest friends since they were babies.

Believe it or not, I am actually here for the whole of November, but it’s gonna be a busy one. I’m on another learning course again this month (gotta use the grey cells) and I’m also learning Israeli dancing every week this month to raise money for a particular cause in memory of a dear late friend of mine. Then… I’m away in December… twice. In four weeks I’m going for a long weekend to Israel to see the little ones and then I’m going back to Florida to chill out and have some fun with Brian and Diane over Christmas and the New Year. I have another trip to Israel booked for February – something slightly different, more of which nearer the time – but after that, the way the economy, and my economy, is going I think I shall have to review my wanderlust. I got a tax rebate. I should be happy. I’m not. It was my money. It also meant a drop in income, a big drop. Before this awful business, I was doing my sums and thinking about an early retirement, now I hope the boss wants me even more days in the new year.

I shall finish with a few words that came to me one night after I returned from Israel and walked into my house alone and realised that was it, they were all gone and building their own homes and families


Alone Again

each one takes
that little piece
of you they need
then they’re gone

they belong
no more to you
now they belong
to someone new

no more whole
a hollow soul
the emptiness
of an empty nest


I guess I have been keeping a fairly low profile lately and, gosh, it’s been a whole month since I last posted, so what’s been going on since then that’s kept me away from blogdom. I have lurked and commented here and there a little… I mean what a weekend to discover Five Minutes Mr Welles was on YouTube; the only piece of Vincent D’Onofrio that we thought was beyond our reach and never in our wildest dreams that we, his loyal fans, would ever get to watch. Of course a DVD wouldn’t actually go amiss. Still this caused quite a stir in the lives of the V-Vixons. I won’t copy it again here or even review it, yet! It’s linked for anyone who hasn’t seen it elsewhere. Whoever posted it has done it in the name of the man himself. Thank you whoever you are, especially if it’s you Vincent sweetheart, but if it’s not you dear Vincent, then shame on the person who is using your name… you’re naughty but nice!

Oh and wasn’t PURGATORY absolutely wonderful. Poor Bobby Bobby. I know it’s all been said elsewhere, but I still had to get my tuppence worth in.


At the playground

Boaz at the Zoo

My trip to Israel was fantastic; I had a wonderful time with the children, they were an absolute joy. I also managed to catch up with a number of people, friends and business, but mostly chilling out with the babies. The day following Shavuot Jon and Bridgitte had to go to work and Moriah’s nursery was open, but Boaz had the day off, so it was quality time with gwandma. We were going to the zoo, just the two of us… he was so excited; children just know when they’re gonna be well and truly spoilt and get lots and lotsa treats. His only disappointment was the bus… it didn’t show up, which meant we had to hitch a ride. It kinda reminded me nostalgically of my single days tramping through the country and since everyone does it, it didn’t bother me now either. As much as Boaz had, to quote him, “the best day ever,” he was also woefully saying to his daddy, “the bus didn’t come, aba, the bus didn’t come.”

I am trying to teach my darling grandson English. It’s not because he only speaks Ivrit; he’s bilingual, BUT he speaks with a New York accent. Bob the Builder is Baab and water is waaarter and bath is baaaarth. He giggles when he mimics me… even my son has lost his English accent. He told me that someone he knew some years back from London asked if he was at the swimming pool a couple of weeks earlier. She said it looked like you with these two gorgeous blonde children, then you opened your mouth and I thought it was an American.

Poor Moriah got poorly whilst I was there and within a day or two I was coughing away and I’d lost my voice; luckily I didn’t feel poorly until, yeah, I got home. I waited a couple of hours at the quack for an emergency appointment and, without hesitation, he prescribed me horse pill sized antibiotics. I only have two days of them left and my throat is sorer than ever, I’m coughing much the same and my voice is still barely audible… although some say I sound sexy… huh!!!! Actually I’m supposed to be calling some new guy, but I don’t want to give him the wrong impression, although, hmmmm…. maybe I should. I was toying with calling him tonight, but I’ve been out all day and now it’s too late to call… shucks! Still, as they say, tomorrow is another day!

So where have I been all day? Yes, Jamie and Lucy moved flats (apartments) today, so Lucy’s mum and aunt and I were busy unpacking boxes and, as exhausting and backbreaking as it all was, we really got on with it and helped them break the back of it all. They’ve moved from a small two-bedder in Borehamwood, to a really spacious three-bedder in a beautiful tree-lined street in Barnet, for any of you Londoners who know the area. They say location location location is everything, well this really is a lovely lovely spot.

Me being poorly put me on a massive guilt trip because the day I came home mother was going into hospital for tests and the next day I was gonna collect her and bring her to recover chez moi. Of course that was not gonna happen… not a good idea at all. And I had to put the rest of the family off from coming for Friday night dinner… guilt trip numero deux, but I shall make it up to them this week.

Following me freaking out about my brother and his heart surgery, before I went away I saw a cardiologist and had an assortment of tests, the most conclusive one being a 64 multislice scan. Between us Ray and I have inherited assorted things from our folks and I know that many years ago, in my prime, I had my womanhood removed just as my ma had… well of course my bro wasn’t gonna cop that one. However when she underwent open-heart surgery about 11 years ago I dreaded the worst and have popped preventative medication to avoid the ‘like mother like daughter‘ scenario again. Yesterday I got the results. You know i have to thank my GP, because without being overdramatic, his foresight has saved me surgery. There is evidence of coronary heart disease which we had suspected, genes and all that, but with aggressive doses of some relatively new medication, my lovely heart guy believes it can be successfully treated that way. Phew!!!!! I can’t tell you how relieved I am and I’m pleased to report that Ray is recovering brilliantly.

In the meantime I have signed up for a new Jewish learning course… something I used to do fairly regularly until I got kinda lazy lumpy and lethargic. The first lecture was Monday and it felt good to be stimulating my mind again. Having said that I’ve been quite the bookworm too. Has anyone read Ian McEwan’s Atonement? This was chosen by my bookclub a few months ago. I had tried to read it a couple of years earlier and it became a chore to read; I was simply not enjoying it. It was the story I didn’t like, not Ian McEwan’s excellent writing skill. I confessed as such at the meeting, but all my friends raved about the book and they must’ve discussed it for a good couple of hours. I was stunned, so, I thought I’d give it another try and see what I’d missed. I read it… every single word. I still didn’t like it! DOH!

I managed to dodge the Jane Eyre meeting… thank goodness! I used to love the classics, but I really have to be in the right frame of mind to pick one up these days. However I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed Deborah Moggach’s These Foolish Things and 50/50 enjoyed/got irritated by Danny Scheinmann’s Random Acts of Heroic Love. I’m not sure if I ever mentioned Salmon Fishing in the Yemen by Paul Torday… loved it, loved it, loved it! The next book on the list is Phillipa Gregory’s The Other Boleyn Girl… I felt sure I had it sitting on my bookcase, but it seems to be other Boleyn books. For quick bursts I’ve been dipping into Jeffrey Deaver’s second book of short stories… perfect for flying!

I’m sure I had some other nonsense to tell you, but if I don’t write it down, I don’t remember. Probably about the wedding… OY YA YOY!!!!! They say, “it’ll be alright on the night” – it had better be, this wedding is costing more even as I skip over the keys. The shekel is amazingly strong at the moment… last year we got over 8 to the pound and this year only 6, which means the wedding, by default, is automatically 25% more expensive, and the budget was higher this time round anyway… DOUBLE OY YA YOY!!!! It has been suggested by some that I tell the ex (he is the bride’s father after all) but I know him too well… he will stick to his budget and say tough… TREBLE OY YA YOY!!!!! There may be some news on the dress front by the time I next get round to posting, but, don’t hold your breath. I just can’t seem to get my head round it even though I spent most of the morning emailing the wedding planner backwards and forwards. The wedding is only 12 weeks away… we travel in 11 weeks… HELP!



torn this way, torn that
so many needs to please
but at what cost

whose needs
precede the one before
when one has to be last

the goalposts move
fine line to cross
the price is high

between right and wrong
and risk of loss
guilt is hard to bear

you can’t be there
you cannot share
every part of you

not with everyone you love
no matter how much you do
it’s never enough

there must an art
to all this stuff
before it tears your heart apart

and there’s nothing left
for anyone
not even you


Brrrrrr… this is Neve Daniel yesterday or maybe the day before; I saw these pics when I got home from work last night.  Neve Daniel is on the top of a hillside; it is high up and it seems it’s only there and the north of Israel that got snowed in.   I sure hope it’s gone by the time I arrive… I do not like the snow and it doesn’t like me.  I am not a pretty sight struggling on the ice and slipping and landing on my **** but it looks like Boaz is having fun and I thought it was cold here.   Talking of which, I sure appreciate the seat warmer in my car 🙂


I’m trying to lose weight again.    My weight is usually stuck at a very neat round figure, but I really need to neaten it down a neat round stone at least (that is 14lbs for you yanks).   It reaches a plateau and when I exceed it, those few naughty pounds generally come off easily, but sliding downhill off the plateau is proving tricky.   Yoyo dieting is my problem so my metabolic rate is lethargically slow and my body is used to low fat and low cals that it takes very little naughtiness to gain weight and a diet of bugger all to lose it.

Recently I found a programme called Diet Doctors; Inside and Out which is most interesting.  The participants are all, obviously, overweight, but they also have health issues that need to be addressed.  Apart from one very stupid woman who irritated me no end since she said she learnt nothing new because they didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know.  She refused to give up smoking even though she’d had a thrombosis when she was 11 and she refused to put into practice their diet and exercise advice, that she actually gained weight… doh!    Twelve weeks later everyone else’s health is much improved and they look wonderful.

After watching the programme I am filled with great resolve to be a good girl until I turn over and watch Nigella.  I think Nigella is a bit like Marmite… you either love her or hate her.   I enjoyed Nigella Bites, but Nigella Express was… well… weird.   She loves cooking (so do I) and she loves her food (so do I).   Why is life so complicated?


In am struggling with my book, We Need to Talk About Kevin, and the meeting is next week.   It has become something akin to homework and I never did like homework.  I have been told to persevere because there is a twist, but I am wondering whether to skip to the end, google it and crib or wait and be put out my misery.  Watch this space!


Another week, so here’s the latest on my foray into internet dating, although I have actually yet to meet any of these men in the flesh so to speak.  They all sweet talk.  They all flatter.  They all shmooze.  They all talk about tactile and passion.  So, I still get these emails every day, or several times a day,  saying “we have matches for you” which is a loada baloney.       The youngsters are still at it, but I ignore them.  I told Jamie about the 31 year olds and he shifted about somewhat embarrassed then told me that apparently some of Jon’s peers used to fancy me when they were like 15 or 16.  That was about 15 years ago… UGH! 

Still  I have corresponded with a couple of seemingly nice men, having made the initial contact myself.   This dating group’s motto is “it’s okay to make the first move.”   The first guy I tried told me that timing is everything and I’m too late; he’d met someone, so I just wished him luck.  I wasn’t sure whether to add that if it fell apart, you know… but I didn’t want to seem too pushy.      

Then I saw another profile that read well.   I emailed him and my parting words were that I would still appreciate the courtesy of a reply even if it’s to tell me I’m not his cup of tea.   He did reply and said he’d like to correspond, but he’s in Israel at the moment and will be back next week.   I answered him, but haven’t heard another word!   

Today I read another profile I liked, so tried again.    This guy actually IM’d me back immediately, but he happened to be in Miami and will also be back in the country next week, so we chatted for a while until he asked me to telephone him.   I did, but the hotel wouldn’t put me through without a surname and I only knew his first name.   He told me.   It was Cohen.   Ah… that opens a whole new can of worms.  

A Cohen is a descendent from Aaron, the brother of Moses, who was a priest.  Although today most of the priestly duties no longer exist, a Cohen is prohibited from marrying a divorced woman.   In fact I read another profile I liked and as an afterthought this man had actually written that no divorcees should contact him.    The point is I am looking for a fairly observant man because, well I am, but this truly pains me.  It is Jewish law and I have to accept it (not that I’m sure I want to marry anyway, although all the men I’ve spoken to believe that’s what all the women want).  Of course, it’s not a problem if you’re not orthodox because there are plenty of Liberal/Reform/Conservative alternatives.

The funny thing is that coincidentally and without exception, all these men are younger than me; so… all in all very interesting, but I won’t hold my breath.  

Right, must move myself as the mob will be here any minute and I’ve still got to set the table.   I hope I get round to seeing ya’all  and you and yours have a superduper weekend and Shabbat Shalom.  

P.S.  Later today

I have a confession and likely it’s not much different to most ladies who have a problem with body image and a loathing for a particular part of their body, although in my case it’s most of it.    I caught another prog tonite and typical of me, it was the last in the series, so I hope it gets repeated.   It was something like looking good naked, but the woman who thought she looked naf and wore her hubbies baggy t-shirts had a wonderful hour-glass figure… and she was young…. and she was beautiful. HUH!   But, there were about 100 women of all ages, shapes and sizes happily prancing around in their underwear in front of the cameras…  this got me thinking, again…

… because

every single man I have spoken to from this online dating thingy is obsessed with my body, asking an assortment of questions about my size, my weight, what kinda clothes I wear, where I shop, how trendy am I, do I wear high heels, makeup, lipgloss, even my vital statistics and remarking how titchy I am because I’m only 5’0″ tall short (I think petite sounds so much nicer) and exactly just how fat cuddly am I, that I invariably come off the phone feeling uncomfortable and inadequate and thinking it would probably be best if we don’t ever actually meet because they are sure gonna be in for a mega disappointment. 

Today’s guy saw my picci from Jamie’s wedding and guessed I was a size 10 (a U.S. size 6)… yeah well I was once and those clothes are now lurking in an abandoned wardrobe in one of my spare bedrooms; I certainly wasn’t last summer.   It’s now becoming an art form in how to avoid answering these questions and suggesting that a little mystery is no bad thing.   Next time I shall be a little more assertive and on the offensive and ask the next poor guy why it’s so important to him… that should be interesting!  This is quite a learning curve and would I be so bold?

Do I ask them the size of their chest, their neck measurement, whether they’re bald or hirsute, how old their pic is on their profile, their weight or especially the size of their hands and feet so I can maybe gauge the size of their dangly bits?   No, of course, I don’t, that would be plain rude.    Let’s take our dearest darling Vincent D’Onofrio… yes let’s take him.    Most of his fans first discovered him as the quirky uberhero ultra intelligent big big big Bobby Goren  and over seven seasons he is obviously older, like by seven years, but he is also fatter cuddlier and greyer his hair is salt and pepper and the wrinkles frownlines are appearing and he is still under 50… but..

…  have we stopped loving him?  NO NO NO! 

…  do we still fancy the pants off him?   YES YES YES!

Vincent is not classically handsome; the Hollywood stereotype.   You can’t put your finger on exactly what it is that makes him attractive to millions of women; he just has that je ne sais quoi that exudes masculinity and sexuality, but to me so does Patrick Stewart and Alan Rickman and Colin Firth and Bill Nighy and none of them look alike.   So my question is, why are these men  so preoccupied with looks when it’s something impalpable, intangible and elusive that draws two people together, and often two unlikely people? 

P.P.S.  The almost Vincent lookalike has still not opened my email; maybe he’s one of online dating’s success stories 😉

the loves of my life

at the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet ~~~ plato

thank you…

... to everyone whose pictures and videos I have borrowed; if anyone would like theirs to be removed, please tell me and I shall be happy to do so

all words here are mine ~ I’ll tell you when they’re not!

from long ago

in case I forget what day of the week it is

October 2021