In Which the Rain Does Not Cease

My dear friend Julia just gave me tea at her house, and I must say it was lovely. She certainly knows how to make a pot of tea, despite the fact she is half-Indian. Though I suppose her ancestors had plenty of practice under the British Empire. We were commenting on the rainy weather and how it wreaks havoc on our sinuses. She said something to the effect that she was rapidly becoming like those elderly women who keep bunches of tissues in sleeves and in huddles by their beds. I responded that I had already become one of those ladies, holding the firm belief that one should never leave the house without an umbrella or tissues.

With the rainy weather—it is spring, after all—I am forced to bring huge clumpfuls of tissues to the grocery store and library. I’ve even taken to untangling the messes of Kleenex in a private corner or even the bathroom just to avoid stares.

Julia agreed such sinus problems are a great burden and reminded me that we had been talking about Sudan just a moment previous. I clasped my hands and apologized: I’m just such a scatterbrain! Begin on one subject and my mind naturally gravitates toward another. My creativity can be a burden.

Julia showed me some lovely little measuring cups she got at this store Anthropologie that were so quaint. But now I am afraid they are too much like something an old cat lady would own, so I have declined her offer to visit the store some time later this week. One must have boundaries.

A Little Dinner Entertainment

As I was preparing some lovely pasta and mixing my dear cats' food, I thought of a lovely film my readers might enjoy. It is called Vampyr: Der Traum des Allan Grey and it is a lovely little film by Carl Dreyer (whom you may know from his The Passion of Joan of Arc fame). It is a bit older than the more famous, though undeservedly so, Nosferatu. I bring up this subject as there appears to be a mild furor in the States, according to my niece, over the paranormal.

I look forward with great enthusiasm to watching this gem once more. On occasion, when the moon is decidedly full, I think my cats are such "creatures of the night" as they lurk in bed yawning and mewing slightly. My dinner will be a quiet one, my favorite mode of eating. All this tradition of eating with such noise and conversation I really cannot fathom. Why would one wish food so decidedly distracted with company and other people? Fortunately, I do not make such a sacrifice and instead I can eat quietly and watch a little of Vampyr.

Here is a short clip:

A Rainy Day with the Bathynomi and a Few Tabbys

My dear readers, today there is a light rain though I long for the days of sunshine and warmth that pervade with the encroaching song of summer. My cats have longed for this day as much as I. Not only Georgie, for his arthritic limbs cause him much distress, but also Alice and Alfred (my twins) who have a great dislike for the spring rains and yowl such pain I do not know how I can stand it.

There is, however, one advantage to this dreary weather. The noodle owners downstairs go on extended vacations around this time, and for a few brief weeks I do not have to continually wash my sheets of eau du soy sauce or continually chastise Mrs. Yamaguchi for failing, yet again, to resist throwing out my mail. It is also at this time that I enjoy unlimited phone privileges.

You might wonder why a woman of my age does not have a phone line of her very own. Though, come to think of it, you wouldn't know my age at all, only my sign (Libra) and birthday. Well, I am steadily encroaching a fourtieth and some birthday with no husband or children to speak of. I could lie and say this does not cause me some pain in the later hours of the evening, but in truth I am quite happy and, compared with my married friends, I feel positively carefree and unfettered.

But back to the phone line. The Yamaguchis were not keen on offering me an addtional line as it would require them to phone up the phone company and change their current plans, something Londoners all the world over are loathe to do. So, for a reduced rent, I share their phone. It was rather inconvenient at first, what with the running down the stairs and having my messages mixed with orders for pounds of noodles and dried seaweed, but we have found something of a balance. Though I say that now, while they are away and our building is blissfully quiet.

I have joined the digital age, though not without some trepidation. My dear niece in America has taught me this lovely contraption called Skype and I have even considered buying one of those digital book things, though I can't quite bring myself to take the plunge.

I have also taken advantage of this, my new avenue for self-expression and passionate discourse, to practice my writing style. I have been reading Mary, Queen of Scotland and the Isles by Margaret George and I heartily recommend it. Unlike the rather airy historical fiction trumpeting around booklists these days, George seamlessly melds the historic and the fictional. It's truly a triumph, an epic, if you will.