MKWM

Follow me, myself and I

2009-09-28T08:23:00.003+02:00

I learned my lesson today: do not mess with widgets that early in the morning when you should be on your way to work...

Welcome David

2009-09-27T19:30:00.004+02:00

Un des plus grands bonheurs de cette vie, c'est l'amitié ;

et l'un des bonheurs de l'amitié,

c'est d'avoir à qui confier un secret.

[Alessandro Manzoni]

Les copains d'abord

2007-12-09T17:59:00.000+01:00

Que l'on soit collègues, amis ou un groupe de personnes ayant quelque chose en commun, rien de tel que de se retrouver réunis autour d'une table. L' approche des fêtes de fin d'année est une raison de plus pour ce faire, n'est-ce pas?

La recette est simple et facile à réaliser: prenez une grosse tranche de samedi soir, une poignée de copains, ajoutez un soupçon de bonne humeur, un zeste de joie de vivre et une larme de parfum exotique. Faites revenir le tout dans un poêlon assez grand et savourez immédiatement.

C'est ainsi que la soirée de Noël des blagueurs bruxellois a eu lieu hier soir, sous le haut patronnage de Lady Daphné, laquelle apparut au restaurant indien en grand apparat, comme il se doit, suivie de ses dames de compagnie Doris, Honey, Marianne, Vida-Min et moi-même, ainsi que du vaillant chevalier Elaib et deux de ses compagnons d'armes. Joliet Jake, notre maharajah d'un soir que nous rencontrions pour la première fois, nous a tous sollennellement acceuillis et nous a invité sans plus tarder à déguster les différentes saveurs de son pays d'origine.

Le restaurant Anarkali fut suggéré par ce dernier, qui nous confia qu'il recommande cet endroit à tous ceux qui veulent découvrir les plats principaux de la cuisine indienne. Eaux, vins et mets succulents à volonté pour un prix des plus raisonnables, voilà un très bon choix, ma foi. En voyant le contenu de ma troisième assiette, j'aurais pu me croire dans un restaurant grec, tellement la similitude était grande. Le spécialiste à notre table confirma que l'ajout de feta dans les épinards n'était qu'une frivolité. Mais avec tout ça, je n'ai pu m'empêcher de penser à ce peuple lointain dont j'ai entendu parler. Les Kalash du Pakistan, les descendants vivants des colons grecs qui émigrèrent dans le sous-continent indien à l’époque d’Alexandre le Grand, vous connaissez?

Comme je disais, la recette n'a pas de secret et les ingrédients sont faciles à trouver. En fin de compte, il suffit de peu pour passer une bonne soirée entre copains. Le restaurant ne fut qu'une première étape pour certains d'entre nous, il y en eut trois autres avant de nous décider à rentrer enfin...

et la prochaine fois, j'espère qu'il y aura bien plus de copains à bord.

Red ribbon story

2007-12-01T12:28:00.001+01:00

I received this Ruban rouge pin in a gay bar last night. How I got there is a rather long story I will have to tell you some other time, 'cos I'm running late now.

In fact, we all have more important things to do today. Please wear your own red ribbon and meet me down town.

Journée mondiale de lutte contre le sida - 01/12/07 Originally uploaded by MKWM

"SIDA... mour on parlait?"

A French lesson (for Joliet Jake)

2007-11-15T19:01:00.000+01:00

On ne dit pas mon corridor, mais mon corps se repose. On ne dit pas c'est l'Amazone, mais c'est là que j'habite. On ne dit pas un ouvre-boîte, mais un portier de night-club. On ne dit pas il est chétif, mais il est chez le coiffeur. On ne dit pas la maîtresse d'école, mais l'institutrice prend l'avion. On ne dit pas jerrycan, mais je rigole. On ne dit pas le ton monte, mais la fille moche prend l'ascenseur. On ne dit pas javelliser, mais j'ai lu. On ne dit pas un ingrat, mais un nain gros. On ne dit pas le petit poucet, mais le gosse était constipé. On ne dit pas mine de rien, mais gisement épuisé. On ne dit pas démanger, mais vomir. On ne dit pas un poète, mais un klaxon. On ne dit pas un enfoiré, mais une année de perdue. On ne dit pas une biroute, mais une route à deux voies. On ne dit pas dégâts des eaux, mais des marins. On ne dit pas je suis paniquée, mais je cherche un mec. On ne dit pas adéquation, mais y a-t-il des questions. On ne dit pas je suppute, mais je suis péripatéticienne. On ne dit pas je suis très sain, mais j'aime les gros nichons. On ne dit pas un conquistador, mais un imbécile narcissique. On ne dit pas j'ai vaincu, mais je suis pluri-anal. On ne dit pas faire des vendanges, mais péter comme un Dieu. On ne dit pas un microprocesseur, mais un petit prof. On ne dit pas un oenologue, mais un sexologue. On ne dit pas un homme hors pair, mais un eunuque. On ne dit pas couper le beurre, mais circoncire. On ne dit pas barbecue, mais poils aux fesses. On ne dit pas la bonne paella, mais la femme de ménage est absente. On ne dit pas mélodie en sous-sol, mais gare la voiture au parking souterrain. On ne dit pas je tripote, mais j'ai trois amis. On ne dit pas le processus de paix est enclenché, mais je vais lâcher une caisse. On ne dit pas c'est alligator, mais c'est Mouloud qui a raison. On ne dit pas un pinailleur, mais un mari infidèle.

Shape up or ship out

2007-11-13T23:56:00.000+01:00

I have it on good authority that, early in the morning, someone will be checking this place in view of finding something new to read. Although I warned that lovely person she would probably have to sip her cuppa reading elsewhere, I decided to write a couple of lines, wishing her a very nice day :-)

In case you were wondering, I'll have you know the shaping up is on its way...

Interlude

2007-11-07T00:18:00.000+01:00

Shaggy & shaggier dog stories

2007-09-21T17:21:00.000+02:00

I have started a book that had been standing on a shelf for too long. I mean I finally started it from the beginning, as pages 103-104, 146-147 and 148-149 were the only I had read so far. Now all I miss is Tippler's, Zoe's and Daphne's autograph on those very pages. Mind you, I have two copies, and I expect a different dedication in each Shaggy Blog Stories, am I asking too much?

Although these stories are highly entertaining, the reading made me fall asleep, as usual. Don't ask me what I dreamed about, I simply don't remember any dreams lately. I don't get enough sleep and getting up in the mornings to go to work is rather painful.

But Goth didn't ask about my 'normal' dreams but what my strange dreams are made of. Like in anybody else's, sex, pursuits and very odd things are involved.

Shaggier dog stories

I often had nightmares when I was little. I had this recurrent dream of a man with an axe, in our neighbourhood in Forest, chasing me and my brother and sisters in the streets. When said man would catch one of them, I would stand totally helpless, covering my ears with my hands not to hear the cries and yelling. It was horrible and I was relieved to wake up, seeing them sleeping in the same bedroom, safe and sound.

I once woke up with my arms pointing to the ceiling. I was simply dreaming of the class gathering in the school yard. Discipline was tough in those years, teachers used to make us stand in lines, stretch our arms forward to reach the shoulders of the pupil standing in front of us and then we would march in perfectly formed ranks into the classroom.

The weirdest thing during those schooldays was this recurrent dream where I was seeing myself going to the loo, and thinking I had actually arrived therein, I would simply wet my bed. Totally shameful, needless to say my sisters hated me for waking them up to clean my mess.

After all, that might not have been the weirdest of all in those days. I dreamt about a blonde Spaniard classmate standing on an ice field, wearing a bikini, with a huge colourful butterfly on her nose. I can’t remember what exactly she was telling me but I haven’t forgotten that strange dream and I still can’t explain its meaning. Besides, I don’t think anybody could, if only dreams have a meaning, that is.

Being an adult, I dreamt about merciless Spartan warriors chasing me and other unknown people. I was running and hiding and could feel the fear for my life so much that I woke up in a cold sweat... just like when having intense and unfinished passionate dreams involving sex.

I used to live in my village in Greece and got to attend many funerals. The coffins remain open until they reach the grave. Yes, they do. And no, it doesn’t scare me to touch a cold body. One night, I saw my ex-husband laying in a coffin, wearing his wedding suit, looking pretty dead. As I approached, he started talking to me. That scene was quite a shock and I woke up right after his unexpected move. I couldn’t help telling him about my dream the following morning. Very bad idea actually, yet another fight started... I just can’t live my dreams and shut up, can I?

These strange dreams are engraved in my memory, like the few involving my deceased mother. I’ve only seen her in four or five dreams since 1980. Despite being woken up by the emotion I felt when it happened, being aware I am dreaming of her and that it hardly ever happens, I always managed to make my lovely dream continue. I sure hope I can have that lucid dream again.

"One of the most adventurous things left us is to go to bed. For no one can lay a hand on our dreams." - E. V. Lucas

Breaking news

2007-09-16T18:41:00.000+02:00

The legislative election 2007 is today's headline in Greece. Much to my regret, I could not travel to my native country in order to vote but I rejoyce as I currently watch the exit poll results.

The official and final results will only be known later tonight but I already guess I will be raising a glass to the new ND government.

Having lived in Greece during two decades, I sure know why I have developed a penchant for blue, which has become my favourite colour.

Alone together

2007-09-15T19:03:00.001+02:00

*♫♪♫♪♫♪ ringtone ♫♪♫♪♫♪*

Me: Allô... oui Anna, tu es où?

Anna: Ze soui devan lotel devil, è toua?

Me: Ah bon, ben moi aussi, mais je ne te vois pas...

Anna: Tou è deza ala grran plas?

Me: Mais oui, je suis devant l'hôtel de ville, comme convenu.

Anna: Moua ossi.

Me: *scrutinising the surroundings from East to West* Il n'y a pas deux hôtels de ville quand même. C'est pas possible, tu dois être en face, de l'autre côté.

Anna: Ze soui devan lotel devil.

Me: *taking a 180° south turn, finally facing Anna who is sitting on the cobblestones, looking everywhere but in front of her * Anna, regarde en face de toi!

Anna: Aaaah, tou è la, ha ha ha...

Then we hung off. Very funny indeed. Well, it would have been if it wasn't the upteenth time you read about two people calling each other while they are merely a couple of feet away.

I'm sure you must have noticed that days are getting shorter and that it's dark already after 8 o'clock. We are therefore excused, I didn't see her coming behind me and she failed to see me as I was dressed in black.

Anna: Zai pa ou le tam de emprrime le plann. Alorr ze ne se pa parr ou onn doua allè mai onn va demanndè.

Great, we had found each other but we still had to find the way to the place we were going to. Neither Anna nor I had taken the time to have a look at a map, we both had such a busy day.

Me: Tu te rappelles du nom de la rue au moins?

Yes, Anna did remember the name of the street and a policeman told us it was the first on the right, so we arrived at the Music Village and sat at our reserved table for two, just in front of the podium.

As you may have guessed by the transcription of her slavic accent, Anna is a foreigner and I take great pleasure in making my colleague practice French for over a year now. Last night, our conversation was jazzed up by the C. Loos / S. Mercier quartet. Oh, and Belgian beer too, of course, which made us switch to English after Anna's third one, that is when her French became utterly unintelligible.

Although I've always liked jazz, I think this was my first live experience, unless there was one before the age of twenty that I can't possibly remember. Nor can I recall being so close to gay bars... there were at least two across the street. I kept looking at those guys in between the sets, while having a smoke outside -I hasten to add that smoking is allowed in that lovely place, it's just that our table was in the "wrong" area. I must say I like gays, they are usually very friendly to women, who sometimes bemoan the fact that attractive men can be gay.

Back to the Music Village, where the quartet was really smoking in the second set and whoever talked loudly was being shushed. Those who stayed until the end of the third one were rewarded with a long improvisation, closing a fine musical evening.

I particularly liked the Unknown mallow and a tune called Alone together, referring to a relationship wherein one feels alone, despite having a companion, as explained by the composer.

That's not my case anymore but I reckon it must also apply to people in general. Aren't we sometimes alone together out there?

Soft bloggers

2007-09-13T22:09:00.000+02:00

In the morning, when I don't snooze too much and can find what to wear in less than twenty minutes, I manage to arrive at a reasonable time at Trône underground station to find and grab a copy of the metro.

From time to time, I also take the Dutch copy in view of brushing up my Flemish. I have noticed that, in the two linguistic versions, the various articles are on different pages and some topics can't be found at all. French and Flemish speaking people must have divergent interests and opinions, so what else is new here in Belgium?

Today, this article made me realise the blogosphere is much wider than I thought, and reading its last line, I immediately thought of a 44 year old I know. I wonder whether SHE who hates exclamations marks knows about it.

Micro-Soft blogging? Not my cup of tea, I'm afraid. I like it here. It's quite cosy, the template matches my lino and curtains, making me feel pretty much at home. I wouldn't change a single thing, I don't want a fancy counter or any other featured gadget, I like to keep it simple.

Spaces dot live dot com might be attractive for you readers who think about joining in. So why don't you have a try at Blogger first?

Everyone is welcome right here, in my own soft space.

Dear Vida, you ought to be my first guest. I give you the floor.

It's a small world after all

2007-09-10T22:35:00.000+02:00

September means going back to school, to work, and finally, going back to the nearest to work gym club because I do want my thinner waist back. There I was tonight, sitting in front of my Flemish personal trainer, confessing I couldn't possibly remember the last proper workout. Lazy me just went to take the hammam's temperature lately. Frankly, I had no excuse for wasting the efforts made last spring, but as of today, all will be back on track.

I was hesitating between taking the bus or the metro to go home and eventually went for the latter. Wise choice, because the nice bloke with the extraordinary shoes I had met a couple of days ago at the birthday party was sitting in the train that arrived as soon as I found myself in the underground. Small world, isn't it?

I opened the door, stood smiling in front of him, shook his hand and sat next to him. Apparently, he was trying to remember my name but I couldn't possibly hold that against him, because I don't remember the names of all the people I met either, they were so many... Maybe he was simply wondering where on earth he had seen that face before, or even worse, he couldn't remember me at all...

Taking a close look at his shoes didn't seem a trick good enough to refresh his memory. You see, that's how I started talking to him at the party. You don't get to see a pair full of St George flag miniatures everyday, do you? Anyway, we chatted as much as we could until the next station and wished each other a pleasant evening. I hope to see him again, he is such a friendly fellow.

For me, September also means being one year older. These last twelve months brought me a lot of new friends. After all, if not smaller, the world is just getting brighter.

Kαι του χρόνου…

2007-09-09T19:57:00.000+02:00

I finally start typing after staring at a blank page for a long while. It’s not that I lack in inspiration today, it simply took me a lot of time to recall what happened at Tippler & Laura’s birthday party.

Don’t get me wrong... I was not trying hard to remember what exactly happened. Whith a broad smile, I was reviving the party from the beginning to the end, or should I say until the moment I left this morning, because it was not quite over yet when I decided it was about time to go home.

No unnecessary details revealed here, just plenty of wonderful souvenirs to keep to myself, which will definitely make me smile whenever I remember that great bash. One of the highlights was the rather short but outstanding opening address delivered by our host, after which we all raised a glass to Love and Friendship.

Another one was getting to know new friends better and making the acquaintance of lovely people such as, to name but a few, la petite fée Clochette, a nice bloke wearing extraordinary shoes and a permanent smile, a truly nice person called Joe -a totally unsuspected reader of mine to whom I dedicate this post- and last but not least, a man who took me to the moon and back.

Jamais deux sans trois

2007-09-06T00:29:00.001+02:00

Strange messages were sent to me lately. I received the first one on 19 August, at precisely 23:43:13. Right, it woke me up and I couldn't go back to sleep for a while, wondering who on Earth could have sent it to me. The anonymous text went like this:

"Sorry maria. You must be very kind but i do nöt remember you at all. Thanks for the lovely note and all the best."

That is indeed my name, and I must be very kind since I didn't call that Belgian number, yelling at that person for waking me up. But I didn't write any note to anyone, so... what was this all about?

The next day, I concluded the message had been sent to me by mistake and thought of "warning" its author. I started texting back but changed my mind and rather chose to ignore it.

I received a second similar text on 2 September at 18:59:21. Same number, same puzzlement. At least it wasn't midnight this time, there was some improvement.

"Hi maria. I do not remember you but you are absolutely very kind. Best regards."

This time, I answered back: "I don't remember you either. In fact, I don't know who you are."

And the following reply came a while later: "That is good. No need to seek further. I wish you a wonderful evening maria, the stranger. Adieu."

No need to seek further, adieu?? Phew... and good riddance too. Or so I thought...

Jamais deux sans trois, apparently. This Wednesday at lunchtime, as I was peacefully enjoying a cup of coffee with two colleagues, the third message troubled me a lot and really made me wonder who is behind all this.

This time, the tone and content were not at all the same: "Dear mr mistery man. It is 13h30. I will not ask you again to be fair, correct and civilized. You can surbordinate those who allow you and even break their spirit because of foolishness and greed but to reduce the universe to your insignificant size yo need to target the Ahab and the Jezebel. I will not contact you again."

What the hell?! You'd better not contact me again, you idiot.

But he or she just has, at precisely 20 past midnight, while I'm writing about it. Jamais deux sans trois, or more, obviously. Same message as above, preceded with "Copy to all".

I have the feeling this text I just received won't be the last. Enough is enough, though, I've had it. It might not be possible for me to find out right now to whom that number belongs, but let us not forget that a mobile can easily be located, along with the person who is using it. Mistery weirdo, you have been warned...

Silence is golden

2007-08-29T20:00:00.000+02:00

The Greek post was a call for a silent demonstration that I received by email. It was about a silent protest, which explains why no comments were allowed. We may not have been able to join in, but we will at least have observed silence for the 6364 victims. I am dismayed by the catastrophy and the aftermath. I wish politicians remembered that words are silver and silence is golden.

Γ Ι A T I ;

2007-08-29T19:00:00.000+02:00

Τετάρτη 29 Αυγούστου, στις 7 η ώρα το απόγευμα θα συγκεντρωθούμε όλοι στην πλατεία Συντάγματος αλλά και σε κάθε κεντρική πλατεία κάθε πόλης σε ολόκληρη τη χώρα.

Φορώντας μαύρα.

ΒΟΥΒΗ ΟΡΓΗ.

ΕΚΚΩΦΑΝΤΙΚΗ ΣΙΩΠΗ.

Αποδοκιμάζουμε χωρίς συνθήματα και πολύχρωμες σημαίες. Πενθούμε για την απώλεια των συνανθρώπων μας χωρίς να συνδέουμε την πρωτοφανή περιβαλλοντική καταστροφή με προεκλογικές σκοπιμότητες. Δίνουμε το παρόν και στεκόμαστε απειλητικά απέναντι σε οποιονδήποτε επιχειρήσει να εκμεταλλευτεί την τραγωδία για οποιοδήποτε όφελος.

ΤΟ ΠΟΤΗΡΙ ΞΕΧΕΙΛΙΣΕ.

σαν-ΥΠΟΓΡΑΦΗ

Ποίηση Είναι ο Μαγικός Εκείνος Χώρος, στον οποίο Αποτυπώνεται η Λανθάνουσα έστω, κοινή όμως Ανθρώπινη Ανάγκη για Ουρανό (Σαχτούρης)

Update

2007-08-23T21:49:00.000+02:00

My holiday in Greece went fine, just fine.

Sea, ~~sex~~kids and sun during three whole weeks. Bliss.

Along with the postcard, I have a piece of advice for you: reading this, you'll learn about mobile phone calls while abroad. "Considerably cheaper from summer 2007" ? Maybe, if only I had had the opportunity to acquire a "vodafone passport" before leaving. Yes indeed, I received a huge phone bill today, and I'm now at the bottom of a second Triple Leffe, trying to forget about those bloody roaming charges, not to mention the dreadful weather. Right, yet another day in Paradise, as Spanish Goth would say, and so I did get the beers in.

Well, you can't possibly go out every day, can you? I was out last night, going straight from work to the pub for ONE drink... and ended up having several. (Damn true, dear colleague, I am weak at times, especially when in good company).

The usual pub, with the usual crowd but someone I had already met numerous times turned to be the new kid on the blog. He was glad to meet a reader and I was pleased to meet Tom Joad, in flesh and fine words. No, no, no, I won't reveal his identity. I'm not THAT weak, you know.

Unplugged

2007-06-28T22:09:00.000+02:00

À l’instar de Dip-Dop-Crabtree, suite à une overdose d’anglais,

ayant définitivement perdu mon grec et le latin.

Une multitude de pensées se bousculent dans ma petite tête. J’ai si souvent voulu les écrire mais, quand le temps ou la connexion ne manquaient pas, le moment ne s’y prêtait pas.

Les deux derniers mois se résument de la sorte : sorties, excursions, long week-end en Angleterre, nouvelles rencontres et beaucoup de travail au bureau. Un moment privilégié fut une fin de semaine passée avec mes sœurs et frère, ce qui n’arrive que trop rarement. J’espère que nous n’aurons pas à battre le record de 18 ans écoulés avant de nous retrouver à quatre.

Événements remarquables à noter également, deux prestations en plein air avec l’ensemble vocal, qui se réunira à nouveau après les vacances d’été : participation à une fête de quartier et à l’union de deux charmantes jeunes femmes. Nous avons chanté de tout cœur pour elles, leurs familles et invités, et nous avons été chaleureusement applaudis par les habitants de cette rue d’Ixelles qui avait été fermée à la circulation, afin de leur permettre de faire la fête entre voisins, quel merveilleux concept !

Euh, oui, bien sûr… A signaler aussi, plus de deux mois de célibat bel et bien enterré, d’où l’overdose d’anglais, vu que je ne parle pratiquement plus que ça. Je vous le disais bien, j’en ai perdu le latin, d’autant plus que je travaille dans un milieu « multiculturel », où l’on peut lire et entendre plusieurs langues différentes à longueur de journée, ce qui peut provoquer un échauffement des méninges, voire un court-circuit cérébral.

Ce soir, je voulais avoir la paix, toute la paix, rien que la paix. Je voulais, dans le calme plat et dans un peu de solitude bien méritée, prendre le temps de vous écrire et puis de vous lire plus longuement, et enfin publier mes photos. Je voulais aussi penser aux vacances que je n’ai pas encore organisées, mais dont la destination est déjà connue… c’est le pays que j’ai quitté, il y a cinq ans déjà.

Devinette

2007-06-07T00:42:00.000+02:00

Dear me, I almost forgot my login and password. It has been such a long while...

Anyway, guess where I took this picture and I'll give you one of the two large jars of Branston pickle I brought back last Monday.

Of course, you must live in Brussels, do I really need to point this out? Please note I already gave you a hint here.

(No J, your answer would NOT be taken into consideration and I'd better find at least one of the pasties in the fridge tomorrow night or else you will be in big trouble, I kid you not).

"There is time for everything" (T. Edison)

2007-05-24T19:24:00.000+02:00

In Brom Man's "Useful Stuff - Tips for bloggers", I found no answer whatsoever to my "finding time to blog" query. Not a single topic related post.

What I have missed most of all during this last month is not at all my writing here but to be able to read and comment on your posts. I must admit you have become a part of my world, and to be kept away from the expression of your thoughts and feelings has created moments of emptiness in my daily life.

I miss you, I really do... But in fact, the answer is quite simple:

I will have to TAKE the time, instead of wishing time could stop.

There is time for everything, isn't there?

2007-05-14T18:38:00.000+02:00

Alive and well (and very happy too) - stop - been adbucted by English gentleman - stop - will soon find way to resume normal service - stop - miss you All - stop - Much love, M.

Un brin d' bonheur

2007-05-01T14:08:00.000+02:00

'... Le premier Mai c'est pas gai,

Je trime a dit le muguet,

Dix fois plus que d'habitude,

Regrettable servitude.

Muguet, sois pas chicaneur,

Car tu donnes du bonheur,

Pas cher à tout un chacun.

Brin d' muguet, tu es quelqu'un. ...'

Georges Brassens

My favourite rugby player

2007-04-25T23:58:00.000+02:00

Although Graham only introduced him to me this morning,

Connah has already become my favourite rugby player.

Scherzando, con brio

2007-04-15T11:30:00.000+02:00

I was supposed to be enjoying a boat & bike ride in Brussels today but my brother's plan "fell in the water", as we say in French. In other words, our Sunday cruise with Rivertours.be was cancelled, or just postponed if you prefer. Brussels by Waters was advertised everywhere lately, and with such a lovely weather we're having these days, I'm not surprised there were not enough bikes left to rent.

My brother's family and his friends have an alternative already, they are going to watch a rugby match in Boistfort. So what else is new... and I shouldn't have written "his family AND his friend" but rather is huge family, because that's what they are, all members of a same clan. Have you clicked on that link yet? See the one behind the coach in that vets' team? Well, he's my 45 year old brother. Years ago, he used to drag me to the La Hulpe field (oh, there he is again, on the far right, sporting another tartan this time).

I'm not at all complaining, actually. As a matter of fact, I enjoyed very much being taken along, it was a pleasure being a pom pom girl and having a drink altogether in the club house, what they call la troisième mi-temps. Now you understand why Daphne's post brought cheerful memories to me and why I can't help watching that Gods calendar over and over again.

Anyway, staying home suits me fine after all, because I have to get ready for a concert tonight. Before waxing my upper lip and ironing my black & red outfit, I need to rehearse the six songs we shall be singing tonight. Five at the opening, a cappella, and one at the closing, with the piano. Yep, my little choir is performing tonight, and on next Tuesday too. Oh no, I'm not at all stressed... It won't be my first public performance. Haven't you seen me fooling around before?

These fellow singers are damn good... and twice as many as we are.

Enjoy. As for me, I'd better warm my voice up...

Shush

2007-04-14T10:15:00.000+02:00

“Silences make the real
conversations between friends.
Not the saying but the never needing
to say is what counts.”

Margaret Lee

Runbeck