When I was a child figs only ever appeared in fig biscuits, a sort of
squishy mess wrapped in soft biscuit dough, usually served at Christmas time.
One of those that you ate as a child because they seemed quote grown-up
biscuits but which you were never quite sure if you liked them or not. It’s only
with hindsight that I realise that the squishy mess was actually the inside of
the fruit. I had no idea what a fig looked like and even less of what one
actually tasted. And nowadays they appear as regular as clockwork at this time
of year and I like to serve them up in various guises as long as they are
around. Last week the Italian fruit and veg shop in Uppermill was selling
individual small figs for 75 pence apiece. Yesterday the figs were enormous,
almost twice the size of last week’s but still selling for the same price. How
odd!
Today is forecast to be a little better: quite a lot of cloud but the
20% chance of rain looks like being an evening affair. So I have hung the
washing to dry in the garden, taking a risk and keeping my fingers crossed.
Maybe we’ll even manage a walk later in the day.
On the radio they have been talking about parking on the pavement, which
is about to become illegal in Scotland apparently. Good for Scotland, say I! I
can understand drivers’ wanting to get their huge vehicles - modern cars are
so-o-o-o much bigger than cars ever used to be - as much off the road as
possible but it’s a real pain for those of us who walk places. The number of
times I have to step out into the road to get round parked vehicles is
astounding. For myself it’s just a nuisance but if we are off on one of our
family “adventures” with a baby buggy and a four-year-old to cope with it’s
positively dangerous. Okay! That’s that rant out of the way.
In my youth I always rather fancied the idea of having a son, some time
in the then far distant future, whom I would call Sean. And then I spent a fair
few years teaching and came across a host of rude, lazy, obnoxious little Seans
and that potential name went out of the window. And yesterday I came across a
list of the “naughtiest names”:
Naughtiest boys
- Jack
- Harry
- Charlie
- Oliver
- George
Naughtiest girls
- Mia
- Ella
- Isabella
- Amelia
- Sophia
Now, I have a nephew called Jack who has always been a bit of a charming
rascal. But he was named for his grandfather, my father, just about the nicest
Jack you could meet. And our granddaughter Mia, although quite capable of
throwing a bit of a temper tantrum for her parents, is a high achieving angel
in school. What’s in a name? One of my daughter’s friend has just named her new
son Hector, an increasingly popular name at present. I wonder how the little
Hectors will be viewed by the time they get to school and are judged by peers
and teachers.
At the other end of the spectrum, among the best behaved children Isla
turns out to be he best name for girls while for boys, Arthur takes top spot,
with just 4% of those surveyed expecting Arthurs to misbehave. Most likely to
be associated with being quiet and shy are all the little Noahs. Is
this because they keep a low profile so that nobody asks them about all the
animals in their ark?
Here is a link to an article by Joel Golby, questioning the “delights” of being back in the office. He wonders if
Jeremy Hunt, who extolls the “fizz” and “excitement” of being in the office,
has ever really works in an office. I was never an office worker but some of
the same problems arise for classroom workers: going into the staffroom for a
lunch break only to discover that someone has used your mug and not washed it
up, or indeed has taken a fancy to it and walked off with it, leaving it to
fester in a distant art classroom; making a coffee and going to the fridge for
the milk you have clearly labelled, “This is Anthea’s bottle of milk - please
leave her enough for her next cup of coffee”, has been completely emptied;
finding the kitchen too disgustingly dirty to use. So it goes!
That is, of course, without mentioning the Coronavirus risk which has
now been added. Coincidentally, I hear that former Italy PM Berlusconi has
tested positive for coronavirus and is in quarantine at home. I an resisting
the temptation to say it could not happen to a better person. He hasn’t
mentioned bunga-bunga parties but apparently he stressed that he would continue
his political activities.
“I will be present in the electoral campaign with interviews on
televisions and in newspapers,” he said during a video-conference of Forza
Italia’s women’s movement.
However he recognised “the limitations imposed on my activities by
testing positive for the coronavirus... but I will continue the battle.”
We shall see!
Meanwhile, the virus keeps popping up. France has seen in increase in
cases, as have a nuber of other countries. Spain is ordering immediate
lockdown, to stay i effect for 14 days, in the tourist town of
Benigà nim in the mountain region of Valencia but just 60 miles from
the coastal holiday resort of Benidorm.
A long way from the Iberian peninsula the island of El Hierro - in the
Canary Islands, the place we have been told by so many commentators that it
should not be included in the blanket decision to require quarantine for
returnees - has closed its beaches immediately because of a serious outbreak.
All of this, as with the Coronavirus positive people flying back from
Greek islands, makes me wonder whether the tourists catch the virus there or
take it with them and upset the health balance in the tourist place. Or it
might just be a second wave - JUST a second wave!!
Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone.
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