Well, it’s a rather wet Friday! It began to drizzle as I returned from my run this morning. I suppose I should be glad I didn’t get soaked. But I think it’s rained, more or less heavily depending on the time of day, ever since. I caught a bus down to the supermarket in the drizzle. I caught one back in pouring rain. But it’s still quite mild. Better weather (which means drier weather) is forecast for the weekend, which is just as well. My Spanish sister arrives tomorrow. Our son and family arrive on Saturday. So our daughter and family will come and join us. We’ll have a houseful. We are hoping for fine weather so that we can spill over into the garden - especially the energetic small people!
It’s rather ludicrous that I am wondering where to seat a dozen family members, what to feed everyone, where to sleep those who need to stay overnight, and this just for a long weekend, when there are family groups in Gaza and elsewhere living more than a dozen in a small room or a tent.
And all of that is not new. Here’s poem Michael Rosen wrote in 2009.
In Gaza, children,
you learn that the sky kills
and that houses hurt.
You learn that your blanket is smoke
and breakfast dirt.
You learn that cars do somersaults
clothes turn red,
friends become statues,
bakers don’t sell bread.
You learn that night is a gun,
that toys burn
breath can stop,
it could be your turn.
You learn:
if they send you fire
they couldn’t guess:
not just the soldier dies -
it’s you and the rest.
Nowhere to run,
nowhere to go,
nowhere to hide,
in the home you know.
You learn that death isn’t life,
the air isn’t bread.
The land is for all - you have the right to be not dead.
The land is for all - you have the right to be not dead.
That’s all for today.
Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!
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