Is it the end of June already? Which means the year is half over. I’m sitting here listening to my parents practice the choir for church tomorrow. I should be singing with them but I’ve caught a cold that seems to have removed my voice as one of the functional aspects of my person. It’s obviously a divine intervention to keep the choir up to level.
In a few moments we’ll be going to a pastry shop for the weekly choir tea break. The choir, apparently, won’t sing if there isn’t cake, or, in this case, pastries. There’s an important cultural lesson here, I think, which I will be able to put my finger on after another cafe au lait.
Truly, all we have done is go from one enormous meal to the next. First there’s breakfast, as you might expect, but which I have tried really hard to walk away from for a whole year. Then there’s lunch which isn’t just a piece of lettuce and a glass of water but piles of chapatis and stew or ugali or a whole baguette or something. And then, just when you were thinking you should never eat again, along comes dinner. Last night we waddled out of a gorgeous Indian restaurant having tasted what felt like everything on the menu.
I’ve been told that not everyone here is a good cook but, frankly, I don’t believe it. Anyway, I have to bestir myself for the eating, I mean outing. Tinkerty-Tonk.
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