29 May 2020

this summer and next summer







"So often these days, every living thing seems overwhelmingly tender and fragile to me. I can feel angry at the stupidity of those joining crowds and rejecting personal and community protection, but more often, I cry that people are so anxious they’re willing to deny reality. I hear them laughing together on the trail and wonder if they’re robbing themselves of laughing together in a few weeks, or months. Next summer. Ever."



The rambling rose is still flowering like there is no tomorrow. The peonies are rushing it, out in full force at sunrise and spent by dinner time. The lilies are beginning their show and cosmos, well, I don't remember cosmos blossoms in May. But there they are. Maybe I am overreacting and this is just the way things go. A friend from Berlin sends me pictures of racoons climbing onto her 3rd floow balcony, eating the left over crumbs from her breakfast. Here, we wake early to the shreeking of parakeets.
It's a wild world out there.

I am still waiting for the results from last week's botched coloscopy. My shit is no longer blue, took three days to get the dye out of my system. Mostly, I am too tired to get worked up about it. My bet, it's probably just nothing.
My father is leaving short cryptic messages on the answerphone in case the results are not good so he doesn't have to hear anything upsetting in person and lose his shit live.
Anyway, he has decided to fully embrace the easing of the lockdown by inviting his various female companions to lunch. One after the other, mind you. It sounds more flamboyant than it actually is. He just wants company while he eats.

We are watching films and episodes of series and I usually fall asleep half way through. R is not very good at recaps, let me tell you. I know we watched Canadian crime and Danish family drama, also a rather good road movie about a rich kid picking up a refugee in his stepfather's camper van (stolen) and both ending up in Calais. But other than that, it's a jumble.

I have attempted, with some success, to cycle a 10 km round trip along the river every evening. Except for one day when I fell asleep beforehand. I think that happened yesterday.

Friday's music is called Tiliboyo (sunset) and was composed by Foday Suso from Gambia. Played here by the Kronos Quartet. Their album Pieces of Africa is one my all time favourites.



16 comments:

  1. Thank you for your blog which I faithfully follow. One of the ways I get my day off to a good start.

    I will keep good thoughts that your test results show nothing.

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  2. I, too, am betting it's nothing.
    Blue shit must be disturbing.

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  3. Oh, I think I missed an earlier post -- whatever referenced your colonoscopy. Off to read it now. Glad you are now dye-free, at least!

    I love the Kronos Quartet.

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  4. PS -- Oh, I didn't miss it. I just didn't realize it was a colonoscopy. Anyway, fingers crossed for good results.

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  5. I hope that it is nothing. It's awful to wait for test results.

    (I have that CD!)

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  6. I've never had a colonoscopy. and hope to never have. I prefer to poop on the paper and send the sample in. your garden sounds lovely. mine is in transition from spring to summer.

    and humans are insane. that's all I can figure out.

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  7. I hate colonoscopies, although it's actually the prep I hate and not the actual procedure. Blue shit must be interesting:)

    Here everything seems late. Today was the first day I hung sheets outside to dry.

    Wishing you only good results. Stay safe my friend.

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  8. Something about the thought of you riding your bicycle along the river in the evenings fills me with hope. That music does, too.

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  9. Listening to the Kronos Quartet is like wearing a medal saying Cultural Elite. You're way ahead of me and I shall leave by the tradesman's entrance. Blue poo. Wasn't that a symptom in Alan Bennett's The Madness of King George? If you need the testimony of a disinterested witness to say that you're not mad I'm prepared to drive over, social distancing permitting. Which reminds me of what my destination would be. The first comment I laid at your feet got there by virtue of your Blogoprofile. You lived, you said, in the Rhine Valley and I liked that careful geographical evasion. So much nicer than identifying the actual Hall of Mammon. Likewise I rarely admit to having spent several youthful years in a suburb of Bradford called Idle. Ye gods, I was vulnerable enough in those days without adding that burden. I hope my ellipticism is not too irritating.

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    1. Just to get my bit of medical superiority added to the cultural elite badge, your king George suffered most likely from porphyria and one of the symptoms is brown urine or should I say pee - which turns red in advanced stages.

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    2. There's mention further down of a sedated journey down the colon. Is that standard? Do I get points for having mine in free fall? Two medico-technoids chatted over my crouched body; I comforted myself they weren't on about soccer. Small mercies.

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  10. I love this music, Sabine. I had forgotten about the Kronos Quartet. Thank you so much for reminding me of this beauty.
    I hope your colonoscopy results are good, Sabine. Blue shit is interesting. I had a colonoscopy once and no blue poop.
    Take care there.

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  11. Thanks for the enjoyable music! Very uplifting. Hope all is well with tests. I imagine biking along a river...what a great thing to do.

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  12. Your cycling around the river in the face of everything so inspires me.

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  13. What beautiful fragile wistful music. Made me cry.

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  14. New music for me, and I haven't listened to the quartet in ages. When listening to this, I imagine the flowers you describe, and you, cycling around the lake to this tune. I'm seeing like a movie.

    I don't mind colonoscopies, I like the sedation used as I can be awake and watch the screen with mild amusement. I hope your results are unremarkable.

    I just watched Howard's End after many many years. So much I had forgotten. What a remarkable movie -- all that English repressed feelings and skipping around the elephant in the room. Done so gracefully.

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