Sunday, June 11, 2006

Summer is here, a time for greeting the sun and letting it stream into the house like a gush of forgotten happy memories. Like bathing in a waterfall. The cross winds blowing through the house remind me of the seashore - of sand and the wind blowing through my hair. I can smell the salt and the spray if I close my eyes... but this is Hampstead not Goa or Puri. The Heath beckons - time for picnics and hampers, for walks and wanderings. Talking of which we wandered back from Cricklewood last night after a hearty dinner at our favourite Ethiopean restaurant - Abyssinia. You always forget how close things are actually are, when you get used to trains, cabs and buses. Although the 30 minute walk in the middle of the night was completely up hill, it did help settle a rather elaborate dinner! The injira is undoubtedly the greatest invention since sliced bread. Although of course, it probably pre-dates it.

Summer is also the time for visitors, and Sara, with a smile like the sunshine and Karuna enjoyed bookended mornings lazing in the nothingness of a free hour and basking in the comfort of friendships that can be taken for granted.

Another old friend we went to see was musicman Mark Knopfler, with Emmylou harris, in concert. The concert itself was great, though not brilliant. Emmylou Harris was a revelation - to me - and Jon Allen, who opened the show had a couple of memorable songs. But of course we yearned for Dire Straits and got our kicks out of Romeo & Juliet, So Far Way and the final encore, done as an accoustic duet - Why Worry. Although it was a typical Fathers Day concert (you know, the ones which are advertised as the "perfect gift for fathers day") and we were among the youngest there.

Its now Sunday morning, and the World Cup is underway. A month of collective breath-holding and agonizing, exhilerating, rabid following and climactic denoument. The beautiful game always has a winner. In a month it will be all done and dusted and we'll all have some thing to look back upon, with relish, remorse or rancour, but it will be over and decisive. Wouldn't it be nice if all things in life could be structured to be so emotionally drenching, so intense and yet so structured and so eventually conclusive? There's a thought for you!

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