Sometimes its the small things..

(c) manuel mc

The weather these last few days has been so lovely, life here has been looking good for the coming months.

Saturday

Was a lovely day. After Keith’s party the night before, which was rather strange to stand in the same kitchen with all the boys, dressed as … well boys and not in drag as at the last party. The sun was out but there was still a nifty breeze when you were in the shade. Didn’t stop me having a lovely afternoon in one of my summer favourites, Tomaz on Begijnensteeg. Its a lovely little tapas bar that serves a slightly sparkling rose in the summer months, yum yum. Its on a tiny medieval side street off the main shopping street Kalverstraat, on the way to the amazingly peaceful Begijnhof. In fact the lane way itself was the only entrance to the Begijnhof originally, so it truly is a medieval route. And coupled with some spring sun and a nicely trashy paperback, things were good.

Sunday

Proved equally relaxing, having got my bike back and repaired good as new. I did a bit of shopping, first time in months – I have been a good girl. Went for a bracing cycle around Westerpark, hung out with friends for a lovely dinner at Burgermeester . Sunday is usually quiet for me, I like to be ready for the week ahead.

Monday

(c) ayalon

The weather got even better,  and it’s so nice to cycle home along the Weesperzijd’s riverside cafe’s. I got a good bit done at the office and left work bang on time, headed to another local watering hole, Struik on Rozengracht. I sat on the picnic benches outside with a verse munt thee (hot water, fresh mint and honey)  and chatted to some people, before continuing to chow through the aforementioned cheesy paperback. Then me and my freshly made lamacun went home to watch Great British Menu, Richard Corrigan gives me the shivers, he’s like a cooking version of GRyan! I even managed to stay up way past my bedtime to watch our Mr Mulley on Q&A

Tuesday

Can we spell pre-monstral! Oh yes as the wonderful Xbox might say the Red Menace is nigh. And I am having a tearful day. Please, for those that don’t understand this concept, the ladies lucky enough to not get teary pre the monster, and for boys reading that are not gagging right now. I am NOT actually upset, nor am I down or depressed. I will just cry at the drop of a hat, nothing alarming about that, is there? Things that make me cry right now are homeless kids, upset kids,  cute kids, babies,  – yes I see a theme too – and thinking of my Gran, Uncle or Cousin who have passed on.

Today listening to Phantom, I zoned out from what I was doing to hear, or should I say listen to, as I had heard it a million times, a Road Safety ad. James’s dad spoke of how James lost his life when he was walking home in the dark from a debs and was struck by an articulated lorry.  Tears quietly escaped while his fathers voice haltingly said “Oddly I miss him most on fine sunny days when I think he should be alive and out enjoying himself” and “if only he had worn a visibility jacket that night”

We lost my cousin in his early 20′s in an RTA, but not in Ireland, and the combination of knowing that another person understands its the strangest times that you remember him most, and the frustration of knowing some simple device might have gone a long way to prevent the pain of never being able to hear him call me a ghoul again! (might be strange to think but I’m actually smiling as I’m writing this, ok I’m crying too but I’m smiling)

Anyhow, the day went on and I came home, read more of my book (nearly finished it) and made a yummy salad, it really is yummy and I will put the recipe, thrown together as it was, up here soon. I sat down for another installment of Great British Menu. I’m willing the only woman, Clare Smyth,  amongst this years contenders to get through the heats. Afterwards the second an possibly the most bizarre reason to shed a tear snuck up on me.

Yep I cried at Snooker!    Snooker??     … Yeah Snooker.

Hurricaine Higgins

I promise I have not lost it, well no more than usual.

My Gran was a snooker nut, and stayed up till 3am to watch all the greats, during my childhood it seemed as though Snooker was on all year, and certainly every time I went to my gran’s. My grandad used to watch it on a black and white tv in his bedroom right up until he died. Snooker watching on a black and white with a snowy reception is a passion of its own. But the quiet sound of the commentators and the smack of the cue on white will always make me think of Gran. The clincher for me tonight was Steve Davis’s return to the Crucible!! Gosh I remember how much she didn’t like him, and how bored I was listening to her as a kid. I know she’d have loved to watch him get his ass whopped.  Alex Higgins was my nan’s toyboy, she even called the budgie after him.