A rapid fire tally of events of the last few weeks:
Item of wondrous news: one*
Miles walked around the Ikea vinyl pathway: a marathon
Window panes cleaned: a lot
Posts composed in my head re adoption situation: many
Posts composed outside my head: zero
Curses muttered under breath: also many
Nights in bed by 9.30pm: too many
Days with Betty-head**: 8?
Illustrations made for fairy tale: 12
Tears: a few
Laughs: quite a few
Snow and sleet showers: innumerable
Stuff given away on gumtree: 2
Lady in tank-style, enormous jeep come to collect nasty veneer table: 1
And that is why I have not posted. The idea of seeing this dull and chilly reality reflected back at me from my computer screen was not enticing. And here, at this point in the post, friends, I was going to insert a photo of the slowly reviving garden, as a symbol of hope and regeneration - but, with the rich irony of which the universe is so fond, then it hailed, for a long, long time. The hail bounced around the grass energetically and made me long for Other Long-ago Times and Places. How could I have complained of the heat in Andalucia, for instance, that summer I spent on a horse farm when I was 19? Qué calor, my eye.
So instead let us contemplate this other. less conventional, symbol of spring: The Chitting Potato.
Yes, there it is. It is not chitting at the speed of light, it has to be said. Perhaps, sensibly, it has decided to wait until after the Ice Age.
And that is what has been going on. Next time, possibly even in this millenium, I will update on the adoption saga - the Irish Minister for Children is in India this very week to try to make headway on the inter-country adoptions agreements.
Tell me your tallies?
Till soon then,
* Suzy has arrived, and I am utterly utterly delighted for Valery, and her DP.
** My term for my weird, non-painful but nonetheless wearing and unpleasant ocular migraine.