Colds around the world — a multitude of solutions!
the gift of song to a beloved father, and a comforting recipe
a sad but encouraging story followed by a humdinger of a vegetarian main course.
Have you ever tried to capture the essence of someone you know well, in a single story?
Shame and stupidity TEA, three little letters, that, when interspersed with others, can bring comfort, solace, and healing, but left together on their own they detonate into an explosion of grief, shame, humiliation, regret, and stupidity. I have lived, grown up, worked, or visited in 22 different countries of the world. For all of them,… Continue reading TEA!
You could tell she was miserable. Her sullen angry face stared straight ahead from the audience’s front row, her lips clenched tightly together. You’d think we were torturing her – we probably were. This concert took place in a bygone era when folk were allowed to come together. It was a simple audience participation… Continue reading I wish we still had the stocks
Nowruz! The Amazing Zoroastrians Oh dear. We missed it –Persian New Year. Why, you ask, is that important to our culture here whose immediate worry is how to find hand gel, toilet paper, and tinned tomatoes in empty-shelved grocery shops, where every bit of community comfort is denied to us because we can’t hug? WELL,… Continue reading Nowruz!
Receiving “Faithful friends that are dear to us, gather near to us once more…” goes the cheesy Christmas song we crooned last night at the winter sing-along. I love receiving cards and letters and news and emails, and telephone calls. I love getting them all. I put cards up all over the house, sorted… Continue reading Greeting Cards
Doors – and More Humiliation! One thing about building a community is its individual welcome, and DOORS are part of that welcome. I love the wreaths that my Indiana sister puts on her front door, that change according to the season, how attractive and friendly they are. When I arrived in England as a… Continue reading Doors — more humiliation
Alexandria, Egypt. Summer, 1966, during the Six Day War. 4.am. We arose silently, dressed, gathered our meagre belongings and went outside. The police, also silent, led us into their waiting cars, the engines idling softly, ready to move.. Then quietly, quietly, they drove off. They suggested that we duck down if we saw anyone on… Continue reading A Community of Displaced People