In the plink
Cherries
Le temps des cerises.
Contrast between the usual connotations of an annual ritual that is aesthetic, poetic and nostalgic and has something languorous about it – Japan – take your time to drink tea – draw back the bow string, hold onto it, don't be impatient for the twang, admire time passing…
And the absolute urgency of eating the damn things as soon as they are ripe, in an extremely narrow window of time from the moment they become deep red and ripe enough to eat and the moment, very soon after, they turn brown and blue mould appears.
Wurds.
On radio 4 the other day I noticed that “interstices” is pronounced “Interstice-seize”. Reminds me of Tom & Jerry and “I hate these me-seize to pea-seize”
J’ai eu quelques frayères – at the spawning grounds?
Superfétatoire – big Greek salad for party?
a large tropical rutaceous tree, Flindersia schottina, having light-coloured wood. Also called pink poplar.
the agalma
Europe's top banker calls for calm - Jean-Claude Trichet wants more… - Tricher means to cheat
Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent...
So when your friends arrive with a huge bag of cherries and you take a bowl out of the cupboard (love that word) thinking to yourself oooooooooo yes, life is a bowl of cherries – but not just that, luckily - then you are already starting to feel guilty about not being able to eat them all quickly enough, as if it was somehow your shameful fault that they were going to rot.
