Lone palms

No pics today either...

Out of the window behind her laptop Granny can see two lone palms, two wild heads of hair if you like; one poised dramatically above sea and against sky; the other backed by white houses and stone walls - very North African (but then Morocco is only 40 miles away.) Both are the measures by which she assesses the wind - it has been tossing them furiously for the last three days; now there's the odd wave only of a petulant lock. For which much thanks. As for the ceasing at last of the endless rain and the endless leaks and the endless power cuts. The whole island has been reduced to its usual state of chaos - hospitals and roads alike. If this goes on they will have to do some work on the roofs and maybe provide the roads with gutters. Though one of the four 'dry' Canaries, its rainfall is currently higher than on the three wet ones. A spindly grass has even started to grow. What next.

Valentine's Day. What's that? Granny is now old enough to confess her shameful secret that apart from home-made items from her then very small children, the only Valentine she ever received was a joke one when she was a boarding-school, sent by nasty friends to point up how many cards they were - would be - getting from spotty youths around the country, met at the kind of dances where granny, spectacled and plump lurked miserably on the sidelines. Though she lost the spectacles and the weight over the years and had her due of anything but spotty boyfriends, none of them believed in sending unsigned postal hearts and flowers, let alone calling her smoochy koo or Poohsie Bear in the columns of the Guardian - or if they did they never told her. The more romantic of her two husbands took her out to a Valentine's dinner or two - once to an establishment called appropriately 'la pomme d'amour' - but he didn't believe in Valentine cards either - as for dear Beloved - a deeply romantic man in his own way - he thinks Valentine's Day like Mother's Day and Father's Day and all the rest are commercial conspiracies by card manufacturers among others to extract money from the gullible. He could be right. Somewhere in her internet reading today Granny encountered a mini-fridge touted as the perfect Valentine's Day present....what for - to keep feelings in? Actually she prefers them warm.

The sun came out dimly and is going down. There is the sound of Beloved chopping something behind her for an unValentine's Dinner; the still more encouraging glug glug of a bottle being emptied into a carafe. Her wrist is improving by the day - any minute now she will go to give him a hand - especially with the bottle. She can type two-handed again and has managed to acquire yesterday's Observer; a rare treat. She'll settle for all of these. Who wants hearts and flowers? Not her. Not really... NO!