If not now, then when?

IF NOT NOW, THEN WHEN? still on: berlinletters.blogspot.com 

Bare with me - I was still experimenting (shouldn't we all?), searching (aren't we all), trying (even PINK does it in her new song): 

so I hope the new found title will please you as much as me - because I think, especially when we are on the shady side of forty, fifty, sixty or whatsoever that  'It is a truth universally acknowledged' that time goes by, so we will ask ourselves: 

             IF NOT NOW, THEN WHEN? 

Please follow me on berlinletters.blogspot.com!

Only to remind you: this is now my new blog. You'll find me under www.berlinletters.blogspot.com - and as I look nowadays only on the followers on my blog-list there, I would be unhappy to miss your post. Please just come over and join me!

On my own account: I have a new blog

                                                    "Britta's letters from Berlin"

my blog starts today under www.berlinletters.blogspot.de 

It has the title: "A little premature, isn't it?" - that doesn't need an explanation...
See:
my Landlady in London has failed me. First she wrote: "Everything is OK - please book your flight" - which I did. Then she found a long-term paying guest, who stays from September 1st.
I am not angry with her, because I can understand that as an artist she needs the rent for living, and it is better to know you get it six months and not only one month - but nevertheless: I cannot give back the flight tickets, have no travel cancellation insurance, and cannot even give them to someone else, so on Tuesday they will run out.
Well - it is as it is. No use to cry about spilt milk.
Instead I have a little bit more time (though we go on holiday next month, too).
I thought a lot about my blogs.
I love burstingwithhappiness - poem and photograph - so I'll keep it.
My blog gardeninginhighheels will remain - but mostly get posts in the garden seasons.
But 'Youarewittyandpretty' - I wasn't that happy with it. Too long, too vague. So I thought: what do I really like?
I LOVE writing letters.
(I have a technical problem with Blogger's Dynamic View: I can only write posts for 'Britta's Happiness of the Day' by entering over the blog address of Youarewittyandpretty. So I will have to keep that blog, but will not use it).
                              Britta's letters from Berlin shall be short (hopefully), about my everyday life, sometimes with a photograph, sometimes without. Letters from Berlin - but not necessarily about Berlin.
Your comments will be your letters that come back to me.
I'm looking forward to them -

Wait, oh yes wait a minute mister postman!

Mister postman look and see
If there's a letter in your bag for me???  

"I'm just sitting on a Fence" - seeing you again in October, I hope!

Dear Followers,
thanks to you all! You gave wonderful advice - and made it clear that you like my blogs.
Thank you for that! 
At the moment I feel that I moan a bit too much - which I think neither witty nor pretty :-)
And gardening on a balcony has its limitations - even in ballerinas.
So I will take a creative pause - or whatever the term is. From now on till the end of September I'll let the above mentioned blogs rest (I'm not one who recklessly throws things away :-), and keep only 'Britta's Happiness of the Day' on www.burstingwithhappiness.blogspot.com - though in a reduced form: two or three times a week should be enough.
So I hope you remember the ol' Tom Jones Song "Try to remember the kind of September" - the important thing is the refrain, of course:

Try to remember, and if you remember,
Then follow.

Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow,
Follow, follow, follow, follow.

Discussions

Good arguments. On both sides.
"I will stop blogging.", I told Husband. "I think it is the right thing to do. I will have more time to write Something More Substantial. You see: it frays out my time - looking for photos (each day one for 'Burstingwithhappiness), looking for poems, sometimes translating them from German into English (a very unprofessional thing to do). Waiting for comments, looking at the stats (oh, they roar at Happiness - while the comments that come on Youarewittyandpretty are manifold, but not the stats. Best results concerning price-earning ratio is Gardeninginhighheels). And I don't want to increase the number of followers, though I know how to do it - but that would mean more attention and re-commenting, and..."
"I don't think it is a good idea to stop now", said Husband. "You are a bit tired now - normally you are strong and positive but at the moment your spirits are a bit low, understandably..."
"But that is why I want to do it - I don't want to be on the lookout for comments anymore, don't want to lose a single moment by thinking about how my 'readers' might like or dislike it, I..."
"I don't think it is a good idea. You have a bit much on your plate at the moment" - "That's why! I need my strength!" - "... and blogging takes off your thoughts of the very tragic and sad blow of fate that happened to your best friend's child three days before. You are brooding too much."
"You are right. So you don't think that it would be a wise move?"
"No, definitely not. You love your blogs. You love your fellow-bloggers. You get inspiration, feed back, ideas and tips and..."
"Yes, you are right. Forty: love."

Vice versa

Today: everything done in another way. Breaking the routine. Strong coffee first thing in the morning instead of tea, rolls instead of porridge, no grapefruit and the egg can wait. Still in my nightie, and yes: it is later than usual, because yesterday evening I cooked dinner for friends. We sat long on the balcony, so sweet and warm the air, and raised the first Pimm's No. 1 of this summer to the stars above. 

Too many Churches...

It might be the churches.
Too many of them - in a town that is allowed to call itself city, because they counted (very generously) more than 100 000 inhabitants.
Hildesheim is a Catholic diaspora. In Mainz, where I studied, I became aquainted with Catholicism in the form of "laissez faire" (we call it: To let five be an even number) - Hans' aunt Maria, for example, surprised me by saying laughingly: "Who often goes on a pilgrimage will seldom become sacred" (that in the matchless dialect of Mainz). And I, coming from the Evangelic Church of Bremen, indulged in the sheer sensuality of Catholicism in Bavaria: gold and jewels in abundance, Saints for every wish and woe, relics and baroque splendour and frankincense.
Hildesheim has a strange form of Catholicism, Puritan almost - stern, rigorous, austere.
But the churches are beautiful.
Take St. Godehard - the Basilica, which belongs to the biggest buildings in the Romanesque style of Northern Germany, stands on a little hill near the island where our house is.  

Godehard was Bishop of Hildesheim from 1022 to 1038 - an art-lover, church-builder and adherent of the reform of Cluny. On June 16, 1133 A.D., Bishop Bernhard laid the foundation-stone of the St.Godehard Church.
I will spare you the many 'Strokes of Fate' - and prefer showing you some pictures of this really beautiful church: the lucidity of its architecture, the structural abundance of the column capitals and the cube and scaly friezes.

The more than life-sized figure of St. Godehard is from 1450. The huge wheel chandelier over the altar was a present of Mary, the last Queen of Hanover, 1864. 

By the way: the Basilica is more idyllic than you might have thought from the first glance above: 

And the vicarage always reminds me of Jane Austen: 

As you know, I take wisdom and solace from where I can find it - so maybe the lighting of a candle and for sure all the good wishes and prayers from friends have helped:

we are very grateful that Hans, being an athletical man, recovers so well that maybe he might leave the Rehab center on coming Friday - and be finally in our flat in Berlin. 

"Our house...in the middle of our street..."

These weeks I had time to live in our house again.

Here we have lived as a tiny family: father, mother son - for 19 years. Longest time of my life in one place.

Our house was built in 1902. It lies in one of the best residential areas in Hildesheim: a little (half-) island, surrounded on one side by the river 'Innerste' and the 'Kalenberger Graben' on the other side. We have streets that are called "Great Venice" and 'Little Venice' - which says all.

The whole street was the result of an architectural contest - and shows some of the very few buildings that survived the war. 

Six years after we had bought it, the complete street was put under "protection of historical buildings and monuments" - which was not always a joy for us, because I had a lot of 'interesting discussions' with the curator of monuments - an out-and-outer for others (in his house of the 17th century he pulled inside down every wall - but at this point, dear reader, Husband would roll his eyes and say: "Have you to keep on and on?" Eh - YES ).
On the photo below the left one is our house: around the windows in the shade you might guess the yellow sandstone I was not allowed either to let paint or sandblast(!). Three floors, every room about 4m high, stucco and beautiful carved doors:  one big flat on knee-high ground-floor (175 qm where we lived, now let), 4 little flats (Hans' library-and working-flat is on the first floor, 3 others are let). The four streets of rows of houses form a square full of gardens. 

These are houses around us (to be honest: I'm not a big fan of wooden framework) :

On the other side lives the Lord Mayor of Hildesheim:

We left Hildesheim almost 8 years ago, and now I asked myself: "Why did we leave?"  
Son went to study Law at the University in Freiburg. Hans and I went first to Hamburg, then moved to Berlin - he always working at the University of Hildesheim, commuting, me working in Hamburg, and now trying to skive off to free-lancing translation and writing in Berlin. 
I think I found an answer to: Why did we leave? 
(to be continued :-)

"Do as the Sundial - count only the happy hours"

This quote was written ump-teen times into friendship books in scrawly pupil's writing.

Husband is recovering, in tiny steps, and we are thankful.

I have not much access to the Internet at the moment, so I could not read the post which 'Pondside' mentioned (I might have got it all wrong) - but it seems that 'Friko' remarked about bloggers who always write about their happy life instead of showing 'life as it is'. 

First: look at the 'Idiot Gardener' - he uses the hyperbole, exaggerating misfortune and crudeness to make you laugh. 

Second: as I posted about our misfortune to inform you why I can't comment on your blogs I hope I was not wallowing in self-pity. 

Because I am convinced that seeing the world negative (in their eyes = Realism - being positive they call "seeing life through rose-tinted glasses", meaning daftness) is not an expression of 'thinking' and 'being realistic'. In (modern) literature awful unhappiness even seems to be a synonym for being ART. (I am partaking in a Literary circle in Berlin - and every book we read is more depressing than the one before). 

I like to be entertained and amused, superficial as this might seems to the gloomy people without the trace of a smile on their faces - life is so hard! I can't grasp it: they have friends, shelter, nourishment and so on - but nineteen out of twenty look discontent and disgusted.  

I found out that even in the eye of the cyclone I am able to notice a bit of beauty: the shrill chasing of the swallows, the soft smell of the sweet peas, the sun on my skin. Though I feel pain or grief I still have a part of the Tao or God in my soul which thankfully notices that Life as a whole is a miracle and beautiful. 

To notice this, I think, is a sort of discipline that one can learn. 

Lamenting, moaning, complaining - in short: the full monty - can be an unhealthy addiction (the body produces adrenalin in doing so - you give yourself a kick to which you really can get addicted). 

I don't speak of denying pain or sorrow. They exist, and one has every right to be unhappy and full of anxiety. But there are people - who are not even afflicted - who wallow in 'Think what might have happened!' (on the first day after Husband's accident one woman told me -well-meaning, of course - that I might claim a wheelchair for Husband! She also knew that all the hard-working doctors were fools, doing everything wrong, the nurses were lazy, the social system is going down the trubes, and that other people had experienced REAL misfortune (which she depicted in a litany of heard-of gruesome pictures). 

After that I almost needed a hospital bed too :-) 

Such negative people are often also very rude in other situations - they "call a spade a spade" - well, well, well... 

Now give me my rose-tinted sun-glasses again!  

Here and now I want to thank our lot of lovely, helpful, wonderful friends and acquaintances, want to thank you for your support: we are very, very grateful for that! 

"If You Want to Make God Laugh, ...

... Tell Him Your Plans."
Now: I don't think this quote is a very witty one - it seems to insinuate that a cruel God is sabotaging deliberately your plans, and that is not what I believe.
Why I choose the quote nevertheless?
I wrote in my last post about the 'Dolce far niente' that I wanted to enjoy.
I did - exactly till half past four on Wednesday afternoon.
Then my mobile rung and a woman asked: "Are you Mrs. Hügel?"
"Yes", I answered, "and who are you?"
It was the doctor from a hospital in Hildesheim, who informed me in a very kind and sensible way, that - vital functions all ok - my husband had a severe bicycle accident in Hildesheim, where he works at the university.
I sat in the train as quick as I could (very quick!) and rushed in two hours there.
We have been quite lucky under the circumstances - if one can call many broken bones luck.
Yesterday we could celebrate Husband's birthday - he still being in intensive care unit - and we are both thankful that he can think, speak, see, hear, spine and all joints are ok.
Now I will spend a lot of time in Hildesheim (without Internet in the house, but I will find a way - but don't be cross that I cannot comment your posts as quick as I want to) - hopping to Berlin now and then, till he is healthy again to come to Berlin.
It will take time.

Have a seat!

Isn't it nice that you don't have to be a V.I.P. but only a normal, though very tired guest of the Café Tambosi in Munich to be offered these comfortable seats?
I will sit down a bit, the Hofgarten at the back of the Cafè, (of course I will write about it on gardeninginhighheels.blogspot.com)

with a view on the Feldherrenhalle and the Theatinerkirche:

You can see some more photos of Munich at burstingwithhappiness.blogspot.com (like a good cappuccino always covered with a poem) - but here, I fear, you have to wait a while. It is so comfortable! 
And I have to think a bit about blogging on three blogs, and its effects on 'real work'.
The only thing I will do the next days is stirring my coffee (yes, some more sugar, please!),
and enjoy (already back in Berlin) the
                                                  Dolce far niente. 

Just beautiful!

"Ah .. umm ... so-so" - one glance out of the window and you know it is -
WHAT? The first day of SUMMER?? June?? You bet!
13°C in the morning, but the radio cheers us with the promise that it will get up to 15°.
Mmmh.
Might be a golden opportunity to show you the two books I found in London, and make a cuppa and thumb through a bit.
At Foyles, of course, I found them. (As with migrating birds the way to that bookshop is engraved into my brain's navigation system. Kind of magnetism. I went there oh so often - and you are welcome to talk of e-books and clouds and whatsoever: I love to see books presented on shelves, love them humming at me - love to feel them, their sort of paper, their heaviness).
And this year there were two books I always came back to:
"London, You're Beautiful. An Artists Year" by David Gentleman is really - beautiful!

Drawings and sketches as I like them - month by month, and interesting little texts.

I draw myself a bit, because I think a sketch sometimes gets more to the gist then a photo (yes, in my next life I will re-appear as a Geisha: I can do all these Arts a little bit in a good amateurish way: draw, write, sing and so on, whatever is required in that profession - come to think of it I might be a typical "Höhere Tochter", a German term for young Ladies from the Upper Class in the last(!) century). 

So the second book I bought that had caught my eye by it's design AND its content is on a subject that always fascinates me: "The Perfectly Imperfect Home" by Deborah Needleman. 

 Decoration - with the promise of "The perfectly Imperfect" - my motto - and again light sketches the way I love:

Not "Art" - just "witty and pretty".
"Any house or room remembered with pleasure has the look of being loved by those who live in it",
said Billy Baldwin.
And he is right. Today, I think, I'll spend quite a lot of time in our home.
Ah, and don't forget: switch the light on - that makes even a dark 1. June look bright :-)

The Queen. Art & Image

I love to look at people. You find me in (almost) every exhibition of portraits I can get to – so it was a very special treat to see “The Queen. Art&Image” in the National Portrait Gallery (curator Paul Moorhouse).

The “Portrait of Queen Elizabeth II” by Pietro Annigoni, 1954-5 impressed me: A very upright young Queen with a Grand Admiral’s Cape. One can only speculate how it would feel to be raised to the task of monarch. She was so young when she became Queen, so beautiful and full of energy, seemingly without a doubt about her role, so aloof.

“When I was a little child, it always delighted me to look out of the window and see the people and the traffic going by”, said the Queen once - that was interpreted for the Annigoni portrait as: ‘The image suggests an individual gazing at the world from a position of isolation.’

The theme of the Monarch in an Admiral’s Cape is repeated through the decades: by Annigoni 1954, Cecil Beaton 1968, Annie Leibovitz 2009.

On the other hand (my favourite) we see the private person: the Queen under an umbrella, laughing into a rainy sky. 

The image changes gradually.

We see a portrait by Gerhard Richter, that shows a blurred portrait of a Queen, surrounded by a sort of haze.

Then we see the Queen in her family, no longer stiff portraits but ‘relaxed’ meetings.

What I admire: though giving in to more nearness to the public the Queen always keeps a sort of personal distance.

So the snapshot of the Queen looking at Castle Windsor after the fire seems almost indecent to me (as I always think of photographs of persons in grief, whichever rank in life they have – I wish they were protected to keep their dignity, not being exposed).

The peak of image change comes after the death of Diana, Princess of Wales.

What I admire: the Queen very seldom rejects the request for a portrait, and she doesn’t censore or comment on a portrait. No comments on Justin Mortimer’s or Lucien Freud’s portrait. I never forgot the cover of the Sex Pistols' single “God Save the Queen” by Jamie Reid – funny -, but after a short glance at  “Medusa” by John Locke I have forgotten that one in a minute.

Unsettling: the holograms. Especially the last one, where the Queen has closed her eyes. 

The official Jubilee-Portrait by the German Thomas Struth gives a successful synthesis of Art&Image: for first time you see the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh, as Struth said, "both in their royal environment... and yet both in their own aura".
Though official, it is a (huge) photograph with a private touch, both sitting on a beautiful sofa (not a throne!) in Windsor Castle’s Green Drawing Room. The Queen is a bit nearer to the viewer, more light on her face and powder-blue dress, looking aloof but almost vulnerable to me. I pondered what made the tweak in that portrait, and I think it is the “Image” of Royalty in the baroque splendour versus her comfortable black shoes. Even a Queen is human and gets older. Someone wrote: “.. the Duke appears to fall back into shadow” – that I cannot confirm: the vivid presence of Prince Philip, a beautiful man, drew me back at least three times after having made my round.
Because this portrait shows – to me – not only the image, but it shows love and understanding between a couple. 

I feel it: He ist he love of her life.

PS: I found a beautiful little gem about Prince Philip in a German newspaper from 1950: “As any other proud father Prince Philip went himself to the registrar to let the birth of his son been registrated. He took the ration cards, which were allowed to every new born child, and bought himself the bottle of codliver-oil and the two bottles orange juice, that every new born was allocated out as extra ration."

"As my Whimsy takes me"

This will be a short post. Promised.
Cause I still to have unpack a few things, being back from a week in London.
And it is so hot, even now when the air stirs a bit and the sun is sinking. In a few minutes I will sit beside my sweet smelling roses on the balcony and drink a glass of fine chilly white wine. Ahh!
But I thought a lot not only in London of Lord Peter's motto: "As my Whimsy takes me", which I have adopted over a decade ago.
I have good travel guides - but I prefer to follow my whimsy. And not only on travels.
In London I met a dear exciting friend - and made new ones: Louise, whom I only knew via Facebook, came from Dover and we spent a lovely day in the V&A and Kensington Gardens.
And the author of the Leon-Cookbook, Henry Dimbleby, and his wonderful wife Mima invited me spontaneously to their home and cooked for me - such an amusing, witty and nourishing evening  that went by like a minute.
The whole week flew by in the blink of an eye (I will not get allegoric about that now, because then the post will become longer :-)
I'll raise my glass to you instead and greet you all:
"Cheers! Sláinte! Good to see/read you again!"

When nothing goes right/ turn left.

When nothing goes right / turn left. 
Yogi Berra

Sometimes I am in dire need of a quick laugh. This morning I skimmed aimlessly through my notebook - and found this quote of Lawrence Peter 'Yogi' Berra. Born 1925 in St. Louis, Missouri, he was a famous baseball player, nowadays mostly known for his sayings, which seem often a bit strange, but include more wisdom than one guess at the first glance.
In career guidance I especially love:
"If you come to a fork on a road, take it."
(No, I'm not mocking my clients - but sometime there must be an end of pondering and procrastinating, and one should act at last).
"If you don't know where you are going, you might wind up someplace else", is another favourite of mine.
And we all know the deep wisdom of this one:
"In theory there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice there is."
Sometimes I wish I had his nerves:
"I never blame myself when I am not hitting. I just blame the bat and if it keeps up, I change bats. After all, I know it isn't my fault that I'm not hitting, how can I get mad at myself?" 
Well, I can.
And of course he is right with this corker:

"It ain't over till it's over." 

Lost and Found

I just read Nutty Gnome's post on "Réunion" and thought about old friends, and listened to The Kinks "Lost and Found"...
Sometimes it is like that: you lose sight of each other - then, suddenly, you try to find them again - and when you meet it is as if you just enter a room that you've left a minute ago (though it might have been many years).
Sometimes Life's circumstances develop in such a different way - one gets children, the other tries to build a career, and both don't talk of anything else, and each one thinks "One more mentioning of baby food < - > statistics - and I'll go mad!" And then, like Piglet, both have "very particular morning things" to do or move to another town. Silence for a couple of years.
Then one day you flip through old letters and think: "What might she be doing?" and look into Facebook or Stayfriends - and if you are lucky you find her again.
Often there is a Happy End.
And sometimes not: I laughed very much at IG's comment to Nutty Gnome:

I went on an exchange visit with a toerag named Eric Tossi. I believe I blogged about him once! I'm glad your relationship has lasted. Eric and I failed to connect, although I do wish, with hindsight, I'd beaten him senseless!

Yes, IG - I remember that post :-)
And I remember that I still feel a bit guilty about my pen pal Michel. Of course French - our French teacher had given us the adresses to enhance our French. As I did.
Such a lovely exchange of letters!
Then he announced he wanted to visit me. And sent me a photograph.
I do hope that I have become more mature nowadays, I really do! (I'm sure: skin-deep I have :-).
Because - you guess what happened?
Being a very superficial young lady at that time - one glance at the photo - -
and I remembered that I had something very important to do:

"...a very particular morning thing, that has to be done in the morning, and, if possible between the hours of - What would you say the time was?" "About twelve" (...)
"Between, as I was saying, the hours of twelve and twelve five. So, really, (...) if you'll excuse me -".  

Change?

Nothing in the world is permanent, and we're foolish when we ask anything to last, but surely we're still more foolish not to take delight in it while we have it. 

W.Somerset Maugham 

Yesterday I tried something new in 'my' Blogland - some of you may have noticed it: I changed my template to the new Dynamic Version - Mosaic - as I have already done in "Gardening in Highheels" and "Britta's Happiness of the Day." 

I loved the result. So non-committing. So optional. So "new". 

See: I love change. 

Then I tried to write a new post - this one - on my other computer, a  Mac - where I have all my "old" photographs from Hamburg, like the one above. 

But I could not get at my homepage there, so I changed the template back. 

Now my question to you: 

 

Which template do you like more? 

(To see the new one you have to look at www.burstingwithhappiness.blogspot.com to compare). 

And another question: 

How do you notice when I have written a new post? 

I take all of your blogs on my blog list - one glance at the left side of my template and I see who has written something new. But those who chose to show only a selection of blogs on their bloglist: how do you notice a new post of mine? You write comments, so there must be a way. 

Please tell me - and if you prefer the new version, I'll find a way to change it. 

Stuck

Do you know this feeling? It comes out of the blue. Nothing dramatically has happened (thank God). Maybe it is just this feeling that nothing happens. 
Feeling stuck. Rien ne va plus. 
Everyone and everything seems to squat on its old place without moving a jota. The radio plays the same old songs. I’m captivated by a time warp, cotton between me and the world outside. Listlessly I drink a tea. While English people say “Just wait and see!” Germans advise “Wait and drink tea!” So I do. Sip another cup of Lady Grey and stare into the fine drizzle outside. 
Of course I know what ‘happened’. Yin and Yang. What goes up must come down. And vice versa.  
So I tell myself to take a rest, allow myself to do nothing. (I’m not good at that). Usually I start a new project before I finish another. This time I don’t know which of my new projects is really worth that my heart glows for it. I feel distracted. A bit subdued. 
Which of course is utterly unfair: one glimpse into my Gratitude Journal would show me that.  
Stubbornly I refuse to have a look.  
Maybe I just want to sit here doing nothing? For a day at least: not doing anything but let it happen, as the New Agers say? Charge the batteries, as an engineer would say? I can relax: Life will move on in its own wonderful way.  
So I’ll just have a walk without an aim (but an umbrella). Or take a pencil and draw instead of taking quick pictures with my camera.  
I’ll be looking carefully, be silent (as good as I can, with that monkeymind), try to forget the ‘World of the Tenthousand Things’, just comfort the body - then mind and soul will follow. 
As Scarlett O’Hara put it so nicely: 
"After all, tomorrow is another day."

A very special Easter Egg

I’m so proud! 

The book “Leon. Backen. Herzhaft&Süß” is now published by DuMont on the German market – and I translated it. 

Written by Claire Ptak and Henry Dimbleby the book was such a joy to translate. 

Lovely pictures inspire, 

the recipes are easy to bake - as some of you will remember: I 'tried and tested' them, and are often done with a lot of wholesome though delicious ingredients. 

 A real treat!  

I WISH YOU ALL A HAPPY EASTER!  

Coming to my Senses

This time I joined: as I told you last year, my kin give up something during Lent: Son (smoking and alcohol) and Husband (alcohol, he does not smoke).

Basically I think that is a good idea, and so I said: “OK, until Easter no sweets, no alcohol for me either!”

Not that I need to lose weight or drink too much, but I wanted to test willpower and discipline.

At the beginning I thought sometimes of delicious dark Belgian chocolate – and now, when the sun comes out and people sit outside the cafés and drink Chablis from glasses that so nicely mist up, I sigh and say to myself: “Easter comes soon.” But it is not such a strong temptation that I have to follow Oscar Wilde "and yield to it to get rid of it” - I soon forget it, unlike the monk in the well-known Zen story: 

Two monks were traveling together. When they came to a wild river, a beautiful woman asked if they could help her.

The one monk carried this woman on his shoulder over the river and let her down on the other bank. The other monk was very angry, but said nothing.

After they both had walked about an hour in silence, the first monk enquired “Is something the matter, you seem so upset?” The other answered, “As monks, we are not permitted a woman, how could you then carry that woman on your shoulders?” The other replied, “I left the woman a long time ago at the bank, however, you seem to be carrying her still.” 

But one thing I know: though I will continue my ‘fast’ now, I will not repeat it next year.

Why should I?

I knew before that I have a strong will, if necessary – so no need to test that again. Normally I do as I please - who knows how often in life one can enjoy the beautiful things that God/the Tao/ a Higher Being created for us and gives us as a present to savour it? And Joey Adam's funny warning: “Do not worry about avoiding temptation. As you grow older it will avoid you" might have a morsel of truth in it :-) 

So on Easter you will see this woman happily say “Cheers!”

Occupy 'Switch to Summer Time'!

"Ever since summer time had been inaugurated a few years before, it had been one of the chronic dispensions of Tilling. Miss Mapp, Diva and the Padre flatly refused to recognize it, except when they were going by train or tram, when principle must necessarily go to the wall, or they would never have succeeded in getting anywhere, while Miss Mapp, with the halo of martyrdom round her head, had once arrived at a summer-time party an hour late, in order to bear witness to the truth, and in consequence, had got only dregs of tea and the last faint strawberries. But the Major and Captain Puffin used the tram so often, that they had fallen into the degrading habit of dislocating their clocks and watches on the first of May, and dislocating them again in the autumn, when they were forced into uniformity with properly-minded people. Irene was flippant on the subject, and said that any old time would do for her. The Poppits followed convention, and Mrs. Poppit, in naming the hour for a party to the stalwarts, wrote "4:30 (your 3.30)." The King, after all, had invited her to be decorated at a particular hour, summer time, and what was good enough for the King was good enough for Mrs. Poppit.
The sermon was quite uncompromising. There was summer and winter, by Divine ordinance, but there was nothing said about summer time and winter time. There was but one Time, (...)
The doctrine was so much to her mind that Miss Mapp gave a shilling to the offectory instead of her usual sixpence, (...) The Padre, it is true, had changed the hour of services to suit the heresy of the majority, and this for a moment made her hand falter. But the hope, after this convincing sermon, that next year morning service would be at the hour falsely called twelve decided her not to withdraw this handsome contribution.

E.F.Benson  Miss Mapp