Monday, July 14, 2008
There is only one national anthem that I can sing beginning to end, the French one. I learnt it when I was eleven and it has stayed with me all this time, as clear, and just as loved, as the Spider-man theme. Today is Bastille Day and while I am pottering around the house (although I should really do so around the garden, more on this another day perhaps), I am thinking of the nation at play, the people cracking champagne glasses against champagne glasses, puffing on their now banned fags, fireworks in the distance, summer rightly ushered in. Well, I can dream. Meanwhile, the sky here is steel-like, with a baffling temperature of 20 degrees Celsius that feel as comfortable as the inside of a vacuum cleaner. Just ask Merv and those blasted, fat horse flies.