Sunday, April 19/2026

 

The best cartoon commentaries on the war are the brilliant Lego animations produced by young Iranians. My blogging doesn’t run to videos but satire is essential for sanity.

Saturday, April 18/2026

Shaft of sunlight and banks of clouds fight for ascendancy as mountains fade out. Not photoshopped. Actually not easy to tell for much of the day whether it is cloud or Saharan dust obscuring mountains and sea. And that in the intervals between showers. Dust alert today. Should leave a brief season between Mediterranean dust alerts and Canadian forest fire smoke alerts. 

Is definitely spring here, though, and in Canada would pass for summer. Temperatures now hitting twenty plus. Just very indecisive.

According to the meteorologists the dust will “vanish” at midnight. Quite possibly. It will be too dark to tell.

Make rock cakes today with half of the remaining butter. Internet pleased to explain that the recipe became popular because it was easy for children learning to bake (true). Also many sites explaining that it was recommended as a UK wartime recipe because it used small amounts of rationed ingredients. Eggs (one, OK - though adult egg ration was one per week). Sugar (50 grams, not bad). Raisins.  Butter (100 grams. WHOA!  For much of the war the butter ration was 2 oz per week. A hundred grams is 3.5 ounces. That’s nearly two weeks’ butter ration to make a dozen biscuit sized rock cakes!). Can only conclude that cheerful info re value as wartime recipe comes from people born post war. Actually well after the war as UK rationing didn’t end until 1954. 

Note that these conclusions based on my knowledge of history and not personal wartime memories.

Friday, April 17/2026

Ginger cat with tip of tail missing is one of the regulars that crosses our terrace on its way to who knows where. Early this morning as the sky decides whether or not to deliver rain it creates a refuge underneath the buddleia on the edge of the terrace. Pretty well camouflaged too. (Bottom left quadrant). 

J engaged in anticide as ants the size of microdots begin busying themselves along the inside of the French doors opening onto the terrace. Seems familiar so search blog. Two years ago, almost to the day, the ants came marching one by one 🐜🐜🐜. Have tried vinegar this year and cayenne in 2024. Ants determined to hold out for full lethal dose, so Monday down to friendly DYI.

Weather spends the morning making up its mind re rain. Plenty of thunder of the sound and fury signifying something slightly short of a full born storm. And then rain. We’re hoping for a dry walk down to the Blue Song. But shortly before one, the skies clear. Criegan not here today and Pat gone for the summer, but Daphne shows up as well as Beverley and John, for our last gathering of the season.

Thursday, April 16/2026

 

A war of rhetoric as well, unhappily, as a real war causing significant civilian death - and not primarily as “collateral damage”. 

The magic words in the first week were “escalation ladder” and “exit ramp” and they’re still with us. Used by analysts on all sides and along the left right spectrum. Those providing commentary in English that is, and some Iranian analysts are extremely fluent in English.

Recently the ladder and the ramp have been joined by cards. A game of skill, or lack of it, and bluff. And much discussion about who “holds all the cards”. Twenty-four hour news reporting now exacerbated by a president who communicates - if that is indeed the word for it - on a near twenty-four hour schedule.

And the card image brings to mind the line of one wit during the Brexit negotiations.  “EU lays down a royal flush. UK looks at own cards: Mr Bun the Baker, Pikachu, a Shadowmage, a fireball spell, and the Fool.”

Wednesday, April 15/2026

Horst’s funeral this morning. We don’t attend, but do watch the live stream. Very nicely done with tributes from Caroline and Beverley. As Beverley said “A gentleman and a gentle man”. (Predictive text struggling - did I want gentleman to be one word or two?) 

And a farewell not without humour. Caroline remembered the European trip that Horst led where he advised the group to check at the reception desk for vouchers for a free crap. Turned out he meant to say crèpe. Don’t know about his French, but his English was very fluent - all the more impressive because he had taught it to himself in his fifties.

Tuesday, April 14/2026

 

Frequently dogs hanging out beside our little supermarket. Some may be strays, but definitely not all of them. Often have collars. But supermarkets are friendly places - and who knows, there might be a bone coming their way. Saw two sitting outside the open door once as a young dog waltzed in. Could almost see the cartoon bubbles above their heads saying “We’re not allowed to go inside”. And of course the pup didn’t get to stay. 

Shop has a nice quince gin, good on ice in hot weather. The company does make a sister drink - a pink gin. But what flavour is pink? Pink what - crayon? Read the fine print (and I’m not the only person for whom reading the fine print means taking a phone shot and enlarging it). Strawberry and raspberry. Sounds OK. Gave it a try a while back. More like pink crayon. The quince is pretty good though.

Monday, April 13/2026

Summer? Not quite. But the neighbour’s grapevine is sporting new growth. And today is the first day that it is too hot to sit out on the terrace. Not too wet or too windy - just too hot. That’s midday and early afternoon, of course. Cools off in the late afternoon. 

Long memories in this part of the world. Thus singer İşin Karaca (British citizen, UK born to a family of Turkish Cypriot origin) was refused entry to Greece on the weekend, although her husband and her daughter, with whom she was on holiday were admitted. Karaca was then deported from Athens. 

No reason was given for the refusal. Of course immigration officials are not obliged to provide a reason for not admitting you and would frequently be wiser not to. However, Karaca assumes, probably correctly, that it was because she had sung the Izmir Marşi, the Turkish independence song at a festival in Izmir, Türkiye, two years ago. 

The song celebrates Turkish independence - from Greek occupation - in 1922. Izmir, traditionally known by its Greek name Smyrna, was liberated by the founder of modern Türkiye, Kemal Ataturk, and the song includes reference to the Greeks fleeing, as indeed they were forced to do. This, of course, the extremely short version. There are more than enough horrific details in a complicated history that at various points reflects significant discredit on both sides. 

But we are talking about a song. Sung in another country. About an event that took place nearly a hundred years ago. And it could have been yesterday.