Posted by: tabliope | April 7, 2011

a twitch in the blog

Oh, for about 14 weeks now I’ve been thinking that I ought to blog but I just couldn’t summon up the effort.   Should there be music or trumpets or at least a shower of butterflies hovering over the blog now?  Had I been blogging I could have told you about meeting the man with the goat on a lead.  I live in a suburban area, a posh suburban area and it’s not really the sort of place that you’d expect to see anyone walking around with a goat on a lead.  I never knew people took goats on a lead anyway. Sadly I saw him only the once because he probably realised that the northern suburbs aren’t the place for a man and his goat.  Maybe I should have made more of a fuss of them.

The orange blossom is starting to come out and the scent is olafactory romance.  One moment you’re walking along yelling at the stupid traffic, the stupid drivers, the stupid roads, the stupid pavements and suddenly you catch the scent and it makes the day wonderful.  Really it does, go out and catch the scent of some orange blossom and tell me that it doesn’t make the day better.

Yesterday I was walking along the stupid pavements that are cracked and broken and full of dogshit when I found my way blocked by a car that was parked across it.  This happens so often that I just yell at the driver walk into the road and then carry on with my day muttering about stupid parking and stupid drivers.  Just as I was about to yell at the driver I noticed that it was a very elderly lady and perhaps I shouldn’t yell at her just because she’d parked her car right across the pavement.  That was when I realised that she hadn’t parked it but rather she’d crashed it.  I thank the karma gods for ensuring that I didn’t scream at an elderly lady who’d just been in a traffic accident.  Instead I got to scream at all the other drivers who screamed at her and me because we were creating a hold up on the road. Just another day in Athens.

If there were really karma gods the the man with the goat-on-a-lead would have appeared at that moment with wreaths of orange blossom.





  1. I love it when the karma gods intervene like that. They’ve saved me from cruelty and embarassment on numerous occasions.

    I’m glad you’re blogging. It’s hard after a long silence to get going again – or at least I found it so and I wouldn’t say even now that I’ve ‘got going’, but you know, one post at a time and all that.

  2. I’m glad you’re blogging too (both of you!).

    I want to start again as well and as soon as I sort out a new laptop, I will. I wonder if I can find any orange blossom in the meantime, it sounds wonderful.

  3. Poor old lady.

    I took a mate down to Deptford Market a couple of months back – it’s great fun, what with all the shouty halal butchers, the Chinese supermarket, the ‘Housewive’s Cash & Carry’ (which stocks 15 different kinds of lentils and lots and lots of stuff I don’t recognise and am not even sure if it’s food) and, of course, the African Christian bookstall selling garish tomes with titles like ‘How to be a good obedient wife’ (no, really). But I really wasn’t expecting to see a bloke with a sheep on a lead in the middle of the market. A sheep called Emily, he said – which made me a little bit worried that he might think of her as his girlfriend.

    Boringly, it turned out that Emily was there to provide some authenticity to the farmers’ market they were setting up on a side street.

  4. I feel the same way about wisteria at the moment. Even a quick glimpse from the car brightens my day – hello middle age!

  5. Orange blossom – it’s one of those smells that I’m always reading about in novels and is terribly evocative, perhaps partly because I have no idea what it actually smells like. Cordite is like that, too.

  6. Harrr! I recognise lots of faces here! There may not be ’20six’ of you, but still quite a few.
    See what I did there? Subtle.

    Heathen-iope, if that old lady had needed to see a doctor, I hope you would have taken her there on the goat.

    Zungg (Menace..?) Orange blossom smells quite a bit like jasmine, but slightly less musky and slightly more crystalline.
    All clear now I’m sure.

    • I have only a tangenital awareness of what jasmine smells like, but thank you all the same. I can certainly visualise the crystalline/musky axis. Does it smell orangey, at all?

      • ..Not orangey as such, but perhaps a hint of white honey that might at one time have been shown to an orange.

        The leaves smell like green oranges though if you crush them, is nice.

  7. scratch-n-sniff blogging is what we need.

    Hello everyone.

  8. I am rather jealous of all your shouting. Muscat could do with a bit of shouting. We’re all seething, repressed ire here.

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