Singin' in the rain, just singin' in the rain

Actually, I'm not (singing in the rain). That would be very scary indeed, at least for the neighbors. But it is raining outside. It was thundering for a while, which would explain why the cats are cowering under the nearest large piece of furniture.

I was down on the Riviera this past weekend and the first few days of the week. I had a meeting in our offices down there, so why not take the weekend as well? Especially, dahling, as I still have the house down there... Yeah. Well. Damp and mildewed and nowhere near the glitz and glamour that can be the Rivera. But it was good to get back there again. I can feel myself slipping more and more back into the French culture and environment, even though I still have four more months to go here in Germany. My German is fading, oddly enough. Is it because I don't have the patience to use it, or because I've been so cranky and impatient lately that it hasn't felt worth it? Good question. Unfortunately, my French now has overtones of German in it, so there are a number of people in France who have a very hard time understanding me. (A friend in the French office told me recently she could tell I was using German a lot during the day... I had written her an e-mail in French, and apparently I had the verb at the end of the sentence like a good German speaker put.)

Wow, look at how much can change in a bit over three weeks, since my last entry here. The first time I was in London, Christmas of 1999, I spent 5 hours standing outside King's Cross/St Pancras in the middle of the night. Long story, but there it is. Nearly every time I go up to London, I go through Russell Square on the way to or from the British Museum. I've taken the Number 30 bus. Last time I was in London, just a month ago, I went shopping on Edgeware Road and went through the Edgeware Road tube station. I imagine all of us who visit London frequently but don't live there have sat and looked at our TVs or newspapers or magazines with the same expression of shock that we'd have if we saw one of our good friends bleeding in public. It's creepy, it's spooky, and it's damned infuriating!

Why Edgeware Road? Are they trying to stir up the Muslim community, make them decide they've been oppressed and need to shake off the yoke of British imperialism? Was it just chance that it went off there? Or did that bomber know exactly what he was doing? The couple of hours I spent on Edgeware impressed me with what a vibrant, cohesive, active COMMUNITY it seemed to be, just 12 days before the attack. What is it like now?

And boy, talk about spooky. While I was in Nice airport, I picked up a new paperback. Nothing surprising there, except for the fact that I put it back on the shelf two or three times before I decided to buy it. According to Amazon.com, the hardback was published in the US in January 2005. However, the author is a Brit, so it was probably out in the UK before then. What is it? "At Risk", by Stella Rimington, the former head of the UK intelligence service. Why do I put in the detail like publication date? Because if you didn't know better you'd think it was one of these "ripped from the headlines" thrillers that come out right after an event. Let's just say that "Islamic" terrorism is aided and abetted by a homegrown cleanskin, and homemade explosives are involved. Brrr. At the same time, I'm glad it's a weekend so I can stay up late to finish it.

Currently reading: At Risk. 'nuff said.
Currently hearing: Bach, Brandenburg Concerto #1. Earlier had the Bach cello sonatas on, with Yo Yo Ma playing. Man oh man. I've wanted for several years to learn cello as well as harp, and lately I've been eying a second-hand cello in the window of the local music shop. If I do it... Well, let's just say my second purchase will be the score for the cello sonatas! I've loved them since the first time I heard them.
Current cat activity: hiding. The thunderstorms are back.
Current harp activity: I had a lesson! It actually went pretty well. Unfortunately, work and travel conspired and the poor dear has been living in its case for the last couple of weeks. Maybe tomorrow... I'm still stuck on the same pieces of harp music my teacher gave me nearly a year ago. One of them is an extremely lively Breton dance. Unfortunately, I'm still playing it to sound like a Breton funeral dirge. Someday.