A Continental Breakfast Please.

“Breakfast” is being served and heart burn is a natural side dish. But here and elsewhere this Brexit thing will unfold itself before our very eyes and once again in the world of politics, just as in the jungle of mankind it’s clearly once again: ‘Every man for himself’.. 

But I have hope. Whenever I see a hint of altruism, in anyone at all, I feel reassured. For it’s that seasoning of care, of genuine acceptance, that hint of humility, fairness and good will, that dollop of compassion that allows taste to come through. Even the flicker of just one of these ingredients may make breakfast tolerable. 

Yes Breakfast, just like war, has it’s casualties. Indigestion is almost inevitable  but we are just getting started so there’s a long way to go and who can tell what lunch dinner and supper will be like... it’s not over, not by a long shot. There’s no getting it done. It’s a long way to Tipperary and who knows what we will find if we ever get there.

OM KALTHOUM >< Egypt’s National Treasure

OM KALTHOUM 

My father knew the legendary lady (Allah yer7amha/may) before she was ever famous, but as a child I had never 'truly' listened to her, until that is, there came what I can only refer to as a fateful day; changing my perceptions for evermore. 

Parentally guided, my sister and I were asked to tag along to greet her at Sidi Gaber train station. Om Kalthoum had a respectful fondness for my father that required him to be there whenever she came to Alexandria and I am sure he was a proud man indeed for continuing to be so honoured after her inimitable fame. Standing there on the platform, dressed in elegant demure clothing, her poise and composure was tangible. Her dark glasses, although no mystery (since I knew the reason for them in some detail due to my father’s ophthalmological profession) nevertheless contributed to the enigmatic presence, one commanding resolute respect. 

The impression, thoughts and feelings I have of this one-time meeting etch themselves firmly and timelessly to my cognitive being to this very day. My memory seems to grow with me every time I recollect noting her peculiarly impenetrable exterior~ Like a shield I sensed it concealed a vulnerable inner turbulence of emotion and hence the composure that baffled me. It was then that we were privileged to attend her concert, front seats no less and I now tingle with excitement at the mere relay of what I was about to experience … quite simply: unprecedented exhilaration. Never before had I felt such a dynamic, such a force ~ 

Her song was not just song, it was an endless undrying well of life’s variations~ with each reiterated lyric a new, surprising and unspoiled message emanating each bearing a fullness of its very own. I remember it made me feel very grown-up, as if I had loved and lost and loved again although I was only of so very young an age. Her handkerchief waved passionately, sometimes gently sometimes brusquely to every resonant decibel filling the air around us until suddenly a man emerged from the back of the auditorium and sailed as if in a trance down the aisle towards her and suddenly swooned to the floor~ in ecstasy! 

Yes, it was all that and continues to be.