No root canals, but there was a ceilidh, so things are definitely moving in the right direction.
Ceilidhs are always good fun for getting new people into Scottish Country dance. We’re convinced they were designed to be danced drunk – that’s definitely how a lot of kilted, would-be-Scots Americans danced them back in St Andrews.
There was pizza afterwards but we didn’t hang about for that. Blame the tooth trouble. Instead we had today’s tea. There should be a great segue here, about how it was a Scottish tea…
But according to the Trip Around the World Calendar, we went to Paris with Cupid’s Breakfast.
Yeah, no, we have nothing either. Poor Cupid is Greek, and the tea is a beautiful black tea with roses that anyone can buy us more of. You know, if they feel bad about not understanding what to feed us post root canal. Just a thought.
Let’s presume marketing thought it was romantic. It’s definitely a gorgeous tea.
Let’s see if we can find you a poem a bit more French than the tea, though.
Le Pont Mirabeau, or Under the Mirabeau Bridge
Guillaume Apollinaire
Under the Mirabeau bridge flows the Seine
And our loves
Must I remember them
Joy always followed pain
The night falls and the hours ring
The days go away I remain
Hand in hand let us stay face to face
While underneath the bridge
Of our arms passes
The water tired of the eternal looks
The night falls and the hours ring
The days go away I remain
Love goes away like this flowing water
Love goes away
Life is so slow
And hope is so violent
The night falls and the hours ring
The days go away I remain
Days pass by and weeks pass by
Neither past time
Nor past loves will return
Under the Mirabeau bridge flows the Seine
The night falls and the hours ring
The days go away I remain
Chorister at Home 