Come fly with me

Heading off in a few hours to CDG airport for Sydney via Hong Kong. Almost exactly a 24 hr trip overall, including a 2 hr stopover in HK. I have packed Balthazar, Canada by Richard Ford and the new Arden edition of The Tempest as reading material.
I am totally unprepared for this feeling of being packed and ready to go hours in advance - so not me of recent years.

What's in a name

Do we choose names for our children or do the names choose them I wonder? My three elder daughters are named Cecelia, Isabelle and Catharine. Which one do you think is the "little" princess proto-fashionista, who insists on wearing heels even though she is already six inches taller than her classmates? Which one is aggresively independent, always ready to bestow affection but often only on her terms? Which one is conservative, fearfully respectful of the status quo and the "correct" way to do things?

Au soleil

Just a splendidly, life-affirmingly sunny late winter's day, and as the Saturday afternoon taxi service had a rare day off I was able to do some much needed work in the garden for several hours. Even had to strip down to a tshirt at one point while working in the sun. And yet there is snow forecast for early next week! By the end of the day I was rewarded with a large bowl of freshly made broccoli soup followed by a long hot soak in the bath to soothe some tired muscles. Have started reading "Chemistry of Tears" by Peter Carey

Little things

It is the little moments that can bring the greatest clarity and joy. I took a day off yesterday to spend with my family, as this is the first week of a two week "mid-winter break" imposed on the French school-year and that disrupts it quite significantly to say nothing of the families who have to cope with looking after their schoolage children. But hey otherwise when would people have the chance to go skiiing, right - so it's all good?
In the morning I took three of my offspring to a swimming centre while the fourth was off all day at a table tennis camp. And there was an intensely sweet moment when the two older girls were amusing themsleves with newly purchased masks and snorkels, whilst my youngest ASD-suffering daughter was, for the first time, independently waiting patiently inline for her turn to go on a water slide without needing to have her hand held or be supervised closeup to make sure she took her turn appropriately. I was able to just sit by the side of the pool, feet dangling in the warm water and actually relax for a few minutes, the first time EVER when I have been supervising the girls at the pool.
And it felt like - wow, maybe I haven't fucked things up for them too much after all.

Shakespeare à la française

My first experience of Shakespeare in translation was memorable but not for the preferred reasons. My initial disquiet came when I realised the title translates as "A Summer Night's Dream", losing immediately all the associations with the specific festival of Midsummer and the revels associated with the summer solstice. I was familiar enough with the play to have no trouble following events on stage, even if I could only understand maybe 75% of what was being said, and I soon realised that when you strip Shakespeare of its rhythm and the uniquely rich Elizabethan English language in which he was immersed and transformed into a potent instrument you take the heart and soul out of the piece. It was rather like watching an enthusiastic cover band mangle your favorite music. even granting the best of intentions on their part, it simply wasn't a patch on the "real thing". But then again, all translation is betrayal, isnt it.