Love in a cup

Hi all. I have Audrey to thank for this striking resemblance of some devilshly handsome fella. He looks somewhat like Bono, methinks (my {and Descartes'} favourite word). Thanks Audrey, i especially like the pink smile (spoken like a real dandy). That's caffé espresso in my hand by the way, ma certo.

So by way of catch up, I should say that I've been luxuriating at home this past week, supposedly looking after the dog and the house while my parents sunned themselves in the sunny climes of Magaluf, but that didn't stop me sleeping in to the pm every day. After a week of such luxury, the guilt becomes too much, and so I'm soon to return deep south again. My brother exudes the pleasure of having our father's cooking back again, and I exude a bit myself (... but never on a Sunday!) We had a barbeque today and the day was truly summer. Then our uncle, his brother, drove us to the races at Down Royal after it. We proceeded to pick horses based on how good they looked in the paddock, and it wasn't the worst idea in the world. It worked for me in the sixth, where there was a fine looking animal that went by the name of 'Ask Carol'. She walked around looking at everyone like she was quite enjoying the attention, even as if she could have fielded a question or two. I focused on the wrong pair of (no, not trousers, Fionnuala!) yellow arms, and so thought she was trailing, but then I saw her storming through. I won twenty-five english pounds which left me only ten down, while Peter won sixty. My father lost (and now doesn't really fancy the sport) and my mother was minorly down, having hatched the choose-the-best-looking-one plan earlier and winning a ten-to-one shot in the first.

That was us, tonight.

I was asked to write a little piece a few days ago on Etty Hillesum for the 'instruments of peace' website, if anyone fancies taking a look. I had to write it more or less blind at short notice, so it's not the best but I'll try not to worry so much about that, breaking free of my obsessive perfectionism a little; though if there is anywhere that it's useful, it's in articles. There's also a much longer 'proper' article, more broadly based, on the NUIM website, for anyone sufficiently interested to go on treasure hunt to find it by themselves.

Friends, for I still have some and they are good, Note Bene, I'm staying down south this summer, apart from the regular sojourns back home, so anyone around and needing a bed/sofa for the night on a visit to my good self may send forth their credentials for my perusal. But I'm also hoping (not hopping) the enforced solitude may also pay some dividends study-wise - for I, the son of man, am freaking lazy, I shit you not. (I recline and imagine what the world might be like if I could only get auff me eerrse!) But loving friends will know whenever all is well and possible for Stephen, for that will be the time when he is writing here. It seems whenever the juices flow for me, they just keep going here, there and everywhere; but when they don't, which is much more common, nothing - and I mean nothing - gets done. But I'm looking forward to this summer for this reason, which is the beginning of a recommitment.

Anyway, shit-shite, here's the fillet of the small piece on Etty. Forgive, you know, like, all the things that are wrong with it.
'[Etty Hillesum] believed that most of what happens in our lives is beyond our control, beyond our freedom to choose. What wasn’t beyond our control, however, was how we decided to respond to it. We could respond to hatred with vengeance, or with an attempt to understand and love. It was obvious to her that God could not stop all ... evil from occurring, or else he would, so we had to help God by doing our part. She describes how she had the realisation of what would come after the war. “‘After this war, two torrents will be unleashed on the world: a torrent of loving-kindness and a torrent of hatred.’ And then I knew: I should take the field against hatred.”'