Love

I love halloumi.
I heard myself say that just a little while ago.
It wasn't strong enough so I said, I really love halloumi.

It's not my only love though.

I love Keith and I love my family and I love my friends, all over the place.
I love drawing and knitting and singing and not working.
I love seeing new things both near and far, I love being at home.
I love blip, and blipping.
I love WhatsApp for keeping up with the important things in life.
I love reading, and books and new ideas.
Apparently I love the Guardian newspaper and political sketch writer John Crace in particular.
And Trevor Noah, and Stephen Colbert - love them too.

I have a feeling I'm hard wired to love stuff, since it comes so easily.
I loved working with English, with art, with the union.
I loved organising my work in such a way as to reduce waste and effort.
I love translating and working with language, but not too much.
I love sitting quietly working on some art, with a cup of coffee to hand.
I love walking in the world around me, and taking photos.

I don't love Trump. Or May, or Boris, or any of the whole rotten boiling of the people bringing the country of my birth to its knees.
I don't love the way the world is turning right now.
I don't love plastic filling the bellies of sea mammals.
I don't love the horrible inequalities that are rife wherever I turn my eyes.
I don't love the discrimination of just about everyone who isn't a white male, and even some of them.

I love the smell of freshly cooked pasty, to go with the halloumi.
I love knowing that tomorrow there will be new sour dough loaves in my kitchen.
God willing.
I love being alive, every day is a gift.
And after all these, loves I still love halloumi.

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