Thanks for small animals

Today the rain was heavy. My student S and I got caught in it. Somewhere along the way I bought a newspaper and lost it. I went to the dentist with S, at his request..He is considering implants but the shock of the projected cost almost made him fall out of the chair. We went to the library to regroup, but he remained stunned and would occasionally bring up the topic throughout the rest of the day. I'm not sure that I'm the right person to drag along, because I know nothing about implants. 

We went a pub for lunch because the Thai stall was not in the market. S says he feels uncomfortable eating in restaurants because of the cutlery. At home in Afghanistan he would have eaten with his hands, but in the student dorms, those who did do were mocked. I ate some of his salad with my hands and he had some of my very crispy chips. Neither of us was brave enough to risk eating a fried egg with bare hands. 

We went back to his flat and did a lesson. He has got some translating work with a human rights charity, and is also studying for GCSE English. There was only one part of his translation I didn't understand, and that is culturally specific. Instead of death by firing squad, some 'offensive' people are lined up against a wall, which is then made to collapse on them. I know of no word to describe such a practice. I'm not so much horrified as stunned. S's job will be to translate statements from people considered abhorrent to the current regime in Afghanistan, to help them to be accepted by other countries as refugees or asylum seekers..Meanwhile in the UK, we have Suella Braverman, who now plans to abolish tents for homeless people. 

When I got home, I was exhausted after my busy week, and annoyed that I'd lost my newspaper. I went to bed and slept for a bit. Then the fireworks woke me. Even Indie got startled by the loudest bangs. She is our second Bombay cat and neither of them were/are particularly bothered by fireworks, though Indie hates crackling-plastic sounds and the hairdryer. Bomble was frightened by pretty much every sound in the beginning, but ended up being deaf. Bombays have huge bat-like ears with tufts growing out of them. 

Bizarrely, there were Halloween decorations in the dentist's waiting room today, and S asked me the name for a bat. I told him about the dentist in Oban in the '70s, accused of murdering another dentist in a case involving adultery. The first dentist alleged that mixing mercury paste fillings in his hands had made him take temporary leave of his senses (surely we all chased blobs of mercury along the lab benches with our fingers in the 1970s?)  If this story involving dentists turns out to be misremembered, I'm sure my sister TML will supply the true facts. Our dentist in Oban at that time, Mrs U.P, had wallpaper on her ceiling. That's mostly what I recall of dentists in Argyll Square at that time. 

Anyway, this Emergency  blip poem is mainly because indie keeps me such excellent company, and because while shopping today I had a sudden pang when I saw a book about Christmas baking with children and realized that, oh no...

I'm sure that I could find some children to make gingerbread characters with this Christmas, if the feeling persists.