Rites of passage

Lerwick - north veering north-east - snow showers - good - occasionally poor. The shipping forecast was the soundtrack at breakfast with Rashimi. I gazed out of the window as he tried to pick up jewels of pomegranate from the table with pincer fingers. Granny has died, leaving her legacy of a quiet matriarchy and an empty house. And my first nephew, Fergus has arrived. Thanks to Granny, I have an excuse to go home and meet him soon. And news of the wild weather whirling around our extraordinary island helped me feel closer to the fold at that moment.

This week J and I had our first tasting of Jordanian wine at an evening arranged by Omar, a wine maker here. Sat around a long table loaded with glasses, elegantly labelled bottles and huge plates of ham and cheese, we were guided through the specific growing conditions here and the results from the vines. Some grapes we'd never heard of, like Tokai for example - described as 'young and happy', but others were familiar, although with a huge difference in temperature between night and day, some of the samples had almost as much alcohol as a whisky shot, so we slightly fell upon the plates of ham and bread to keep our heads. Only just…I'm not very good at pouring the wine back into the little bucket as it seems such a waste.

Thanks to Grace, we had a second night out this week with the most wonderful, creative and intelligent Jordanian jewellery designer, who it turns out, is a cousin of our landlords'. (We're discovering slowly that Amman is still a village). She's the best company and we ate some of the most delicious Lebanese food we've ever tasted.  We hope to see more of her and people like her, here. It was the kind of evening where you skip home late knowing the hours spent were more energy-giving than sleep could be.

Rashimi and I were alone this morning as the Lozenge had day three at nursery. We went to the Bird Garden and he had his photo taken about 5 times, then someone asked if he was 'that one off the Tellytubbies'. I cannot wait to remind him of that when he's 18. When we got home, we filled up the turtle's huge tank on the balcony with a hose and then Rashimi started whining so we went off to make some lunch. Ten minutes later, I went back to the balcony to find my phone and saw…a…flood. I'd totally forgotten about the running hose and the whole balcony was awash. This is when you need friends. Envisaging water pouring through the ceiling and down the chandeliers of the tenants below, I dialled and called 'Sayyad!!!' down the crackling phone line. And said about the only three words I know in Arabic. 'Bigproblemwater!' while I flumoxed about the flat grabbing every towel I could find. Sayyad came rustling up the stairs in his purple shell suit and when he saw the water lapping at the sliding doors to the sitting room,  bent over double with laughter and then grabbed Rashimi's tummy and said something to the tune of: 'What's your Mumma gone and done?' in Egyptian slang. He carried on laughing for another minute or so, then sloped over to and opened a hidden drain, grabbed a big squeezy mob, and within 5 minutes the floor was dry-ish and the balcony floor a lot cleaner.

The turtles were oblivious but their water level is now acceptable. And Rashimi, luckily, is still too young to tell tales.