A golden final stanza

The Lozenge's little orange school bus makes a tinny whirring sound which is how we know when it has drawn up outside the house at around 1pm, and I often find myself sprinting downstairs to go and meet him. The first week at school seems to have gone really well, and he confided the other day: 'I had weeeeal fun at my nurthery today.' But I still had to bribe him out of bed a couple of mornings with a 'croithant' - the Lozenge's favourite morsel, as a 7.30am departure still feels quite early.

Now Rashimi has the Glammy to himself in the mornings, and I made the use of her Arabic skills to go and visit the Syrian women and children I made the films about for UNICEF. They were pleased to see us as I don't think anyone drops in to see them, and life in the echoey apart-hotel with filthy stairwells and a broken lift, must be very bleak at times. Although the Syrians are only from the next door country - this will never feel like home for the older ones. Rashimi seemed fairly happy to be with them, and probably understood more of the Arabic than I did. Some good news is that there was also an orange bus parked out the front of their building and many of the children have started to attend school this September. The Jordanian government and UNICEF have been working hard to instigate this, so I felt happy to see it in practise.

The boys have been very excited to have two beautiful and glamourous 19 year olds to stay as they embark on travels around Jordan. Rashimi wailed as they left for Aqaba this morning - stretching a chubby brown arm towards the retreating blonde back views. He is not called niswanji (womaniser) for nothing. He does just love girls. And blonde ones are a particular highlight in these parts.

We're preparing to go on a weekend to Jerusalem, and this time we're taking the Glammy, in the hope she will like it, and will want to come and live there with us for at least a few months from next January. To have her with us when we move would make for some precious continuity. But whatever she decides, we'll understand. And if only everyone from here would come with us. It feels like we have a tiny community forming, and it's sad that it's temporary.

Sayyad and the dwarves

I was moved to hear that Seamus Heaney died this week, and to hear the text message he sent to his wife, in the last few minutes of his life. Nolle timere: Don't be afraid. I've always considered that fear is at the bottom of the most negative of human emotions and behaviour, and I don't feel there could be a more fitting last stanza for a poet to publish in these times.