Three Kids and a Kettle

The Feast, from the window

Feast of St. Janyl. Every year I say: this year I will go up in the morning and stand properly. And every year the lane in front of our house becomes a river of people from five o'clock, with pilgrims asking where the cathedral is (it is above you, madam), and I stay at home with two children and the soup.

The big thing: our neighbour Erkin has all three rooms full again, with a Polish group, and they ate breakfast in the courtyard at six and sang something. I could not understand a word. It was beautiful. Aruuke woke up and sang back.

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