Other Dangers in this Place

Now let’s discuss some other dangers in this place.

We’ve got a mountain house. It is supposed to provide peace and tranquility. Of course when you need it the most you cannot get there, because 1) street fighting has made the roads out of the neighborhood too dangerous to use or 2) fighting has moved from your neighborhood to – yep, you guessed that right – the neighborhood of your mountain house.

But never mind, I’m all for peace and tranquility. There is no phone or internet, which is wonderful, the mobile only works when you stand at a specific place on the balcony and hold your phone up high (which make normal conversations rather odd), and the TV works intermittently; only then when there is electricity. Which is about almost never.
So peace and tranquility it is up there.

Except for one thing. The spiders.

We’ve got some big suckers in this place, even down here in Beirut. I once thought I saw a toad on the road, while walking to my parked car, when it was in fact – upon closer inspection – a light brown colored tarantula. My first thought was to crush it, but I was wearing flimsy sandals, and the thing was so big, it could have easily wrapped his hairy legs around both sides of my slippers, so I decided against that.

A friend of mine once had a dark one in the bathroom. She annihilated the thing, together with most of the bathroom. The next morning, while picking up a hair band from the sink for her hair, she picked up a loose leg of the tarantula instead (‘looked just like a black hair band’), causing her week-long heart palpitations.

The mountain house that we once had, on the ground floor, was sold, because I refused to go up any longer. It was an ancient house, with vaulted ceilings, and those tarantulas were hanging right above the bed. I can handle RPG’s, Israeli bombings and guerilla warfare in my street, but I will not handle tarantulas above my bed.

The new mountain house is on the third floor, and, as the real estate dealer promised; no tarantulas.
And indeed. No tarantulas.

But last weekend, after a five month absence, I found some other wild life. In the bedroom. Above the front door. In the hallway. Not tarantulas. They were of a more athletic type. Skinny and fast. Agile, almost.

After some googling I think I have narrowed them down to the ‘Mediterranean Recluse Spider’. These are even nastier suckers, because it seems they actually enjoy living with humans, and will crawl into beds, and between folded clothes in your closets. Check out these bite marks I googled! This is no laughing matter.

Some tips I picked up do not really make you feel any better.

Read this:
Bites often occur when spiders are trapped in clothing or bedding. Therefore, shake out clothing and shoes before getting dressed. Inspect bedding and towels before use. Remove bed skirts and storage boxes from underneath beds. Move the bed away from the wall. (Source)

Hubbie wants to spend the summer in the mountain house. I don’t think so. I don’t really need this. Is a person ever going to get a break in this place? I’m telling you; I’m ‘pifpaffing’ this house from top to bottom, and then some more.

Some Dutch in Beirut

No politics today. Nothing is happening anyway, apart from the continuing celebration over the dead bird and the ‘one year peace reprieve’ we have been awarded for good behavior.

And therefore, a litle promotion for the Dutch in Lebanon.

There is a two day exhibition in the Phoenix Hotel (Around the corner from the Martinez Hotel in the Ain em-Mreisseh area, near the Phoenicia).

Three ladies are exhibiting, the Dutch contingent being Karin Hantes.

She is showing a number of light fixtures, some based on a fairy tale theme (Princess on the Pea, Cinderella) but also some very wicked ones on shoes and some very cute puppets. I liked it! You’ve got to be fast though; exhibition lasts till tomorrow only! (Was rescheduled from May 9-10 to May 30-31)

How We Move Things Part 2

This is one in the category ‘How We Move Things’. I love it how the wife (husband was driving) is holding on the the bed leg on the right. As if she is keeping it in place. Or maybe just checking if it is still there. "Uh Faisal, I think we just lost the bed, I don't feel the leg anymore....'

Part I is here.

Cherry Picking

While the country was picking a president, we were picking cherries somewhere in the mountains. It’s cherry season in Lebanon.

We only picked the best cherries; that was a long process. Hence the expression cherry picking)

Cousin O in the cherry tree

The harvest

And while I am writing this, I hear shooting in the back ground.
My son asks me “Happy or angry?”
He means the shooting. From the way it sounds, it doesn’t seem to be a fire fight, nor an upset soldier shooting after a car jumps the ‘hajesh’ (military check poin.t). Probably happy.
My my, I’ve become quit the expert.

To live well in Lebanon . .

Here’s an excellent quote (which explains our happiness over nothing) that I stole off Riemer’s blog, and which originates from Jeha, the owner of this blog;

‘To live well in Lebanon, one needs to suspend belief and exercise his capacity at forgetfulness’

Dead Bird

Everybody (in my part of town) is all happy (If there is anything I learned this past week, it is that there are different parts of town.). The Hezbollah tent city down town is being dismantled, and the politicians came back from Doha, all buddy buddy, with an agreement (of nothing).

What an incompetent bunch. It is an insult to my intelligence.

I think the Lebanese – who suddenly all seem to be very happy and enthusiastic and optimistic about the future - are happy with a dead bird, but who am I to rain on their parade? This is something like a postponement of the execution. It will come; just not now, but a little later.

The grafitti is still there, but the occupiers have gone.

This was sprayed on a wall in a mountain village above Beirut some 23 years ago. It was a sign for the invading Israeli army. What it says I don't know (Someon help me out?).

But one consolation; in the end, nothing ever stays the way it is in this country. All the new grafitti, the display of guns; it won’t last. It think it was Sharon who compared Lebanon to a swamp. One you get in there, you get stuck, and there is no way you can make it out in one piece. You stick your nose into this country’s business, you’re going to get burned! It is for us just to sit it out the storm.

I bet . . .

. . . you don’t have 2,000 year old Roman columns lying around on your parking lot. You’ve got to travel all the way to Greece in order to view this type of art work. We’ve got them right here, lying around in downtown.
Of course, it is a trade off. While you live in a fairly civil society, you’ve got to travel to glimpse ancient civilizations. We on the other hand, who seem to be living among the remains of ancient societies, have to leave the country, if we want to experience some type of civilization. You can’t have the cake and eat it too, they say. So it seems.

Just Too Bizarre for Words

We’re at the beach. My son brings a friend over. It’s kind of complicated to organize play dates these days, especially if you live in a conflict zone. Nobody wants to expose their kids to any unnecessary danger, so who wants to drop their kids off at Hamra these days? Luckily, the friend also lives in a conflict zone; he’s from Sodeco, so his parents can understand that – all things considered - it is reasonably safe in the Hamra area; no worse than Sodeco, that is.
We go to the beach, which is in a ‘neutral’ zone, but the friend cannot sleep over because ‘of the situation’.

Friend: “That sucks. Now I cannot sleep out of the house anymore.”
Son: “You didn’t tell him I got a bullet next to my bedroom window, did you?”
Friend: “Dude, I got a bullet right into my bed. The window’s gone!”
Son: “My sister got one right in the window sill.”
Friend: “The house below us, they received an RPG in the living room.”

This reminds me of a conversation my daughter (then 4) had with some friends a year ago.
I sometimes wonder, what kind of conversations will they have with kids out in the real world? (Maybe this is the real world? I sure don’t hope so.) Mine is going to sail camp in Holland this summer. I doubt any of these kids have heard a gun shooting, let alone an RPG, other than on TV or on play station.
We’re going back to work on Monday, as if nothing ever happened. This only adds to the surrealistic atmosphere of Beirut. This place is just too bizarre for words.

No losers

In my neighborhood, they say they have won. They have dealt a very nasty blow to their opponents. Nasty indeed.
But as a journalist, it’s not very ethical to stay in one neighborhood only, you’ve got to hear both sides of the story. So I hang around in other neighborhoods as well.

And I was interested to hear how the people in the other neighborhood were dealing with their defeat. After all, they were dealt such a nasty blow.
But to my big surprise, the people in the other neighborhood were also of the opinion that they had won. And they were asking me how the people in my neighborhood were dealing with their defeat. Are you still with me?

It is fascinating. Five days of fighting, one-hundred-and-something dead, and no losers. Only winners.
I’m quite puzzled by this phenomenon. It reminds me of this story that keeps popping up on another one of Lebanon’s mysteries; its economy. The country’s economy – according to all indicators – should be in shambles. Yet 1 million dollar apartments are being built faster than the speed of light. Who’d still want to invest a million dollars in an apartment when only last week you had a guy with an RPG at your front door?

And so when I read that 'Hizbullah Deputy Secretary General Sheikh Naim Qassem said Thursday the group favors a settlement in Lebanon on the basis of no victor, no vanquished and announced that the party wants to "return things" to normal after the government revoked key measures that triggered six days of bloodshed.’ I am absolutely fascinated.

Nobody lost, everybody won, we’re going back to the way things were, and we’ll agree that nobody won and nobody lost. Oh, and sorry about the dead, the damage and the delusion.

Well, how about some diversion that does make sense? I suggest you watch this very nice short movie on the Beirut Luna Park (10 minutes), made by two Dutch film makers; Anoek Steketee and Eefje Blankvoort.

The dialogue is either in Arabic and translated, or English. I stumbed upon it by accident, and I thought it very cute. If you are a genuine (West) Beiruti, I am sure you can relate to it. Good to watch in times like these.

Something that made me laugh: "There should be rules about what militia members can and cannot wear if they want to be taken seriously". (Source)

And the Good News is . . . . .

Some uplifting news. A little bit. Maybe.

I spent the afternoon on the beach to conduct several interviews for a story on the divide between the shia and sunni of Beirut. Let me rephrase that, since this might give you the impression that I am not hard-working career woman.

How about ‘amidst rising tensions, as more clashes erupted in war-torn Beirut between sunni and shia, I conducted a number of interviews at an undisclosed location in order to ensure the safety of the participants.'

Muuuuuuuch better. Just joking. I did work. Really.

Two sunni (left) and two shia (right) on the beach in Beirut.
Moral of this picture; Don't believe everything you read in the paper.

Well, all is not lost. Because both sides agree on one things; the civil war has not yet started.
And it will not start, because they do not want to fight each other.
However, if the other side does not back down soon, then they are left with no other other choice but to defend themselves.’
Yes. I think that is how they explained the current situation to me. Both sides. I think I got that part right.

Well, at least we agree on something. It is a beginning, no?

The First Casualty

New stencil graffiti on Hamra

On a regular day in my house, by 8 o’clock, it is empty. The family members have left to either work or school, and all that remains in the house is the housekeeper and the large menagerie of animals.
Now that schools and most businesses are closed in this part of town, we hang around the house, watch the news, surf the web, raid the fridge, interfere with the housekeeper’s routine and get otherwise bored.

And so, while drinking coffee, my daughter comes in and reports:
“One of my fishes is floating!”
Drama.

Of the original school of 14 fish in her aquarium, two – under the watchful eye of my daughter - have religiously clung to life for the past two years.

We go check it out. And indeed. One seems to be floating.
‘Aha’, I am thinking, ‘that’s why I only saw one this morning, when I fed them.’

Hubbie, attracted by my daughter’s piercing sounds of sorrow, passes by.
“I was already wondering when I fed them this morning, where the other one went,” he remarks.

Son, hearing the commotion, drags himself out of his bed and drops by.
“He was still alive last night when I fed them,” he says.

The housekeeper, standing next to us, shrieks: “You’ve all been feeding them! They are supposed to be fed only once every three days! No wonder he’s dead.”

And she continues her work, leaving us standing next to the aquarium, looking guilty.
My daughter looks at us, and says accusingly, “So it’s you who killed my fish!”

Ouch.

That’s what you get when you hang around the house all day. We're usually too busy to worry about the fish.

They say that in a war the first casualty is the truth. In our household it was the fish.

Back Lash

My editor mails me.
Whether things have calmed down a bit, she asks.

Well yes, they have. For the moment. But the simmering continues, and it is under the surface now, so much more dangerous. The pressure builds up, and soon enough we’ll have another explosion.
Slowly news from the neighborhood trickles in. The baker and his son (16) got shot last Friday morning. Son died, baker in the hospital. So-and-so died, this one is in the hospital, that one got kidnapped.

There is an enormous amount of anger in this part of town (West-Beirut that is). Downright hate. People feel sold-out. Violated.

So the resistance has turned into Syria’s henchmen, they say. Well, they always knew that, but not to this extent.
It is clear by now that not all the gunmen have evacuated the premises. They are still around. Not on the street corners, but on the first floor apartments.

I tell you, this is definitely not healthy for the inter-confessional relations in this place. It is going to have a backlash for shia living in this part of town, and it shouldn’t, because they are us, and we are them. But people are so upset, they’re not thinking straight (they were never very good at that anyway).
The hate is incredible. Coming from educated people. People that recycle their cans and glass bottles. People that believe in live and let live. People that walk the 3 blocks to their friends’ house because they say it is bad for the environment to use the car. Pure hate. Unbelievable, no? No.

I tell you how my anger welled up this afternoon when I found out that I have a bullet hole in my balcony railing (okay, I’ll forgive ‘m that one), but also one in the window sill of my daughter’s bedroom.

It ricocheted off, because the window is intact. One inch higher, and it would have been at her face height. Son of a bitch!
I’m going to have to be careful not to lose my objectivity, I am thinking.

I don’t know about the mood in the mountains, haven’t gotten that far yet, but I did get to the east.
“You’re turn is next,” I tell a friend.
‘You think we’re going to let them come in the way they came into West-Beirut and the mountains?” he replies. “No way.”
I don’t know. These guys are pretty well prepared.

The Jordanians have already started getting their people out. So have the Emirates. Now if other Arab nations are starting to evacuate, shouldn’t that tell you something?

Staff meeting today at work. Very somber mood. They’re not saying to get up and leave, they’re just saying to get ready and be prepared to get up and leave. Just in case.

Shit. Just when things were getting nice.

All Is Not Quiet in the West

For those on the outside, who would like to hear what it was like from my house; this clip was taken Thursday night (sorry, it was dark), and this was filmed Friday morning (click on picture). For the right effect, put your speakers on volume 10.

All is not quiet on the Western front. I thought I heard some heavy duds earlier this afternoon. Sounded like heavy bombing, but then I figured my imagination was running wild after the past few days. Now I hear there is bombing in the Chouf mountains. Must be some heavy stuff. We'll see what this brings. Nothing good, I presume.

On a lighter note (for those in Beirut):
In case you were wondering where all that food went (the milk and such), while you were at the supermarket last Thursday; it is here, in my house.

Sorry about that.

We're Going to Have to Do Lots of Smiling

I am usually quite an optimistic person. But two things just happened this morning that make me wonder if I am being a little naïve. And so some pessimism from me today.

Incident #1
I’m hanging over my balcony, watching two armed men walking down the opposite street. They pass a parked car with a poster of Hariri behind the window.

They look at it.

And then they break the window with their rifle butts.
They walk on. They don't even look around to see whether someone has seen them.

Why should they?

They rule the streets.

Here’s your democracy, Hezbollah style; Thug rule.

Incident #2
I had to pick up something in Ouzai, a neighborhood next to the southern suburbs. I get stopped at a checkpoint under the Ouzai overpass by four kids. Kids, yes. You read that right. Between 8 and 14 years old. Kids.

“You cannot go on, this road is blocked,” the 14 year old tells me.
A measly little plastic garden chair stands between me and Ouzai.
“Remove the chair, will you please, I need to pick up something in Ouzai,” I ask him
“I tell you, the road is blocked.”
“No, the road is not blocked. There is garden chair on the road. Be so kind as to move the chair.”
The road is blocked.”

I cannot believe I am arguing with a kid.

"Get your boss, please.”
“I am the boss.”
“No, you are a kid. Get your boss please.”
“I am a kid?!” he replies with his voice rising with indignation. “You wanna see?” as he inflates his little chest.
Sigh.
You know, let’s not.
It takes a man to suffer ignorance and smile, Sting once wrote. And so I smile.
The rule of fear and intimidation has arrived.

In case you are making yourself any illusions, you can stop wondering now. We’re going to have to do lots of smiling the coming days.

Brace yourself.

Support Free Speech

Source here.

The Day After

My aplogees for the corny title. Couldn't think of anything more appropriate. After last night’s short but intensive thunderstorm, it is a gorgeous day in West-Beirut today. A little hazy, due to a fire raging in one of the TV studios of Hariri in the neighborhood. There is still sporadic gunfire. But nevertheless, considering the circumstances, a gorgeous day. I say!

I went out today, walked over the neighborhood with a friend who is trying to deal with some very frightened American business partners who just happened to get stuck in the middle of it all. Some people just don’t ever get any action in their lives, and then they get it full-force.

There doesn’t seem to be extensive damage, mostly broken windows.

And cut phone lines.

Hamra is teeming with militia men however, armed to the teeth. I couldn’t quite see from what militia they were, but was told that Amal, Hezbollah and the Awmiyeh (sorry, phonetic spelling, Syrian Socialistic National Party) were on the ground. Of course, don’t let these names fool you. Socialistic Party, right! No socialism in this town, it’s all hard-core capitalism or islamic dictatorship. Well, there may be 'some' shades of grey in between.

I wasn’t allowed to take any pictures of them. They take their orders very seriously, and are in no way charmed by the attention of some blond ladies in semi-advanced stage.
The soldiers of the army however, fell like rock for our smiles, and we were invited at every single group of soldiers to join them in their lunch.

And so, because Liesbeth missed lunch the other day, she couldn’t pass this one up.

'The New Kid in Town'

Some of the militias had very fancy metal ammo boxes with a leather strap. Would make a fantastic fashion accessory. The gentleman in question however, was not willing to part with it. “Still some ammo in it,” he said.

‘Well, then, shoot it, young man,” I was thinking.
Better not said; after a battle a sense of humor –which they are sorely lacking anyway - may be a little far fetched.

I saw some new spraying. It is clear who is in charge of this part of the neighborhood now (this one is the logo of the SNNP, the Syrian Socialistic National Party). And so we have gone back to the days of one militia per neighborhood. How long this will last, I don’t know.

I hear from Dutchies in other parts of Beirut that things are ‘absolutely normal’ there. So it is just us who are the lucky ones. There’s quite a bit of a Dutch contingent here in the Hamra neighborhood, where most of the fighting of last night took place. But I must say; we’re chillin’!

It is still uncertain what tonight will bring. More fighting? Or a deal? Doesn’t look like the government is in the position to broker a deal. Maybe just a ‘Yes Sir!”

Didn't Get Much Sleep Last Night

I did not get much sleep last night. I’m up pretty high in the building, so you might think that’s safe, but above me is a hill, and the road coming down from that hill is pretty much at the same level as my bedroom. Maybe a little higher. And although they wouldn’t have any reason in particular to aim at my bedroom window (windows are all the way to the floor), I won’t hold it against them that they probably had very little training with RPG’s.

There was heavy fighting from 10:00 to 2:00 An immense thunderstorm then emptied its rage right above this city part, and sent them all home. Divine intervention. maybe? :)

Unfortunately, at 7 o’clock sharp they were back at it again. As I write this (8:40 A.M. Beirut time), there's heavy shooting in all the streets around me. M16’s, RPG’s and B7’s. A Dutch friend, living next door, used to live in Gaza. She’s more used to the F16 bombs. Infinitely louder of course, but "at least they’d stop after a while. This morning I thought at 7, ‘this is enough.”

It seems Hezbollah is taking over neighborhood after neighborhood. Once they are in charge, the army takes over, moves in, and then the fighting is over. Hamra seems one of the last neighborhoods still ‘resisting the resistance’.

I’m trying to upload an audio clip of last nights shooting, but cannot get it to work. Maybe later.

Jeha's got a good map of the fighting .

Sounds Like War

I was planning on going out tonight, but it seems I have to amend my plans. There’s shooting in several parts of the neighborhood around me. Most of it is just gun fire, M-16 and the likes, but they are shooting also with other stuff as well, heavier material. No idea what that is, maybe I should update my knowledge about guns and ammo and the likes. Might come in handy these days.

No dinner on the balcony either. What goes up, must - after all – come down as well.

A friend is calling me from two blocks away. She was thinking of walking over to my place, but she just called to say that – since there are armed men under her building – she is changing her plans as well. She’ll stay home instead.

My father in-law calls and aks whether we have a shelter in the building. Yes we do, but I am not giong to sit there. My son calls, he’s at the neighbors, and says they’re all huddling in the corridor. I'm not going to do that either. Instead, I think I will paint a room.

It seems everyone will be having to change their plans these coming days. Sounds like war right now.

Stocking Up (again)

In retrospect, going to the supermarket today may not have been such a wise decision. I was standing in line for half an hour and the check-out register wasn’t even in sight yet. The line up started all the way in the shampoo section!
I had been warned by friends about the ‘supermarket scene’ but did not take it seriously. I mean, how many people would actually go to the supermarket now? They always make a big story out of nothing. And so I stood, patiently, for 55 minutes in line at the supermarket. This must be my personal record.

I know that people – in anticipation of the worst to come – take their precautions, but I have a hard time taking this serious. But when you walk around the supermarket, and see that the milk section is empty, all the lentils, chick peas and dried beans have gone, that the bread is off the shelves, the flour has finished and the cooking oil is running low, you get a little worried. People were leaving the supermarket with double loads (two full carts). Did I miss some important news? Did some politician say something that I wasn’t aware of?

There is no curfew. Yet. I hear (from a friend) that the druze are all packing up and moving to the mountains. Hmmm. Well, maybe they know something.

Let’s not forget that there is a good side to it all. No traffic jams. And maybe now is a good time to gnaw my way through the immense stock of lentils and cans of sardines that hubbie has been stocking up on since the war of 2006.
And so in retrospect, always look at the bright side.

That Sums It All Up

No need to write anything, when it has all been written already.

Every schmuck that was on TV today (except for the army) is garbage in my opinion, yes, garbage. A pest in our society. A puny third class impotent. Whether Sunni, Shiite, or even a Christian.Tfeh… How ashamed I am to be Lebanese.
The Lebanese Inner Circle

Beirut, I apologize on behalf all of them.
Posh Lemon

Today I would like to join Tantalus in saying FUCK YOU to each and everyone involved in today’s incidents in Beirut. And to those who launched RPGs I say FUCK YOU twice, since you made additional effort in fucking up the day.
Also FUCK those who try to pretend they’re angels, while we know very well that it takes AT LEAST 2 to start a fight, so it’s quite obvious that 8 March and 14 March are both assholes.
+961

I have refused to pay attention to the madness in Beirut's streets. The actions of misbehaving brigands misbehaving requires no analysis or explanation.
Lebanese Political Journal

Mafias and Militia Idiots
MarxistFromLebanon

Of course, as is usual in Lebanon, what started as a strike over living conditions then became riots in certain areas, with teenage boys burning cars, tyres (and I think I even saw a carpet on TV), looking for fights and egging on riot police.
Gutter Poetry Arab Sphere

All the country seems to care about are the hand-full of politicians instead of the people of Lebanon.Such a shame…
Rampurple

But it does not really matter who starts what and where, because what is happening is the result of the sectarian build up, practiced by politicians of all sides over the past three years.
Land and People

Working Conditions

Safety on the work floor is not really one of the priorities here in Lebanon. Working conditions in certain professions, such as construction for instance, or window cleaners, are sometimes a little precarious, to say the least. No hard hats, no ear protection for loud noises, no caps for toxic fumes or spray paint, and no safety lines. Are you kidding? Real men don’t use safety lines, har har.

So yesterday I walked past this apartment block, and saw this guy washing the windows on the fourth floor. He was standing in the planter. If he loses his balances, I was thinking, he cannot even hold on the something. I can just imagine his fingers trying to claw into the smooth glass. That’s at least 10 meters (c. 30 feet) high)

Or how about this guy? Standing on a ladder, which is standing on some assembled wooden beams, which are laying loosely on two iron bars some 38 meters (120 ft) above the ground.

Well, you wouldn’t really need a hard hat anymore, now would you?

The Invasion of the Crocs

Going to the beach today was a good decision. And I noticed that in the battle between the Israelies and the Crocs, the Crocs have won, complete with Jibbitzes. It's an invasion that is unstoppable.

And the article on the Palestinians can be read here.

Day Off

I think I'll lie on the beach today.

Queen's Day in Beirut

It was Queen’s Day for the Dutch in Lebanon. Queen’s Day (April 30th) is when the Dutch Queen, Beatrix, celebrates her birthday. It isn’t really her birthday, but a ‘kniesoor die daar op let’, as we say in Holland.And as this is a blog from a Dutchie in Beirut, you must bear with me. Liesbeth showed up too late for the picture, of course.
I would like you to focus especially on the ‘glamorous Anne’ who always double checks the pictures I make of her to make sure she’s presentable enough for the public. Well, I can tell ya, nothing glamorous about a mom. (She’s going to shoot me for this one).

'Ze Incorrigible Anne'

‘Ze Incorrigible Anne’ and her band played a Gemayze crowd Thursday night. Good crowd (especially the Dutch Supporters Section), good music, good vibes. The drinks sucked though. Doesn’t anyone know anymore how to make a decent Marguerita?

The Dutch supporters sections (no, that is not me).And that is 'The Incorrigible Anne' afterwards.