Tiptoeing through tulips towards love, perhaps?
Hello Folks, thanks for dropping by. Now, I loved my Dad, who died in 2008 aged 73. Too soon, too young. He taught me to play Backgammon when I was only 3 or 4, helping me understand the rules and vagaries of chance with every roll of the dice. The year he died, I’d sit up late at night playing Backgammon with myself, all the house lights blazing, while a depressive fog of grief and loss rolled over me for months. One of our other favourite games, when I was similarly small, was a song we’d sing while I stood barefoot on his feet, my nose to his belly, as he high-stepped round the room, holding my hands tight. “Tiptoe, through the tulips, through the tulips, that’s the way we’ll go, We’ll tiptoe, through the tulips, Today… “ I’ve no idea the provenance of this rhyme, or what else it may say? Perhaps I’m even recalling it wrong? But we giggled and stomped, getting faster and faster, as I tried not to fall off! Such …
