A series of unfinished posts lying around my drafts folder like half eaten sandwiches can't move me tonight.
Not even the tub of chocolate just outside of arm's length will move me.
Nor will the bottle of (local of course) white wine in the fridge.
Partly because opening bottles of wine has become a most tedious chore often involving the input and physical assistance of every individual within a five metre radius plus a range of unlikely household utensils.
"Have you tried the blunt edge of a can opener? That's what we use."
"You need to drive something sharp through the cork to release some pressure."
"Ok, you hold on to the neck of the bottle to keep it steady and I'll jump up and down to push all of my weight onto the knife in an effort to drive it down."
"Have they been filling the bottles with more wine? It's almost like it's harder to push the cork in these days."
"Shit shit shit I've broken the cork."
"Ah it's ok, we'll scoop what we can out and just drink the rest."
"Damn... bleeding... no no I'm on it - just give me a tissue. I'll get it this time, I could have sworn I felt the cork move a little."
"See you always make this mistake. You have to do it from a particular angle."
"How have we been here eight months and still not managed to buy a corkscrew?"
"There ARE no corkscrews in Nablus."
Everyone goes back to their seats and the evening continues