illusions perdues

Driving Miss Russia through the town of Athy, capital of the IRA's caliphate in South Kildare.
The radio is on.
A singer called Kate Bush is crooning with strangely insistent invitation:
"Babushka, Babushka, Babushka ayaiee yai ya."
It is a sensual sexual song, I tells ee.
Presently Miss Russia is moved to speak.
"It means Granny," she says seditiously.
"What does?"
"What that woman is singing."
"No way."
"Way," said Miss Russia.
"You're telling me Kate Bush is singing Granny, Granny, Granny in that voice?"
"That is what I am telling you. It's Russian for Granny. Or sometimes it can mean a scarf. But normally it means Granny."
"Bloody hell."
We'd reached the open road out of town.
I glanced in the rear view.
No sign of pitchfork (or Kalashnikov) wielding yokels pursuing us in a pick up truck.
Always a relief.
But Granny!
All my life Kate Bush has been singing: "Granny, Granny, Granny, ayaiee yai ya," when I thought she was singing about something else entirely.
I drove on through the badlands.
A wiser, weaker man.