That kind of night to go with that kind of day, that kind of week, that kind of fortnight...

People keep asking how we're doing and I'm not really sure how to answer that, but ever since that first long Shabbat of the war in and out but mostly in our home shelter, versions of this song have been going through my head each time the siren goes.

While we are grateful our home has a shelter and we don't have a mad dash in our PJs to a public shelter, it is also a rather small shoebox sized shelter.

Fitting seven of us (and sometimes eight or nine) inside requires advanced Tetris skills as we call out Waltonesque style to check that everyone is inside and we can shut the heavy blast door as the siren wails outside.

Even within the thick concrete walls you can clearly hear the booms of interceptions and explosions, often from a considerable distance.

We can usually arrange ourselves in a way that allows us all to sit down more or less comfortably. It is not a place where one would ever consider dancing the Hokey Cokey or anything else. But one does most definitely need to stretch and shake it out after squishing together within its confines.

You take the whole family in

The whole family out

In

Out

Shake yourselves all about

You listen to Pikud Haoref

And you turn around

That's what it's all about

Oh Iranian missiles

Oh Hizballah missiles

Oh Hizballah drones

Knees bend

Arms stretch

Arghhh arghhh arghhh Because even when it feels like we live on a rollercoaster built over an active volcano, sometimes you just have to laugh. This has become our shelter song. Along with a great many Psalms.