An Israeli court has ruled that common-law partners of the same sex may be considered spouses in terms of the inheritance law. The ruling was made by a court in Nazareth, and not in ultra-liberal Tel Aviv, which is interesting. This is a development of the "it's about time" variety, but don't expect it to be a stepping stone to the legalization of same-sex marriage. That's a looooong way off: as it is, there is no civil marriage in Israel - and there won't be as long as the religious parties, which are only becoming stronger as time passes, remain active in the Knesset and in the government.

It is not possible for two people of different faiths to marry in Israel; nor is it possible for two Jews to be married by a non-Orthodox rabbi. Couples who are of different faiths, or who wish to be married in a non-religious ceremony, often nip over to Cyprus to tie the knot. They can then register the marriage in Israel, and it is considered completely legal. I also have committed Reform and Conservative Jewish friends who were legally married in civil ceremonies in Cyprus or elsewhere in Europe (one couple got married in a gorgeous ceremony in Tuscany), then had the religious - but not legal - ceremony with a Conservative or Reform rabbi in Israel. How's that for irony? Religious Zionists who are loyal Israeli citizens, but do not identify with the Orthodox movement, cannot be married in Israel.

And speaking of couples, this evening after work I finally spoke with my photographer friend - the one who stood me up on Friday, when we were supposed to go to Ramallah for Arafat's funeral. (No, I wasn't planning to pay my respects: I was hoping to find an interesting story to write, and I was also simply curious).

So, I said to my friend, What happened to you on Friday? Why didn't you call and tell me you couldn't make it instead of leaving me hanging all day?

Um, I couldn't, he said. I was tied up in bed.

My friend has a tendency to mumble, so I thought I misheard him. Tied up in bed? I asked. What the hell does that mean? You were too tired to send me an SMS?

No, no, he said. Tied. Up. In. Bed. Literally.

It took a second before the penny dropped. I was standing in the middle of the Levinsky market in Florentine, holding a bag of vegetables in one hand and a bag of freshly baked Turkish flatbread in the other, the phone wedged between my shoulder and my ear. The narrow streets were crowded with evening shoppers, pushing for access to the barrels of goods that spilled out of the shopfronts onto to the sidewalks. In the middle of all that hubbub I yelled into the phone at my womanizing photographer friend, "You stood me up because of a FUCK?!"

The man who sold me the fresh flatbread leaned over the counter, winked and called out to me, loudly, "Sweetie, you tell him he's an idiot if he's looking at other women when he has a cutie like you around."