I don’t have enough time to blog, these days. I mean it may still be plenty for you, dear readers of my infantile thoughts, but personally I miss the diary that was building, before, about the time here. So today wanted to correct that. To talk of SUVs and storms and bribes and tail-chasing, and all the other things that characterise my leisure, and work time here. Tonight would have been a very suitable time, a Friday all alone and the last weekend before I move away for Xmas. I cooked up some poppadoms, loaded a plate with chutneys (I am soon to leave for Britain, and certain things need using, in case there is a major power cut that leaves the fridge out of action).
And we had yet another power cut. I know I have mentioned the power cuts before, and they are more frequent in the rainy season, which has begun most emphatically in the last couple or three weeks. So I am well used to this. I sat motionless, thinking clearly, calmly. I thought slowly, confident that I would remember where the torch was, and lo, after a minute or so I remembered there was a wind up lamp on the table. Walk slowly to my left. Score. Wind the torch, no bother.
I could see again. Tidy up anything perishable into the fridge then leave it shut, as usual. Rearrange the bedroom so I can feel my way in, even if the power stays down for hours. Turn off light switches so that even if the power comes back on in the wee hours, I don't need to run around the house extinguishing them. Fine. Well drilled and not a problem. Feel my way back to the sofa where, although the wind-up torch has now gone out I know I will find it, and rewind it. I found the sofa, I picked the middle cushion of it.
If the BBC sound archive needed an effect for “grown man wearing clean shorts sits on dinner plate of home made poppadoms and lime pickle”.....
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