Australian writer of Montenegrin descent en route to a polyglot European port at the head of the Adriatic mid-2011 shipwrecks instead on the SE Asian Equator. 12, 36, 48…80, 90++ months passage out awaited. Scribble all the while. By some process stranger than fiction, a role as an interpreter of Islam develops; Buddhism & even Hinduism. (Long story.)
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Playing Ball
Turned thirteen and keen on football since the return from the U.K., the two kids have been pestering the maids every afternoon to play with them. There was no escape every afternoon at five o'clock before dinner. Both were called upon. When one tired the other took over and so it went until the kids had had enough. From the ball the women needed to immediately repair to the kitchen. The onerousness was either conveyed somehow to Sir, or else he made his own understanding, whereupon he told the children to leave the "Aunties" be as they were busy and had much to do. Weekends Sir took the kids to the Botanical Gardens for some ball play; through the week he got home late. There were two balls in the house, one kept locked up by Sir. Preparations for CNY raised the level of activity in the house too, lengthening the list of tasks. Today Rina needed to clean the kitchen cupboards before she could leave on her free day, noon before she was done. With Mame back in London Popo had taken command of the household. Sir's appeal to the children had fallen on deaf ears and the pestering of the maids continued for ball play, only finally coming to an end a few days ago when a long ball sailed up into the upper storey of the neighbouring bungalow. This bungalow remained vacant in-between leasing to orang putih — white people. No trespass was possible there. The kids would not go over themselves. Some peace for the two maids in Bukit Timah in the final run-down to the festivities.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment