The maali drops in once a week to look up the plants. Like all good gardeners, he is able to lean on a convenient tree/ balcony railing and punctuate his work with a slow discourse on sunlight, vegetable gardening and the pidgie poo menace, all the while sending a gentle shower of mud onto the carpet. In case this is beginning to sound all corduroy-covered-Lord Emsworthish, you should know that the maali works in a nursery from 6 am to 5 pm, and then makes home visits till 10 pm. Only in Mumbai moment?
Why am I composting in a nook outside the apartment?
Because... we all should? This is working out werry well. Go to Daily Dump to find your friendly neighbourhood composter. In 6 - 8 weeks, compost tea will be served. With almond macaroons.
[steps off soapbox]
Why do I try to turn all parties into board game nights?
I spend parties at home "accidentally" bringing out a box of Carcassonne, silly me, when I'd gone to get a bowl of roasted almonds. This has never worked.
Why do I picture elegant effendi waggling his wrists about whenever I hear the name Laxman?
It could be worse, I suppose. I could picture Sehwag- you beauty and his lusty blows.
Why hasn't match fixing wiped itself out?
Why doesn't anybody comment on the blob anymore?
