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?
4 comments:
We would if it stopped appearing that we wrote more often on your blog than you did...
Well that's one mystery solved, at any rate!
Completely agree with D. You should write more often. Love reading your blog.
Life of..- And there you go. I have blobbed again.
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