I don’t have TV but sometimes see it as some people generously place theirs in the street. The local weather must be produced by ex-LSD-addicts for I have never seen so many bright flashing lights and swirling images masquerading as meteorology. Mind-bending. The hard drugs reference is an even bigger joke as drugs and alcohol usage are grounds for long-term imprisonment with a few side-dishes of violent flogging thrown in to get the message across.
My man who insists on helping me at the Apollo superette is increasing his English at the fiery rate of: Two words per week. The latest acquisitions are chicken and deep. He insists I get the chicken at the very bottom of the freezer, which requires no small amount of feverish excavation, (Sherpa Tenzing Norgay anyone?), regardless of innocent bystanders at risk of concussion by assorted frozen grocery and speeding ice fragments.
About to leave for school I decide to get something from my room. That is when I find my keys are in the room as the door is self-locking. The only way out and to keep the front-door locked is to exit via the balcony, á la Raffles, the gentleman cat burglar. This is quite dangerous and a small crowd gathers, including a building supervisor. He maintains it is impossible to lock myself out that way. Continue on to school where Saeed (Admin Manager) and Mohamed Ali (my mover) also insist this scenario is impossible. I act out the event several times until they get it. The reason they are so keen to disbelieve my story is that there is no spare key to my room. They give me a flat key and a huge bouquet of thirty miscellaneous keys to try. I am hopeful I can pull off a Uri Geller by finding one that works! And, crikey, dick, one does open my bedroom.
About to get the dhoni back to Malè, several people disembark carrying a very tall tree complete with a mass of roots that could easily stuff a Mini.
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