Category Archives: An autobiography

Aug8

Post 119. The Cross, The Crook and The Crown

Posted on August 8, 2013 by lindia60

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The Cross, the Crook and the Crown

The Cross:

In the desert of my own choosing

I find a banquet laid out for me

In my wandering, thirst and hunger

I chance upon a strange tree.

A tree without branches, without fruit, without leaves

Yet the shade and the comfort is more than I need

I sit and I wonder with my head on my knees

How my heart can be so happy

Beneath such a strange and stark tree.

Something like liquid pours over my head

My thirst is quenched and my soul is fed

I have done nothing, only wandered and failed

Yet this tree has provided such comforting shade.

The Crook:

In the valley of confusion

I walked around and around

Shoulders bent and dragging feet

The path could not be found

With breaking heart and empty soul

I hated every step

Every rock and every scene

My life was totally spent

Through the mist of sin and shame

A rod and staff appeared

And then a man, a shepherd man

With a band around his head

He extended his rod and I fell to the ground

Then with the staff He lifted me up

He gently lifted me around His neck

Out of the dirt and muck

“This is going to be hard,” He said

And I said, “That’s ok.

You can break my legs

Or do what you will,

As long as I find my way.”

The Crown:

On the mountaintop of life

When all was going well

I thought I was the best

My fame was soon to tell

With my head held high in the air

And my heart pumped up with pride

I came across a crown

Just lying on the side

Its jewels were just amazing

I could hardly stand the light

My eyes were almost blinded

The brightness was so bright

What I saw, I wanted

I wanted it for me

I wanted it so badly

For everyone to see

As my hand reached out to touch the crown

Lying on the ground

It turned to blood and thorns and pain

My heart began to pound

The owner of both crowns came by

And offered them to me

“Which one do you want the most?

Neither one comes free.”

The thorny one was ugly

So dull, so brown, so cheap

How could I possibly wear this one?

The humiliation would be deep.

But the gold one, yes

That would be fine

That would be just great

It fits me and it looks so good

Hey, this must be my fate.

The owner of both crowns

Looked down, at my expectant head

”Oh, you want the costly one,

The one that fits your head?

Come, let’s try and see

The truth of what you’ve said.”

As His hands came down,

The golden crown, was held above my head

And then it changed to the ugly one

And with that the owner said,

“Greatness is the thing you want

And the glory and the gold

But these things will come to you

When the other crown you hold.

Without the thorns, the pain, the blood

The glory cannot be

That is why at this point in time

Both crowns will stay with me

It is clear that death is not for you

So where you are just pray

That you will see the thorny crown

As my only, perfect way.”

This was from a dream/visiony thing I had. I woke up and wrote it down just as I had seen/heard it. Written in a poetical season of my life. First and last rhymie one.

Aug7

Post 118. Lunch on the mountain road

Posted on August 7, 2013 by lindia60

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Some called it the road from hell. There was definitely something demonic about it, especially for those who suffered with chronic car sickness. For those who didn’t, it was an amazing mountain drive.

Some got sick on the way up, others on the way down. Some, both up and down.

There were those who insisted on keeping their windows down for fresh air. That also helped when the driver refused to stop for any reason. It didn’t help when you were driving past a dead carcass.

Others swore blind that keeping their heads dead straight and their eyes on the road helped. They lost it when the road disappeared around a hairpin bend. There were over a hundred hairpin bends.

The theories were amazing. Some kept chewing gum, some sucked on nimbus (sweet limes) others thought mints helped. Those who didn’t believe in sucking anything became compulsive swallowers.

People on tour buses seemed to believe that the more they ate before going either way, up or down, the less sick they would feel. They only believed that once. It was an experience they never wanted to repeat.

For us, we tried to eat as little as possible. On our way down we usually left in the early hours of the morning so there wasn’t time for breakfast. I seemed to need a banana quite soon after getting through the foothills. If I was sitting in the front looking straight ahead, it seemed to help a bit but with two small children in the back seat it wasn’t possible to not look around.

On the way home from Delhi we would stop half way and have lunch at Cheetal Grand. It was a small dhaba where we had delicious pakodas and sweet, milky instant coffee. By the time we got to the Shivalik range, the food had settled nicely. We tried everything. Fortunately there wasn’t much actual throwing up but there was lots of queeze and swallowing.

Our almost joint-family-car-sick-experience was when we were driving up the mountain after a long trip. We were tired and Tony was overtaking anything in front of him. That happened whether we were tired or not, but that is beside the point. There was a lot of swerving and speed involved. The more I complained the faster he went. We had all had enough.

A local tour bus was really irritating us. It was going quite fast and wouldn’t let us pass. The name of the tour company was “Panicker’s Travels.” We kept getting stuck behind it on the bends and I was making up stories about how it might have got its name. As we got to a straight bit, Tony put his foot down and started to overtake it. As he did, a woman put her head out of the bus window and threw up all over our windscreen. We all started screaming things like, “Oh Lord! How disgusting! Aaaah!” and other exclamations I have chosen to forget. Tony was the only one who didn’t have his hands over his face. We were all gagging.

Tony couldn’t see properly, but managed to overtake the bus. With all the noise and commotion, he did what anyone in their panicking mind would do to get rid of the mess. He turned the wipers on. He found out a second later that the water pump to clean the windscreen was empty. We drove all the way home with someone else’s lunch smudged all over our windscreen.

Someone started giggling; a gagging kind of giggle. Then someone joined in and then we all started laughing hysterically. By the time we got home, all the tension of the trip had gone but for some reason we all felt the need to have a soapy bucket bath.

Aug6

Post 117. Boys and ladybugs

Posted on August 6, 2013 by lindia60

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The girls were squealing so loud we had to ask them to tone it down. We were on the road to our house and they knew it was just around the corner. They couldn’t wait to see everyone again. They had missed Sarita and Angie and their puppy Sasha. As we turned around the tight bend above our house they couldn’t contain themselves. They were bouncing up and down and screaming. We were all so happy to be home. It had been a long, amazing trip in South Africa but we were ready to get back to our house.

We had given out a lot. There was a lot of talking and answering the same questions over and over, which was exhausting. At the same time, we were glad people were interested in our lives in India. I found myself getting peopled out quite quickly and a bit overwhelmed with the intensity of all the meetings. I also struggled with the whiteness of it all. We were used to being the minority. I missed the faces of our Mussoorie friends. Our lives there were simple. There were times when I felt quite brain dead for lack of stimulating English conversation but when we were in it, it was all too much for me. We arrived home needing a holiday. We caught up with people and had a month to settled back in.

While we were in South Africa there were lots of people who said they wanted to visit us. Some came for a week, others for a few months and others for a few years. Dudley and Margi Reed came for a couple of weeks and were such an encouragement to us. Graham and Kay Jones arrived with their little boys, Seth and Caleb and moved into the flat downstairs. They were going to stay for a long time and we were so happy to have their company. The boys were almost the same age as Asha and Zoe and they got on really well. Except for one thing.

The girls loved ladybugs. They were their friends and pets. They collected them and talked to them. If they had been able to find clothes for them they would have dressed them. One day they came from the roof screaming hysterically. When they calmed down enough to talk they told me, “Seth and Caleb are frying ladybugs! They won’t stop!” They were so distressed. I went up to the roof to see what was going on. The boys had poked splinters through the ladybugs and made their own little fire to fry them on. They had no idea what all the fuss was about.

The boys also taught the girls how to enjoy scrambling around the hillside. Before they arrived Asha and Zoe only played on the roof and the rock. Seth and Caleb got them clambering through the bush, down to the bottom road and all over the cud. They became quite adventurous. There were lots of sleepovers and dress-ups and we were in and out of each other’s houses all the time.

Louise Bulley, Dudley Daniel, Lee and Anne Cowles, Dalton and Tracey Gibbs, Don and Andrew Cook, Rob and Glenda, Terry and Linda Fouche, The McKellars, Chris and Meryl, Gill Coetzee, a team from Waverley and Tony’s sister Jan and her husband Allan were among the many visitors we had.

Each had their own India stories to tell but they all had one story in common; the road trip from Dehra Dun to Mussoorie. It was something they would never forget.

Aug5

Post 116. Spooked out

Posted on August 5, 2013 by lindia60

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We made our way down the South Coast to Southbroom to spend a week in Rig and Sue’s cottage. It had been a long time since we had seen the ocean. We were going to drive straight back to Johannesburg from there.

We settled in and read the “Rules of the House.” It was fine until we got to the “night routine”. The security system had to be switched on (very complicated for Indians) and the security gate between the bedrooms and the living area had to be locked. Before that, we had to put glasses on curtains, on the windowsills. If a burglar put his hand in he would push the curtain and the glasses would shatter and wake us up. The whole thing freaked us out. We weren’t used to it and really didn’t sleep well.

We couldn’t wait to see the light of day. The days were relaxing. There was a lady to help us with cooking and cleaning. We felt so spoilt. Different friends came from Durban to spend time with us and that was special. Terry and Linda Fouche visited the day before we left. They came in the afternoon and stayed for dinner. Tony and I felt so uneasy that whole evening. We had a feeling someone was watching us from outside.

Terry and Linda left late and we did some last minute packing. Tony was going to pack the car so we could leave early the next day, but changed his mind. We quickly did the security routine and climbed into bed. The girls were in their own room, oblivious and dreaming sweet dreams. We lay there for quite a while feeling really spooked out. We prayed for protection and tried to sleep. A few minutes later we heard a sound like ice cracking. We had turned the fridge off to defrost it and agreed it was ice melting in the freezer. There was no way either of us was going to check.

When we were kids we were taught about burglars. “If you hear anything in the night, or see anyone in your room, pretend you’re sleeping and let them take whatever they want. Don’t move, don’t scream, and don’t try to take them on.” When we lived in Johannesburg we got used to the “Driving at Night” safety rules. “Don’t stop at red lights in an isolated area, keep your doors locked, don’t look into the face of your attackers, give them the keys and anything else you have and don’t try to take them on.” Those things were clear. Something deep inside, told me that if I was ever under attack, there was no way I would stick to those rules. Adrenalin makes one do strange things.

It was pitch dark and we lay there dead still, waiting for something horrible to happen. When it didn’t, we managed to get a few hours of fitful sleep. We couldn’t wait to see the sun.

It was really early when Tony unlocked the security gate and went to the living room to turn the alarm off. He looked out at the carport and our car was gone. Terry and Leonie’s car was gone. Lying just to the right, on the ground, was shattered glass from the car window. There were tyre marks down the driveway.

Tony came into the room as white as a sheet and with tears in his eyes. When he told me, I started crying. We didn’t know what to do. Southbroom wasn’t just down the road. It was down the coast. Our friend’s car had been stolen. One thing we were thankful for was that we hadn’t chosen to use their BMW. We weren’t sure how that would have been worse, but it made us feel just a little bit better.

We pulled ourselves together and called Terry. When he heard how upset Tony was, he laughed. It was as if that kind of thing happened to him every day. He was amazing. Wilf and Val came to pick us up to take us back to Durban. In the meantime we filled in police reports. The conclusion was that the car had been towed out. It was unbelievable to us that they had managed to steal a car with all the alarms, monkey grip and everything in place.

What a way to go to bed. What a way to wake up. A car had been stolen along with a box of Tony’s newly released “Colours” cassettes, a nice big tent we were going to take to Mussoorie with us and Tony’s favourite handmade shoes.

Fear had made it’s presence known, but we were safe. We did go bed and we did wake up. That was something to be very happy about.

Aug2

Post 115. Treasure

Posted on August 2, 2013 by lindia60

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It was good to be with Wilf and Val again. Nothing had changed in Rolleston Place except that a few houses had been re-painted. No one had died and there were still lots of children everywhere; there were also lots of grandchildren.

The Lowe family

The girls were made to sing and perform for everyone just like we used to*. There were muffled giggles at their accents and their Indian head wobbles. Dave and Bev brought their three boys Jonathan, Cameron and Mitchell around and there was lots of dancing and jiving in the lounge. Peter and Char had little Kendal and Rig and Sue came with Ryan and Leigh. No. 28 * was brimming with life again. We spent lots of time in the pool and soaked up all the sun we could get. We had come from another cold winter in Mussoorie.

Wilf was so surprised with his gramophone. He got really tearful and even more emotional when it actually worked. It was amazing to hear an old vinyl playing with all its funky crackles and scratchy sounds.

Val took me shopping. What a traumatic experience. She needed to do a big shop so I took half of her list. I had no idea where anything was. I hadn’t been in a supermarket with a trolley for two and a half years. It was BIG. It took me ages to get the goods and I made my way back to Val. Everything I had was the wrong brand. In Mussoorie we had no name brand sugar, flour and milk. They all came in clear plastic bags. As Val started to take things out and put them back, I started crying again. I told her I would meet her outside. I didn’t want to go near another supermarket. Not ever.

I had changed. Everything in me had been shaken up. My worldview was different. I shuddered when my family still called their house helpers “girls” no matter how old they were. They still called their gardeners “boys” or “John” even though they had names. There was so much I didn’t like and I had to constantly remind myself to not be critical.

Being with my family again made me think. How often we lock people up in the boxes of our past. We presume they are the same as they were a year ago or even a few months ago. There is an expectation for them to behave a certain way and when they don’t we are taken by surprise. That holiday together helped me to let people out of those boxes I had put them in. He is like that, she is like that or even I am like that.

We change. We are flexible and adjustable. We can go from one culture to another and adjust to it. It may be difficult but it’s not impossible. I may not like it or agree with it, but I can be happy in it. If I look for the good and not the bad, I will find it. If I have to use a microscope I can do that too. There is so much good in people; SO many kind, lovely people in the world.

A poor man looks through the rubbish to find treasure. How often I have found myself standing in a pile of treasure, looking for rubbish.

* Post 5. Honky Tonk

* Post 7. Smoking banana leaves

Aug1

Post 114. Reverse culture shock

Posted on August 1, 2013 by lindia60

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Being in South Africa was strange. Rig picked us up at the airport and we drove to their place. The girls weren’t happy being tied down by seat belts, but were still able to look out of the windows. We asked them what was different. Ash asked where all the animals were and Zoë wondered why there were no people.

Rig and Sue had moved into a beautiful house on the school property where we used to live. There was so much space and the girls enjoyed walking across to “Little Lambs” pre-school to play with the kids. They didn’t remember much about it but Ash recognised a few people.

We spent a weekend at Waverley and so much had changed. We hardly knew anyone and very few had heard about us. When I stood up to share about our journey to India, I got really emotional. I suddenly realised that Waverly wasn’t my home church anymore. It felt more strange than comfortable even though we were looked after so well.

Rig and Sue took us out to a new mall for lunch. I was so weepy. I sat and watched and cried my eyes out. There was so much money everywhere. So many people carrying so many shopping bags and looking so empty as they did it. I tried to enjoy my lunch but it got stuck in my throat. I kept thinking about our family in Mussoorie and how hard life was for them; how little they had and how happy they were with so little. In that mall were so many who had so much yet seemed so unhappy.

That week Tony and I did some shopping at Pick ‘n Pay. We were looking for things we needed for our time in South Africa. We went up and down the aisles and just couldn’t make decisions about anything. Tony stood in front of the razor section for over ten minutes trying to decided which one he could get blades for in India. The price was a problem but he knew that if he got a cheapy, he would have to buy another one. The negotiations went on and on.

I walked up and down and got totally overwhelmed with all the choices. I cried walking past the toilet paper section. There were so many types, colours, designs, embossed and even perfumed. My thought was, “No butt deserves such pampering.” I couldn’t get myself to walk down the pet food aisle. That just finished me off.

My innards were struggling with everything. I was trying not to be judgemental or critical but I was very aware that those things were in me. I had seen such poverty and had almost forgotten how the other half lived. Being back in it was hard.

Tony kept reminding me that there would always be someone richer or poorer than us. Anyone who had a motor bike, would look at our jeep and think we were rich. If we got a motorbike, a man on a scooter would think we were rich. If we got a bicycle, a man who walked would think we were rich. Very soon we would be walking everywhere and not ever use public transport.

That was just the beginning of our time in South Africa. We were heading to Durban, Margate, Southbroom and then back to Johannesburg. Terry and Leonie offered us the use of a car. They gave us a choice: BMW or VW. We chose the VW and were so glad we did.

Jul31

Post 113. Confusion?

Posted on July 31, 2013 by lindia60

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In all the excitement, our visas were about to expire. We booked tickets to go back to South Africa in December to renew them. I was nervous. I had so immersed myself in India; I hadn’t given much thought to our visas or South Africa. When it hit me, there were a few things we had to do.

Wilf had always dreamed about having an old gramophone. We wanted to get him one for his birthday. Tony thought we should take an extra one to sell to help cover our air tickets. We planned to get them in Delhi on the way out.

The other thing was to work on the girl’s eating habits. A few weeks before we left, I watched them eating with their Indian and Nepali friends. My thought was, “Oh my goodness, what will Val say?” They ate with their hands, shared food from plates and learnt from their Nepali friends how to lick their plates clean. I knew Val would be horrified. I got out the knives and forks. They needed a good cleaning.

The girls were upset. They liked eating with their hands. The food tasted better and it was more fun. Poor things looked really awkward. We didn’t push it too much, but made it clear that only Indian food could be eaten with hands; not spaghetti or any Chinese food. They agreed.

Tony went to an NCMI conference in August and took our Tibetan friend, Sonam with him. They had a great time but we really missed Tony. While he was away, I was forced to drive. I had avoided it up till then. Ash had to go to school and there were things to do, people to see.

The roads were really steep and narrow. In some places there was only room for one vehicle. There was a lot of stopping and reversing and there were plenty of precarious edges and trenches to negotiate. It wasn’t long before I got the hang of it and actually started to enjoy that kind of driving.

While Tony was away, Zoë got really confused and upset about something. We were talking about marriage and I told her that one day she would get married and have her own husband and she wouldn’t live with us anymore. BIG mistake. She got into such frenzy and started crying about me getting old. “But who will hold my hand? I want my own daddy back, not an old daddy. The one who left us. I want him!” Oh my goodness. She was so confused. It took ages to calm her down. When it was all over, we started talking about Jason and Ali and she asked me, “Mummy is marry Ali-ed? She realised her mistake and we laughed and laughed.

Tony arrived back with the first five-year Indian visa ever granted from South Africa. It was amazing. The girls were on his visa and I would be given one at the end of the year.

He also came back with the things I had asked him to bring for us; things we couldn’t get in Mussoorie:

Coloured felt pens, tampons, tea towels, Marmite, ANY chocolates/sweets, vegetable peeler, choc chips, door runners, brewers yeast, good pens, contact lenses, kid’s videos and snacks.

It was like Christmas and daddy was back! The old one. The one that left us. That one.

Jul30

Post 112. A begging bowl and bikinis

Posted on July 30, 2013 by lindia60

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Paul and Kirsten looked like hippies straight out of the sixties. Paul had longish dark hair, a bit of a mallet and a big moustache. Kirsten always wore layers on layers or Indian clothes. She had long blonde hair. They had two children, Hannah and Jacob.

They started coming to our meetings and we became good friends. Friends we could completely relax with. Tony and Paul would go for long runs along “Piggy Road” and all along the by-pass. Tony loved his chats with Paul. He really calmed him down. We always enjoyed visiting them in their arty little apartment in the senior boy’s dormitory at Woodstock school. They were dorm parents.

They were also polar opposites. Kirsten was choleric and Paul was phlegmatic. Somehow they seemed to work well together. The senior boys gave them a hard time. Paul often found threats and graffiti in his office after busting them for doing something illegal. It really wasn’t what he enjoyed doing. He was a peacemaker and wanted love not war. He was calm and collected which irritated the boys even more. They really wanted to see him lose it.

Paul had been in India since his early twenties. He was on the drug/hippy trail as Tony had been. He met Kirsten in Goa. She was on the same trail. They fell in love and started travelling together. Paul would get her to carry his illegal substances in her suitcase, which she did willingly.

They got “married” and travelled to Laos where they lived for many years in a bamboo tree house. They learnt the language and lived simply, like their neighbours. Both of them were attracted to Buddhism and decided that was the answer to their spiritual emptiness. Paul checked himself into a monastery and Kirsten joined a woman’s one in another town. They shaved their hair, put on Buddhist robes and lived lives of celibacy.

It was years before they were let out into the “real” world again. Paul was sure he had conquered his sinful nature and headed for the beach with his begging bowl. As he sat and watched the bikini clad ladies, he realised he wasn’t free at all. After ten years of chanting, meditating and cleansing himself, he was still having lustful thoughts. He was desperate and angry.

He climbed to one of the highest cliffs in the jungle, stood on a rock and prepared to jump. It had been ten wasted years, without his wife and without a life. As he was about to jump, he remembered a prayer from his Catholic childhood:

Our Father, who is in heaven

Holy is your name

Your Kingdom come

Your will be done on earth

As it is in heaven

As he went on, he realised that he actually had a Father in heaven; a Father who loved him. If he had a Father, it meant he was his son. Suddenly he fell onto the rock under the power of that great heavenly love. He woke up what seemed to be hours later. Everything was different.

He got back to the monastery and opened a letter that had just arrived from Kirsten. In it, she was subtly trying to tell him that she had met with Jesus that week. She was planning to leave the monastery. What did he think?

They made plans to meet each other and headed for India. Somehow they bumped into believers who helped them with their questions and new faith. Mussoorie was their last stop. They rented a one-roomed place with hardly any water or electricity. They had no money but Kirsten started making and selling candles to the foreigners on the hillside. She made just enough to cover their expenses.

When we met them, they had come a long way. Paul sometimes led our prayer meetings and that was always interesting. He knew how to meditate and he was NEVER in a hurry to move on to the next thing. He was happy to wait for however long he needed to. Tony didn’t have the same patience. He would sit there thinking, “Ok, now what? What are we going to do now? Let’s move on.” He would open his eyes to look at Paul and there he was, quietly sitting in the same position with peace all over his face.

We learnt so much from Paul. The biggest thing was this: When we are spending time with our heavenly Father, let’s not rush away. Let’s ask Him if He’s had enough. We will know how loved we are when we always hear the same answer. “No not yet, please stay a little bit longer.”

Jul29

Post 111. The birds and the bees

Posted on July 29, 2013 by lindia60

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For four years, we had talked about whether we should have another baby or not. I definitely was not keen for more pain but Tony gave me that, “Don’t even think about it,” look when the “v” word came up. I could tell that the only way he would consider it, was if he was offered something he really wanted; like a colour TV or something. We knew they were offering free transistor radios in South Africa, but that deal wasn’t available in India. It was very unlikely he was going to do it for nothing.

Two children seemed to be the “in thing”. Two were easier to handle, it was cheaper, it was comfortable and it seemed like the perfect number of children to have. All of that was true, but we started to feel that someone was missing from our family. It felt incomplete. Tony had written in his diary in 1991 “Should we have Jordan?” I wrote, “Wondering about having another baby,” around the same time. We knew that if we didn’t, we would regret it all our lives. Somehow in all of our busy-ness, we kind of forgot to have a baby.

In 1993 we started to talk about it seriously again. I was struggling to admit that I didn’t just want a baby, I really wanted a boy. Tony and I talked a lot about it. I knew it was out of our hands, but I wanted to make sure God heard and knew how strongly I felt, before we “went for it.” There were months when we felt ready to try and then I would chicken out. It was a confusing, emotional time for me.

Asha was ready to go to school and we got a really good grant at Woodstock School. It was still way beyond our budget but we felt we should do it. She was so happy from day one. She made some good friends and it wasn’t long before Serena Mark, Ritika Roy and other little friends were sleeping over at our house.

Zoë really missed her. She would sit and stare into space. When I asked her if she was ok, she replied, “ I am just sitting here thinking and thinking about Asha.” She kept herself busy playing with baby Angie and helping me at home. We hand painted little nations flags for church and she loved that. It wasn’t difficult keeping her occupied.

Ash had her first cross country race at school. She did NOT want to do it. She woke up early that morning, crying and telling us she couldn’t do it. We tried to tell her she could and that she would enjoy it. It rained that day but the race was still on. Everyone was out on the road and Ash was in her brown shorts and bright yellow t-shirt. She had such cute, skinny little legs. We tried to encourage her without showing any sympathy. When she disappeared around the corner, I had to wipe my eyes. She looked so panicky.

The walk was to Cosy Corner, which was literally around a few corners, but for Grade Ones it was like a marathon. All the kids got back, running through the rain with big smiles on their faces, but there was no sign of Ash. We waited for what seemed like ages. We had no idea what had happened to her. Finally, she came walking around the corner, through the rain with Mr Mark holding her hand. She had refused to run so he walked with her. She had walked all the way there and all the way back. She had also cried all the way there and all the way back.

Every year we prayed about what was best for our children that year. We didn’t want to take it for granted, that just because we got a good grant in one of India’s most prestigious schools, our kids should go there indefinitely.

Ash’s fifth birthday party

We could see immediately that Ash’s attitude had changed. We found we were spending more time undoing things that we weren’t happy with. She would come home talking about boys kissing girls and who was whose boyfriend. We weren’t happy about that. She was in Grade One!

One day, when Ash was eight and Zoë was seven, we sat them on the bed and told them the facts of life. We wanted to tell them before anyone else did. We had an amazing colouring book, which gave all the details about how babies were made. The girls were so interested and had no expectation about what was coming. When we told them how the daddy seed and the mummy seed met each other, they both responded the same way.

The look on their faces was priceless. They looked at us as if to say, “You mean…?” When we nodded and repeated the process, they both laughed so much they fell off the bed and so did we. Well, almost.

Jul26

Post 110. Snakes and toss for brake fast

Posted on July 26, 2013 by lindia60

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MENUS AND FOOD

Hotal Midway

Scembled egg

Chocklate milksex, black crmant milksex, strawberry milksex

kukumber

kachumber

mashroom

chineese

stair fried chiken

veg segwans rice

chinse dish

tonduri

Restuerentent

Indian and Chinise

Chilled bear

Child beer

Brewary

Vegetavle petties

Brake fast : Snakes and toss

Chinese cousin

Vegetobles

Egg means roti

Pooridge

Road Rules from Govt of India chart for learner’s licence: No exaggeration

Left hand turn: Extend you arm and rotate it in antiblockwise direction.

Which are the places the car should not be parked? Footh Path, pedestrain crossing, fire berigate.

Carry only one pillion rider : Not even one children to sit on stand in front of you.

Do not drive: Even tonics having alcohol contents.

How to slop quickly: The best way is to slop quickly is to drive slowly.

Driving at night: At higher speeds, the stoping distance exceed the seeing distance there by causing accidents.

Flashing Amber light: Slow doen out proceed with caution.

In case of accident? Given him medical attention and report the accident within 24 hour’s at the near of Police Station.

T-Intersection: At T-Intersection the vehicle travelling on the road that ends must give way of to any vehicle travelling on the road, that continues.

I went for my Indian license in Goa. I got into our jeep with Tony and the instructor. I drove down a dusty road and got into third gear. The guy told me to stop. He got out and wrote down my number plate number. Tony asked if there was a problem and he said, “Pick up your license in two days.” That was it.

A friend of ours was really nervous about his learners test. He learnt the booklet from cover to cover and asked us to pray for him. When he was called in, the guy held up a red cross and asked him what it was. His answer was, “Hospital.” The guy told him to pick up his license the next day.