Getting quite envious of daughters current adventures in Rajastan, because she seems to be encountering interesting people (or poem material as I call them) at every turn. First there was whoever wrote the sign she photographed on the restaurant, saying Bloody Good View From Roof; then the old man she saw when she herself was on a roof - he was passing in the street below, looked up and saw her, raised his imaginary rifle and took an imaginary potshot. She returned fire with her imaginary shotgun and they traded imaginary gunfire for a few moments until he went on his way. Today she saw someone trip over a cow and go face first into a puddle. Even the lack of pettable animals (rabies worries) has been to some extent ameliorated by odd insectoid pets - in the hotel where she stayed in Delhi there was a cockroach she christened George Osborne (she says it waved its antennae in farewell when she left) and now in Jaisalmer shes got a resident one-armed gecko called Nelson. Tisnt fair - just because I cant stand heat and dont fancy injections.... Mind you, I couldnt make poems out of it could I - theyd be condemned as implausible.
Posted on: Sat, 02 Nov 2013 09:35:58 +0000
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