Friday I'm in love

The girl comes home from work
And sets about to cook
Dinner made she digs out a book
And there she goes, forkful of pasta, sitting in a cosy nook

The pasta's been polished off
Her eyes have left the page
Feeling well-fed and almost a bit sage
Now thoughts of dessert does she engage

Out comes a cheesecake
Her evening just got to its peak
She should have been out, looking dolled up and sleek
But, eh, a boring end to a boring week

Double, double toil and trouble

Amrita’s post on how Baby Quill (love the soubriquet btw :D) made shampoo and gooseberry pickle brought back vivid memories of my own efforts in this direction.

I say ‘my’ but what I really mean is ‘our’. I had a partner in crime, you see. There was also a certain time of the year when such R&D took place. Summer holidays, when the two little brothers came to visit.

The older one, who has the fortune of being referred to as ‘Treetop’[*], among other more embarrassing nicknames, usually had a hand in said adventures.

One hot afternoon, we concocted something that had Complan, some milk, sugar, some ... uhhh ... salt and (rather inexplicably), Rin. We stirred it all up, yessirree, very very nicely and sat there feeling very smug and successful and triumphant in general. Of course, we still needed approval. Of an adult, naturally. Given we were sat on the kitchen floor with mortar and pestle and all the ladies were bustling about, the most likely victim happened to be our ajji. She had time to spare for us (as ajjis do), while no one else did. Too busy making chivda and barfis and what not they were. Hmpfh. So ajji got cornered into tasting this ... something. She dipped a finger in, popped it into her mouth and in the next second, stuck her tongue out and exclaimed ‘phya!’, disgusted. Now, bear in mind that we bore no malice, neither did we intend any mischief. All we wanted was someone to tell us how clever we’d been. Surprisingly, we weren’t given a talking to. Praise be damned, we were really tickled by this ‘phya!’ and spent the next few days rolling with laughter every time one of us said ‘phya!’

The younger one might have been feeling left out but looking back, there’s one occasion that he probably feels he was better off for not having participated in. Our mothers had brought back a packet of ready-to-make ice-cream to keep us entertained for an afternoon. There wasn’t much to it, heat some milk, add the contents of the packet, stir it up nicely to avoid lumps and get a nice thick mix which then had to be refrigerated. The older one and I spent much time following the directions to the T, a lot of which involved vigorous stirring of said mixture (which was a very nice chemical baby-pink) while we spoke about matters of great importance such as which girl(s) was the object of attention and affection du jour and how she/them reciprocated by jabbing him repeatedly with a compass or a ruler or other such items of romantic symbolism. The ‘ice-cream’ was refrigerated finally and due to reasons that remain unfathomed to this day, stayed in its milk-shake form.

But we’ll always have the-ice-cream-that-was-actually-cold-custard-of-some-form. And the younger one had an equal share in it, which makes it very special. It was thick, grainy, pink and we topped it with jelly cubes and peppermints. And watched as the adults ate it with straight faces.

Perfectly angelic little children we were, god promise!

---

[*] Don’t go feeling too sorry for him, he called me Grasshopper in return.

Found!

Just goes to show that I was looking in the wrong place. Anyhoo, as the saying goes ... "Der aaye durust aaye".


Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Heroines.

Readership, frandship etc.

My colleague E mentioned that she goes to a book club every now and then. Interest piqued I asked her what sort of books they read. "Oh all sorts!" she replied and said she'd elected an author so everyone could pick a different book to read and they'd have more to discuss that way. They really do read all kinds of books. I asked if they'd done any Young Adult fiction and came away with another set of books to add to my list (Mortal Engines ... what sample bits I read, I really liked).

I was fascinated. I've always wondered what happens in a book club and never quite fathomed the idea of an exclusive get-together to talk about books. Unlike watching telly, or a movie, sports, listening to music or even plain old-fashioned conversation which lend themselves to being group activities and therefore provide fodder for conversation as a continued group activity, talking about books seems just incongruous with the act of reading, which is such a solitary activity.

I mean, what do you say to each other?! 'Yes we've read the same book. Oh yeah I loved it! ... uhmm ... ahhh ...' *awkward silence* comes to mind when I try to think of the times I've tried to use books as conversational topics, or overheard someone trying to. Not counting the time someone said they loved reading and I asked what they read and they said Dan Brown/Sidney Sheldon which got me into a right squawk and there was no conversation because I was pretty much left spluttering my scorn. Yes I'm a snob, thanks for noticing.

Also, there isn't always common ground to cover. Music being the exception, there is limited scope for the kind of things one might watch/involve in when it comes to common interest topics such as telly or sports or movies.

Mainly, the problem seems to be finding someone who has actually read the same sort of stuff that you have and then has something more to say beyond it. In my case, that would be anyone who reads Tom Holt, Robert Rankin, Jasper Fforde and Regency novels.

So maybe I ought to join a book club. I'm not sure I want to though. It's the sort of people related commitment that I'm not sure I want to make. It's one thing to incidentally meet people and it's another to actively seek them out. I haven't a problem making friends, but I just don't want to. Even though I've had to say buh-bye to a number of friends who've upped and left the country (say what you will about IM and social networking but it just doesn't work for some relationships).

Probably just as well I suppose. New friends would mean new people who would have to be told no they cannot borrow my books. Blanket rule, exceptions to which happen to live in other countries.

Maybe I should start being a regular at Speaker's Corner ... I could have my say without any frandship strings attached.

Matters of Textual Importance

I've been having this internal 'Get a Kindle or not' battle for weeks now. One part of me says I ought to wait for another two generations to be out at least. It points out that actually, e-books are just as expensive as brand new books and you can't get them second hand so if nothing else, the sentimnetalist hard-copy lover wins for purely economic reasons (cheapness? :D).

It sounds very cool as such ... zooming facility, font adjustment, being able to read even in the sun, being able to carry a 1000 books with you wherever you go ... but I don't see how it might replace the physical book. I think there will always be the need for physical books. If the day comes when people stop printing books, I won't be eating my words, I'll merely be ruing the loss of something so irreplaceable.

I can see where an e-reader might be useful. Students needn't carry a zillion textbooks/references around, it's all there in one handy package. And you could still squiggle all you like in the margins. One could possibly write/read a 'live' book which becomes available on a chapter basis as it's written. It has possibilities, no denying that.

Books are a personality thing I think. The book you're carrying says something (a lot, perhaps) about you. It can be a conversation opener, an in-joke, a point in itself. A cover is a peerless advert by itself.

But buy an e-reader and you lose out on that. It's going to be the next ipod/iphone. Owning one would make me just another standard issue hi-class-piece-of-technology owner. No more surreptitious glances from people around me when I carry The Ex-boyfriend's Handbook, no amused smiles when I'm walking on the road with the book in my hand upside down (which amuses me in turn. It's not like I'm reading WHILE I'm walking! Come to it, holding the book upside down would actually make reading when walking easier), no more being the frills-and-furbelows girl reading Neverwhere, or the girl who looks like she'd bite your head off but can be seen smiling fondly as she reads The Wedding Officer. No more. Instead, all you have is just another person with a square tablet that looks no different from someone else's. I don't think this is necessarily an upgrade, the saving space, upgrading to something niftier. In a sense, it's loss of individuality.

Heck, what about things like books launches?! What about standing in queue to get the author sign your copy? What about waiting to buy something very special, like the 50th anniversary copy of To Kill a Mocking-bird? There won't BE a 50th anniversary copy as such considering they'd look and feel just the same electronically (at this point anyway). And what will the author do, sign your e-reader? Or sign your e-book with an e-signature but honestly, that ain't good enough for me. Give me ink any day. And paper.

Thank you, Chandni, for inspiring this post. I must admit that I actually wrote the entire post in your comment window :-| (which just goes to show that what they say about a change of scenery being inspiring really is true!)

"Oh grandma! What big dreams you have!"


"All the better to live Life with, dear."

Catty: there are 3 FAT crows sitting on the tree outside.. i think they're scaring bottlebrushthey're frikkin huge.HOW can a tiny branch support these huge creatures???  Me: I've NO ideano wait

  actually

  I do

It must be a 'special branch'.     Yeah, so, what's new? With you, I mean!   

Some things just don't get old

Like the fact that roughly two years later, there isn't a single day I go by without talking to you.* Or the fact that you laugh at the silliest things I say, when you're not finishing me off with that quintessential 'tch'. Or the fact that as the days go by, you only proceed to evolve into a self-contained support system that lends me a ear, a shoulder, a rant-outlet, career advice, wisdom. And otherwise simply continues to add to my happiness with mere presence.

If this were the me of a few years ago, I could have managed an effusive and articulate ode celebrating you. But then again, maybe the me of a few years ago wouldn't have made friends with you. But knowing that you'll get what I'm saying, despite the taciturnity ...

I hope that some day I will be the secure, confident, content and wise person you are.

Happy Birthday Catty ... because you don't age, you evolve :)



*And yeah, I was very serious about using Tuesday as a point of no-contact, if ever ;)

Bella's bumper sticker

'My boyfriend sucks'

Cliff Notes

Looking at her, nobody would ever have said she lived life on the edge. Or ever had. She wasn't adventurous, boisterous or even curious.

In fact, you'd be hard pressed to come up with anything to say about her. She was the sort that blended into the shadows. It wouldn't be wrong to say that you'd never think of her.

Her side of the story though, was ... well, it was an entirely different story.

She felt she did live on the edge. On the edge of a very deep crag. And with every little thing that transpired, the temptation to find out what was at the end of that drop, up close and in person, only got stronger.

She thought of the deep end as her destination. Home.

But one day she looked up. At the vast sky and the far spreading mountains with their grass and trees and sweet smelling flowers. And felt the caress of a gentle breeze.

'Of course, it makes sense', she thought. 'Perspective '

Everybody lives life on the edge ... all that's different is whether you look up or down.