Foresight

Last summer, when I told people about how we disciplined kids at camp through manual labour, I was sometimes met with shock and outrage. Yeah, sure. YOU spend 8 weeks with a bunch of rowdy teens and see if you'd react any different!

Apparently, us Activity Leaders weren't the only ones who'd thought to go with that kind of plan. The Scottish government have similar ideas. 

Mammoth Task, meet Pixy.

Somewhere in the latter months of last year, after attending a couple of Tuesday night comedy gigs in a row I was bestowed with the dubious status of "Comedy Groupie". Considering some of the things I have been called in the past, this wasn't all that bad! It also meant that I had a brand new - and ever increasing - circle of friends all networked into Scotland's comedy circuit.

It was a chance remark by one of my comedian pals that got me thinking about pairing up my new found friends with my energies as a fundraiser to get another event going. This time, it would be one that the "regular" folk could actually attend; no black ties, no £100 a plate tickets!

I approached the charity I'd worked with on all of the past eventsand outlined my plan to them. To me, it was a no brainer. If they covered my initial costs like venue hire, I could make sure they get that downpayment back.... and then some. However, they didn't think so and came up with every excuse in the book as to why they weren't able to support me and my idea. It was a stark reminder of my disaster interview from last year.

Not wanting to give up on a good idea, I went ahead and emailed a couple of other local charities. One of them got back to me and set up a meeting for this morning. We met, we chatted and in about an hour we'd worked out most of the details on how the charity could support my fundraising efforts. March 3rd is the magic date. And now I have the mammoth task of planning and executing a comedy nightcharity fundraiser in little over a month's time.

*Gulp*

And, for the record. I really prefer Band Aid as opposed to Groupie!

Busted!

While waiting at the cross walk on the way home from the underground station, I happened to glance at the couple standing next to me. I remembered that they had been on the same subway car as me. The lights changed and we crossed, they a few steps behind me. I could hear snatches of their conversation. It IS.... I'm sure....just ask, why don't you?... Because its weird, that's why!....Do you think so?.... yes, I'm positive. 

Odd conversation, I thought, but didn't really think too much about it. As I turned off the main road onto my street, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the couple. Excuse me, but do you live in the first block of tenement houses on this street? A little bemused, I nodded; the girl hastened on. You live on the first floor don't you? Again, I nodded. Do you live in the same block as me? I asked. I didn't know we had new neighbours come in! 

The girl looked at her partner and then back at me. I could see she was blushing slightly. Actually, we live across the road at number 9. But we can see into your living room..... and we can see you dancing around most days. We've always wondered who you are.... and well... now we know! 

It was my turn to blush.  

New Year's Revelations

Berlin was a spur of the moment decision. A question of, where can I go for a few days at minimum cost? Two days after I booked the tickets, I found out about the lay off. Panicking slightly, I wondered if I should go ahead with the trip. The wander lust won out in the end. And besides, the tickets were non refundable.

Being in a new city was always a time for discovery. This trip, the biggest discovery was all about myself. Well, not so much a discovery as much as a confirmation of a lot of facts!

For starters, I have figured out that I am socially outgoing AND socially awkward both at once. I am also too old to play the pickup game. And I'm a wee bit afraid that I may just be too old for the entire travel/backpack/hostel experience in general.

Let me expand.

When I travel its all about seeing a new place; visiting the sights and taking in the local culture and history. I truly cannot be arsed with staying up late and partying till the ass crack of dawn. Its far too expensive - and very often for a single girl traveller at least - a wee bit dangerous.

It is almost a direct throwback to my high school days. Through 10 years of primary and secondary school, I pretty much had the one constant pal. I got along with a ton of peeps, but they were all largely generic. When VBF wasn't around, I would tend to flit around the periphery of other groups; always on the very edge, never quite in. There were times when I was hugely bothered by this and I was acutely aware of my solitary status. As I've grown older the solitude has become more and more like an old pal in itself. We are very comfortable together and there no pretense of false popularity is required.

Back to the travel, I get the distinct feeling that most other travellers don't quite know what to make of me. I do wish that social conventions allowed me to just state my agenda (or rather, the lack of one) loud and clear. Dear Fella at the bar, I have zero interest in snogging or being snogged. You seem like nice enough blokes and I just want to have a few laughs. 

I am painfully aware that most times I come across as a right weirdo. Like a mirror of my high school days, I am sure that most of the time first impressions are that of eccentric kook who will probably end up like Mrs. Haversham. Fifteen years ago that might have upset me. Today, its not so bad. Heck, Mrs. H got to dance around all day and did exactly what she wanted without a care as to what the world thought. Not a bad life eh?

Paving the Road to Hell

Got back from the very awesome and totally manic New Year's eve party at about 6am yesterday morning. How's that for a banging start to 2011?

There were a lot of surreal moments during the night. For starters, the air in the room was so thick with smoke I could have carved out a centre piece sculpture. And I wasn't talking about just cigarette smoke either. Then there was the boy who decided to get his hair shaved right in the middle of the living room. Half way through the event, the clippers broke and the boy ended up with a most unusual look. And let's not forget the pair of hussies that had taken it upon themselves to play an interesting game of Pass the Chlamydia as they made a lot of fellas very happy in the early hours of the new decade.

Regardless of all those shenanigans, or perhaps because of them, it was one heck-of-an-interesting night. Even the walk home at 5am was fun as I met a bunch of fellow west enders all heading home and it was a case of each one helping the other along. Now that's called being neighbourly.

Since I got home yesterday morning, I've been installed on the couch in the living room watching whatever has happened to be on TV. That has included Two Weeks Notice, Bridge Jones: The Edge of Reason and yes, that ringleader amongst flims of heartstring tugger variety - Love Actually. Also, it is now PJ wearing hour number 36.

So much for the good intentions!

Good Intentions

And so we arrive at the very last day of this year. As always, there is that feeling of Where ever has the time gone by? I swear, we were *just* doing this last year......

Although I'm a not a resolution type of gal, I decided to go ahead and make some erm... guidelines for the upcoming year. And so, in no particular order, here they are:

1. Try something new as often as possible.
Beer Baron once told me that according to his grandma, trying or doing something new added an extra 72 hours to your life. We are still trying to figure out how that would work when it comes to sampling new brews; would the extra 72 hours cancel out the 72 hours we were probably loosing due to liver deterioration? In any case, actively seeking out new experiences seems like a good way for me to ensure that the adventures continue. And hey, they make for very good blog posts as well!

2. Don't spend more than 48 hours at time in my PJs.
Please note, I'm not saying that lounging around in one's PJs are not a good thing. I'm just attempting to put a cap on the number of days (at a time) that I remain in them.

3. Do NOT keep watching sappy movies like Love Actually or Sweet Home Alabama. They do nothing other than shine a very large and bright spotlight onto the fact that I am (and will probably continue to be) in a state of singledom.

4. Dance. All the time. Anywhere. Everywhere. Even if people are watching. Especially if people are watching. Something like this.

Happy New Year Readers. I've loved having you follow along on my mad little journey so far, and hope to see you again in 2011.

The Mega Christmas Wishes Post

Some years ago a friend came up with a very unique idea for a Christmas email. This year, when sitting down to compose mine I remembered his plan and decided that the statute of limitations on the rip off had expired and went ahead and created my own version of a Christmas message.

When thinking about Christmas, its always the memories from your childhood that tend to take centre stage. Good and bad... they come tumbling to the forefront. Whether it is that horrible dress your mother forced you to wear (Bandra girls on this list... you know the one with the bows and itchy fabric) or the excitement of making Christmas sweet with your Nana and the cousins or the thrill of the first notes of the Christmas choir. 

I could have written a deep and insightful (and sometimes humourous) account of my best Christmas memories... but that's not going to be any different from the rest of the festive greetings is it? So, thanks to the wonder that is You Tube, this is going to be an audio visual trip down memory lane!

When you sing in a Christmas choir, the festive season begins long before Advent Sunday. In fact, I remember one year when it was not even Diwali and we'd already begun with weekly practices. Through trembling tenors and shakey sopranos and with 80% of the singers not even able to read music, we somehow each year managed to pull off a fantastic performance the Christmas Eve service. Unfortunately, there are no recordings to share with you, so instead I give you The Carol of the Bells

 performed by a very unique ensemble.

Anyone growing up in North American will be very familiar with TV Christmas specials such as the Peanuts Christmas and A Christmas Carol and How the Grinch Stole Christmas. We didn't have TV specials in Bombay. What we DID have were uncles and aunties and random relatives and family friends who lived in various parts of the Middle East who would tape (yes as in video) various programs and pass out these cassettes to their India based rellies. And thank goodness for their unabashed bootlegging and totally infringement of copyright because otherwise I would have never ever known about The Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton, A Christmas to Remember.

There are so many wonderful songs from this program, both the old and well known as well as new (well, for 1984) ones that Dolly and Kenny belted out in true country style. My all time favourite that I'd like to share with you is a song who's lyrics are so apt, even all these years later. And yes, I Believe in Santa Claus!!

Whatever your personal Christmas traditions, the season is all about getting together. Friends and family from near and far. And over the years, Christmas has been the reason for some amazing musical collaborations that have produced some of the finest tunes ever. There's one such match up that I absolutely love. Here's David Bowie and Bing Crosby and their take on

 The Little Drummer Boy

To all of you on this list that have kiddos (or are about to pop some out), I say to you: Make sure your kid is introduced to the wonderful world of the Muppets as early as possible. Heck, I'd say that EVERYONE should know about the Muppets. The world would certainly be a much better place we all just did things like they do in Jim Henson land! (manamanah!)

So, I end this with this, the best of Christmas wishes to you and yours. May it be merry, may it be bright, joyful and triumphant!  But most of all, may it be filled with the joy and laughter of loved ones. Here's hoping that 2011 brings you the best experiences and wonderful times to look back on at this time next year.

Kermit, Miss Piggy, Fozzie, Gonzo and the rest of the gang have this special wish for you. 

Cheers to a wonderful today, and an even better tomorrow.

Pink. Not my Favourite Colour.

Pretty much all of Scotland has been getting slammed with the worst kind of winter weather. Snow, sleet and ice is all that the weather fairy is offering on the menu. It has caused the worst kind of chaos as this country is so not prepared for the ravages of winter storms.

And yet there were a small group of us that still managed to trudge in to work every single day. From 6pm to 10pm every night, we toiled away. There were at time anxious glances out the window as the snow started to accumulate to alarming proportions. Over the radio we heard repeated announcements for folks to get home early as there was fear that most main highways would soon be shut.

Last Monday, as the snow was gathering to alarming proportions, we asked if there was the possibility of getting off work early. After a lot of hemming and hawing, permission was given to leave 30 minutes early *only* if we made up the time later on in the week. Very thankful, we scampered off. The next day, we each got a call from work telling us that the back shift (that's us) was to be temporarily suspended due to the weather.

I must admit that I did enjoy the unexpected night off. It was actually the night of the epic foot-in-mouth moment, but hey it was still a night off and it felt wonderful to out and about like a regular person! But as the days went past, and the snow and ice melted and we still didn't get a call back to work, there was a stink in the air. It wasn't until last Wednesday a whole week later that we were finally recalled to action.

By this time, I had a sinking feeling about the whole situation. And right enough. As we all sat down at our desks, the manager came by and handed us all a letter. It's just about your contracts he drawled. It sure was. And the fact that this was our one week's notice of termination as the back shift was being cancelled.

Its not the fact that we've been laid off. Its not the fact that I've lost a job that I was counting on to see me through the next six months. Its how it was done and the really lame reason (change in company dynamics) that we were given. The reality is that we were asking too many questions, making too many "demands", actually bothering to question how things were done.

Today was our last day. Not one person from management stayed behind to acknowledge that 12 people were leaving. Perhaps even to thank us for our efforts? Wish us good luck? A Happy Christmas?

I'll miss the fun times with my colleagues and the security of a regular pay. But I cannot say that I'm sad to be out of there. I've been working for 10 years now and that was truly an interesting experience. But I am slightly thankful that I do not have to be part of that environment any more.

I am instead, going to focus on spending Christmas with my friend and everything else that the holiday season has on offer.

Pixy out.

Kiss and Tell

Every year in the run up to Christmas, I always have that one special moment that seems to define the season for me. Its something, often a tiny and mundane act or event that is the trumpet blast The Holiday Season is on hand!!!! This year's was just a little extra special.

Last night I was at a bar with some friends when someone pointed out that I happened to be standing right under a bunch of mistletoe. All conversation came to a screeching halt as every single person in the group (and some from adjacent groups as well) turned to see who was going to do the deed. The seconds ticked away feeling like an eternity and I stood there just looking into my drink and wishing that the earth would open up and swallow away my public embarrassment.

After what seemed like an eternity and as people were starting to feel bad for me, my pal leaned over and gave me a loud *muuuuuah* on the cheek. Everyone laughed and the tension was broken and people were turning back to their conversations. Then, the unthinkable happened. Another guy - the undisputed charmer/bad boy/man whore of the group - turned to my pal and loudly exclaimed, Terrible! That's no way to kiss someone under the mistletoe. This is.....and before I or anyone else could react, proceeded to kiss me long and hard and if I'm utterly honest, very very well.

When he finally broke it off to the loud cheers of the bar, I wasn't sure if I was dizzy from the beer, the embarrassment or the fact that I had just had a total overdose of Christmas cheer!

Hello Mouth, Meet Foot!

The scene: Comedy night at the local. Booth in the corner with some of my pals. Boy sitting in corner is a newbie; colleague of a friend.

The situation:
I am sitting diagonally across from boy-in-the-corner. At one point, I shift position and in doing so, slam my knee against something under the table. Puzzled, I look down knowing that it can't be the table supports. Turns out, its boy-in-corner's leg. He's so tall that his legs stretch right across the large pub table and that's his knee I've just slammed into.

Still peering under the table I exclaim, Good heavens... that was you. My, you certainly are one long fella.

There is dead silence as everyone at the table processes that sentence, followed by a gale of laughter as me (and boy) turn very red.

*sigh*

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas!

The first flakes were falling just as I got home from work on Friday night. We'd been expecting it all day; there was that sharp chill in the air that just screamed "Snow's Coming!" People around me pulled their coats tighter and stepped up the pace, eager to get home as soon as possible. I spread my hands and turned my face to the heavens. There was something so magical about the first snowfall of the season that it always felt like an almost spiritual experience.

As I watched from my window, the wind rattled against the pane whipping up the light flakes into a flurry frenzy. By the time I woke up the next morning, it was a Bing Crosby dream world outside. But Ma Nature wasn't done.

The snow continued to fall all day on Saturday, then through most of the night and as I sip my Sunday morning cuppa it's still falling. Knowing just how ill prepared Scotland is for this kind of weather, I am already dreading the commute in to work tomorrow morning. But for now, I am warm and cosy on the couch watching hangover TV and very glad that I have nowhere to be, but at home.

In Sickness and in Health

Spain was amazing, but coming back to bone chilling temperatures has done nothing good for my body, already tired out from the long days of sightseeing coupled with the even longer nights of wine and song! I boarded the flight home with a sore head and an itchy throat and by the time I landed in Scotland it had escalated to a full scale fever and horrid swollen glands.

Speaking (or rather, croaking) to my mum the next morning, she poured out all sorts of Mother type home remedies to me. Haldi (turmeric) and milk, that's what Nana would always say, was her advice to me. I rang off promising to take a dose immediately. Except when opened the fridge I saw that we were all out of milk. And I really wasn't feeling well enough to drag myself down to the store to get some.

I curled back on the couch and buried myself under layers of quilts willing myself to get warm. The heating was on, and yet it felt like I was sitting in an icebox. My mum, ever vigilant called back in an hour to check if I'd followed her instructions. She clicked with impatience when I told her the situation. I hastened to reassure her. I've mixed brandy and honey in hot water and I'm sipping that right now. It's soothing my throat and warming me up as well. 

Mama laughed and said that she wasn't sure that would have been Nana's first choice. Nope, I replied. But I'm sure that's what Papa would have suggested!

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait. Eventually!

The vacation that was supposed to be is, finally the vacation that actually is!

And if you don't happen to speak cryptic, that just means that after all the cock ups, cancelled flights and various other bureaucratic glitches, I'm finally packing my bags and heading off to El Torro land tomorrow. Five days in Madrid where I'll meet up with university pal Peaches and his wife. Sadly, its not going to be possible to reconnect with my Spanish pals from over the summer as this is exam time and they're all loaded down with assigments and cannot make the trip over. Hopefully I will get to grab a couple of minutes with the one that lives in the city.

From Madrid, its on to rival city Barcelona where there are more lovelies to meet up with. Old family friends who I haven't seen in about 10 years. Its going to be quite the reunion.

So, look after yourselves my lovelines while I'm away and I'm sure there will be much to chat about once I'm back in two weeks.

The Only Constant

Last summer my parents finally got down to replacing the front bay window. They took away the old one which was the original window from when the house was built back in the 60s and also (thankfully) got rid off the butt-freaking-ugly awning that resided over the window. This spring my dad and brother revamped the garden putting in flower beds and planting a plethora of perennials and annuals that have totally transformed both the backyard as well as the front garden into a riot of colour and beauty.

When talking to my mum earlier today she told me that they've just finalised with a contractor with regards to doing up the kitchen. The old and outdated flooring, counters and cabinets are all going; new appliances are moving in and the old walls are literally getting busted down to make way for a window/counter top looking into the dining room.

We knew that there was work to be done when we bought the house. Some of these changes were long overdue; we didn't even have a properly working dishwasher for crying out loud and the backyard had been a tangle of weeds when we moved in. Everything was moving according to plan.

I love that my dad, the consummate gardener has the rose bushes that he has always wanted and that my mum will finally have a kitchen that is a help, not a hindrance. But I'm just a little sad that I'm not there to share in these little (and big) events. So much is changing. Will I even recognise places and people when I get back home?

But then again, so much has changed about me as well. I am, in many ways not the person I was when I left. Will they recognise me?

Lady Justice, You are Blind Indeed

Somewhere in the midst of the fun and laughter and revelry of the night out in Soho last month, my credit card was stolen. I didn't notice the loss until the next morning and called the company right away. They canceled the card and assured me that there had been no charges made although someone had tried - unsuccessfully - to use the card to buy train tickets to Manchester. Cheeky sods! The new card came in the mail some days later and life went back to normal.

That is until I received my bill and the first thing I notice is a £300 ATM withdrawal made the same night my card was nicked. Raging, I called the credit card company and filed a disputed charges claim. This was on a Friday night two weeks ago. Today, I get a notice in mail dated the Monday after that first call informing me that "their investigations into the fraudulent claim is complete and I am liable for all charges".

When I called the fraud investigations department, they were unable to tell me what kind of investigation they had completed. They only thing they kept saying was that because my PIN number had been used, I was liable. The inference was that the chip and PIN technology was fool proof against fraud. Apparently they haven't been reading the papers or following the news. And sadly for me, it is the same bunch of numpties who are apparently the "experts" in the world of fraud. These are supposed to be the gatekeepers and the watchdogs of finance.

No wonder then, the whole bloody world has gone to hell in a hand basket.

Trick or Treat?

A few months ago I interviewed for a job here in G Town. Unlike most other times, I didn't need have to spend the days before researching the company and the job role in my usual pre interview agenda. I didn't have to google the office location, or look up the interviewer. These were things I already knew because I'd been working for the organisation for the past 8 months. I'd assisted with planning three large fundraisers and through those events, helped the organisation raise over £85,000. Suffice to say, they knew me, knew my work and my strengths and capabilities.

At the interview I outlined a 15 month fundraising schedule that I had developed that included introducing a new range of events that targeted the 21-35 year old population; a group that I felt the organisation had failed to tap in to as potential long term donors. My plan included a list of event ideas, potential dates and venues and details on how to market these events to the target population using social networking tools. It was smart, comprehensive and guaranteed to raise their fundraising levels by at least 20% over the next year.

They listened to the entire proposal, smiled and nodded. Then they pushed aside everything I'd said and decided to focus on the fact that I didn't have access to a vehicle - which they stated was integral to the role - and that I didn't have an established donor network here in the city (or the country) that I could tap in to for support and outreach; also something they stated was integral to the role. I pointed out that I had somehow managed to do the job (rather successfully at that) for the past 8 months and hadn't let either factor be a hindrance to my success. Still, they weren't convinced and a few weeks later, I got a letter informing me that I hadn't got the job. It was a bitter pill to swallow. I was so sure that my past actions spoke volumes for my capabilities and deep down I felt I deserved the job far more than any of the other candidates. Fortunately, I left soon after for the south of England and soon the sting of that loss was a distant memory.


Some weeks ago, I received an email from the same organisation that was a call for volunteers. I checked the date and knowing that I had no other plans, confirmed my help. I even roped in a friend to go along as well. Last night at the event, we sold tickets, manned stalls and generally helped out all evening. I knew a lot of the other volunteers there as we'd worked together before at other events and it was a generally fun filled night. It was the first time that I was meeting anyone from the charity since the interview. It was also the first time I met the person they'd finally hired, but with two jobs in hand and a plan for a third on the horizon, I was in a much better place than six months ago, so it wasn't a big deal at all.

This morning I got a text message from the Fundraising Manager. Let's meet up soon. I have a proposal for you. 

I'd been tricked before. So, this time, I'm hoping for a treat. 

Where Have All The Nanas Gone?

It is a truth universally known, that early morning phone calls are always to be mistrusted. For whatever unexplainable karmic reason, good news will come to you during the day. But that phone call or text message or pager that you get in the wee hours of the morning - that will always, always be helped along by an ill wind. And so, when my phone rang at 10:43 am today and caller ID said "home", I knew that picking up the call would definitely put a damper on my day.

It was my mum, calling to tell me that my dad's aunt had passed away. She was the last of her generation on my paternal grandmother's side of the family. I never knew my own grandmother as she had succumbed to ovarian cancer much before I was born. I am named for her and I share her passion for music and her talent for dance. Aunty Eye was her younger sister and almost everything I know about my grandmother came from her; but even after hearing all the stories, I feel there was so much more I could have learned, so many more questions I could have asked.

And that's what troubles me the most. As each grandparent, great aunt and grand uncle passes away, there are fewer and fewer voices that can reach back and decode the mysteries of the past. Suddenly it feels like a race against the passage of time and already I know that I am falling further and further behind. But, I wonder, is the sense of this loss a sorrow for their mortality, or is it that I know that I am just another step closer to mine?

Roots

Last year I found out by chance that a lot of my friends here in G Town had never taken part in that oh-so-delightful Autumn activity otherwise known as pumpkin carving. I decided that it was my bounded duty to spread the good cheer of Halloween and with that in mind I invited a few friends around for a night of carving. It was a fun night; lots of laughs, good food and getting to know new friends. And a whole lot of folks who lost their proverbial pumpkin carving cherry!

A few weeks ago, some of the friends who'd come to last year's party cajoled me into organising another such evening. Last night, as I looked around at the gang gathered around my living room I felt a sense of accomplishment. I had established a tradition of sorts.

Today there was more evidence of further integration into local culture. Come 8 o'clock and I'd settled in to watch X Factor - the results show. Drama and his boy got me hooked the weekend I was in London and I'm now cheering along with the rest of this island. Again, it seems trivial but its just another thing that makes me feel more at home. Makes me feel like I belong here. Here, in this adoptive home of mine.

Character Reference

At a meet up with friends Tigger and Roo last night, we got talking about our year end holiday plans. Roo is from Oz and Tigger is from Finland, so both are relative-less here in G Town. They told me about their plans to be with Tigger's folks for Christmas and she listed all of the little Finnish customs and traditions that she was looking forward to. When it came for my turn to tell of holiday plans, I shrugged despondently. I'd been invited to spend Christmas with friends from Newcastle, but seeing as how I worked until 10pm on weeknights - and Christmas eve is a Friday - it was going to be impossible to get to theirs in time for a holiday celebration. Almost all forms of transit shut down by 5pm on Christmas eve and don't start up again until Boxing Day.

While Tigger murmured her sympathy, Roo gave me a quizzical look. Pixy, you work on expenses right? Spreadsheets, money, allocation of funds... the likes? he asked. Wondering at this rather abrupt change of topic, I nodded in agreement. Yes, that was essentially what I did at work. His brow cleared and a big smile spread across his face. Good Heavens!! he yelped. Good Heavens, Pixy. You work with numbers and money and you're probably going to be working late on Christmas Eve. You're a real live Bob Cratchit!!! 

 

Divine Intervention

There was an email in my inbox this morning telling me about the death of my mum's cousin. He had been very ill for a while and for the last year bedridden, so it was a blessed death. Later, as I was speaking with my mum I mentioned how October 1st seemed to a popular day for our family. Today is Nana's one year death anniversary.

My mum murmured her agreement. After all Pixy, she said, Prim* Nobert was Nana's godson and he was really very fond of her. He must have remembered it was her death anniversary and decided that would be his as well. Now laughing madly, I told my mum that no matter how much he liked his Godmother, it would hardly be up to him to pick his time of passing. My mum was silent for a bit and then spoke. You're right. Prim Norbert wouldn't have been able to do anything, but Nana could! 

And although I rang off still laughing madly, somehow I could totally see my grandmother being on some kind of welcome committee up in Heaven saying to a perhaps bemused and disoriented new arrival. Sit down baba, have a sandwich. You look tired. After all, its been a long journey to get here.  


*Konkani word used for older cousin