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ravenI just had a slight adventure. Actually, it was nothing very exciting, but being here has taught me that exitement is relative. I went with Shivani to her swimming practice as usual, and we were dropped off and tried to get inside the pool. The door was locked. Further investigation proved all the doors were locked. I was stuck. Once again, I was aware of how helpless I am when I'm here - no phone, no money, no knowledge of local geography, and besides, you can't bloody well walk anywhere. Thankfully, Shivani spotted a friend of hers, whose father had a mobile that we borrowed. In the end, they gave us a lift and we got back safely, leaving me slightly aggravated that I wasn't more help, but I'm glad I was there, and Shivani didn't have to deal with it on her own.
Blah. The one plus point to the experience was meeting Shivani's friend, whose name was Devaki. In the car, her father mentioned going to the library, she got all exited ("Bring me a book!") and I, in search of a kindred spirit, asked if she liked reading. She said she loved it, but she loved writing even more. I was moved to show her the red ringbinder. She laughed, and we would have had an interesting conversation about books if it hadn't been cut short. Not so long ago, I was moved to wonder if all eight-year-olds are like Shivani (ie, make so much of a racket) and I'd just been too wrapped up in myself to notice. My aunt informed me that I was the quietest eight-year-old she'd ever met, and she'd never met anyone who read so much before. I was startled.
Blah. The one plus point to the experience was meeting Shivani's friend, whose name was Devaki. In the car, her father mentioned going to the library, she got all exited ("Bring me a book!") and I, in search of a kindred spirit, asked if she liked reading. She said she loved it, but she loved writing even more. I was moved to show her the red ringbinder. She laughed, and we would have had an interesting conversation about books if it hadn't been cut short. Not so long ago, I was moved to wonder if all eight-year-olds are like Shivani (ie, make so much of a racket) and I'd just been too wrapped up in myself to notice. My aunt informed me that I was the quietest eight-year-old she'd ever met, and she'd never met anyone who read so much before. I was startled.
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Re:
on 2003-07-11 08:46 am (UTC)You can't walk anywhere because everywhere is so bloody far from everywhere else. And that's the other thing I find scary is the fact no-one says "bloody." It seems to be a quintessentially British thing.
Meredith, I need your address!
Re:
on 2003-07-11 01:36 pm (UTC)Right. Address. I'll get right on it.