I Think I Am Becoming An Old Man.

September 12, 2011 at 6:05 pm (Uncategorized)

Because seriously, I make the same mistakes old men do when they are faced with the mind boggling turn of their life when they have to name an object they want you to fetch. They can call the notebook on the settee a bazooka; a Blackberry, a strawberry; a missed call a missile, and a mahram* a ‘moharram**’.

Such a phenomenon exhibits itself in me when I have to leave my home for dreaded medical school after spending a long summer vacation here. I have called this packet of McVities chocolate, Taxi, names ranging from ‘chase’ to ‘speed’ to ‘tiger’, and finally, to ‘garden’ in a matter of three days or so of trying to find it in some hidden crevice in my house (my mother still hides chocolate from her 21 year old daughter and her other kids who are around that age, attempting to be a strict, healthy mum, albeit, while nibbling on a few sweets here and there in the process).

I was even savouring a stolen candied fig whilst writing a portion of the above^.

Adieu, Home. Adieu, la vie! Et bienvenue, ma SO-CALLED cherie l’ecole. I count the hours, and so on and so forth.

(The author of the prattle above may not be able to write for some time, say, a week or more, because she may not have an internet connection and she has to reset hers on arrival to the above-mentioned cherie l’ecole, insha Allaah; so here she is, expressing her deep apologies).

*Mahram: close male relative such as a father, brother or husband.

**Moharram: The first month of the year in the Islamic calendar.


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