Hello and welcome to my first post of the year. Following in my usual tradition of being fashionably late, I decided to write something down to sate the minds of all the people visiting daily to check if I’d posted anything. All you people who kept checking, thank you. Even the two of you who got here by searching for “white man posh shower”.
To start with, the mother is leaving for India again in approximately six hours from now. This is dire news as I now have even less faith in my cooking skills than I did the last time around. Unless I survive off roadkill or something, I am seriously concerned about my chances of survival. Add to these woes the fact that I plan to buy a camera in a couple of weeks, meaning I’m stingy like a micro-managing pimp these days.
In more positive news, we recently went to Galle during the lit fest. Attended the free event, Readings at Sunset. Or something. It was at a hotel a bit towards Unawatuna. We had the misfortune of attending last year too, when we cycled to galle. This year would be different, we hoped. Alas, it was not to be so as we were yet again assaulted with wave after wave of what we were assured was “Great literature” and authors who were supposedly “The greatest writers in the country”.
I’ve read a lot of Sri Lankan “writing” on these here inter-tubes. I don’t think most of you would fancy yourselves professional writers and erstwhile gay fashion statements, but honestly, you lot write content that is far superior to what I was assaulted by at Galle. You are the USS Kennedy to their Titanic. The Great Wall of China to their parapet wall behind my house. The Murali to their …me. I don’t know, I’m the worst bowler I know.
It felt like the written form of Mahagedara being read out. I was literally falling asleep listening to some lady yap on about some freaky love triangle like it was the third world war. It was full of people in the audience chattering about this great person and that other scandalous man. Rumours and gossip was thrown liberally around like pasta at a 4 year old’s birthday party. Except 4 year olds usually have more decorum.
So yes, the lit fest events weren’t that great to us. On the bright side, Himal being the bundle of fun he usually is, entertained us early on in the trip by managing to tumble down the side of the fort ramparts, all optimus-prime-dying like. It was the funniest thing I’d seen all year.
It’s taken me nearly half an hour to write that child of a post. I have many tales to tell but so little time/inclination to do so. I also hope that I’ll have the energy to do so next time I decide to post, seeing as how I have no nutritional plan for the coming month.
Wish me luck! And lunch.