The Secret of Eternal Youth

Hello blog people!

One is writing this post from up the wall, which one's maternal parent drove one up, in the three days that she was visiting.

While the said parent has left Bombay, and is now driving the Delhi-based siblings up their Delhi-based walls, one thinks one will just stay up here for a while. You know, just in case she has left behind the ghosts of her drive-your-children-up-the-wall personality.

(And while one realises that one is probably a horrid little thing, one has a rather interesting view from up here. For one, one can see the tops of all your heads. Ha ha!)

One still wakes up in the middle of the night with that measured-yet-menacing voice in one's ear.

"Why are your masala bottles so grimy?! Where do you stack the unironed clothes? Why doesn't the bai clean the dishes well? Why don't you ever tell her anything? What kind of household are you running?!"

And one is, once again, reduced to a quivering, crying broken shell of a woman.

An interesting facet of human behaviour comes to light though, that namely, all quivering and crying is done in retrospect. For the three days that the MP had the run of the household, one had automatically slipped into rebellious-teenager mode.

One did - with much aplomb, mind you - the whole exasperated-eye-roll, the I-can't-believe-you're-saying-that look of horror and the could-you-possibly-embarrass-me-anymore saucer-eyed-expression.

The poor pater, in his characteristically resigned manner, contented himself with talking to the SB about everything under the sun, and buying mountains of fruit*. And occasionally letting out despairing cries of, "Why isn't anyone eating any fruit??"

So it seems, that the secret of eternal youth is (insert portentous silence HERE), "Invite thine parents over for a couple of days" (and thunder and lightning...NOW!).


On the other hand, one wonders what use this transient youth is, if one is going to spend all of it perched up on a wall?


* Which is another 'father' thing. One is beginning to think that in dad-school, one of the first lessons they teach you is, "Nothing says 'I love you' to your offspring, more than a bowl of assorted fruit. Make that two."

One is late...

...for the silly pic tag passed on by Vulturo, but one had, what is known as, a problem of plenty.

































This guy is a clear winner, but one thinks one comes a pretty close second, what?

Oh and this guy has a jolly little gallery of participants.

And I tag Phantasmagoria, Straight Curves, Saltwater Blues, Arthur Quiller Couch (wiggle out of this one Couch!) and Rhyncus.

Because I'm a sucker for...

...good copy.























































And the car looks pretty awesome too, doesn't it?