Domestic Tragedy

Several Domestic Tragedies, in fact; at least three. The first being that Dr Biswell must go tomorrow, come what may — he should have been gone days ago were it not for badness with the MOT and repeated, unsuccessful attempts to get the right bit on the part of George at the Garage. Anyway we have had a farewell dinner with freshly dug Pink Fir Apple chips, which are a fiddle but once in a while, worth it. The second Domestic Tragedy is that today, a light and fragile parcel arrived from the Canadian Professor. It contains a number of perfectly packed, completely intact sugar cones from the best ice-creamery in Toronto. But alas, we do not as yet have a freezer, so they are wasting their sweetness on the desert air. I only hope they last out until we have ice cream making facilities once more. The third Domestic Tragedy is quite awful: the Tropical Godfather, who we were expecting to see quite shortly, fell down a flight of stairs in Kuala Lumpur and broke his femur. We are so sorry about this, not least because he will not be able to come over. Anyone who is so minded, do please offer a prayer to the deity of your choice for his recovery.

4 Responses to “Domestic Tragedy”

  1. the tropical godfather Says:

    CORRECTION: the Tropical Godmama insists that what I broke was my femur not my hip. I defer to her opinion on this as on so many points. Besides which, I never was very good at anatomy. So femur it is.

    However, I stand by my story of the knife fight in the opium den.

  2. carol Says:

    The vital point in such macho anecdotage is, of course, to point out that your interlocuter should have seen the state of the LOSER….

  3. the tropical godfather Says:

    Actually, I think it may be EVEN MORE MACHO (and I’m all for that) to smile ruefully and admit that one was bested.

    Irresistable, right?

  4. canadian professor Says:

    Clouded canes. According to Geoffrey Tillotson, the late learned editor of the Twickenham Rape of the Lock, a clouded cane has a knob at the top which is - well - clouded. With amber snuffboxes, says GT, these were all the rage. Johnson’s fourth definition for ‘clouded’ makes sense: variegated, with veins running through. Looking a little marbled?

    There used to be a mostly cane shop near the British Museum. I bought a gorgeous silver headed cane to add dash to my recovery from a hip replacement, only to leave it in a taxi from the Toronto airport to my house.

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