The Cover contest

It's finally here! my book cover design! but good things come in fours, apparently.

so now I have four designs to choose from. And I'm horrible at decisions. So I'm going the desi way. Delegate. I'm throwing the decision open to the public. You, yes you, dear reader will get to have a say on the book's cover design. How slick is that, eh? (and less decisions for me). 

I promise one lucky winner a signed copy of the Book and a baby hamper (that would be a hamper with baby stuff in it, not with a baby in it, just to clarify.), as is the norm in these kind of contests. All you have to do is use the poll at the end of this post to vote for your favourite option. 

The contest is open for a fortnight, at the end of which the final cover design shall be revealed. (or, I shall be forced to make a decision due to a lack of responses *shudder*)

So without further ado, introducing The Book Covers:

OPTION 1:

OPTION 2:

OPTION 3:

OPTION 4:

You might notice that a couple of covers have Rajni 'Arjun'Kumar down as the author. Don't let that throw you or in any way Bias you. I assure you, my surname is not changing any time soon. Even if my publisher thinks I ought to be re-christened. 

PS: If you're wondering how I'm going to pick a winner, it's simple. I shall throw paper chits with all your names into the waste basket. The ones that miss the basket make it through to the next round, where the basket shall be moved an inch closer, and paper shall be tossed again. After much paper -tossing and basket moving, a winner shall be declared. Much like reality shows on the telly. Neat, huh? 

Late Start

...we are what you'd call 'late bloomers'. Maybe we get the seven-year-itch three years later. 

The Mother of all Books: Everything you wanted to know...

...about the book! Well, not everything, You'd need to buy the book for that, you cheeky thing, but it's a start.

Right, so my book is being published. 'Great!' they say. 'But what is it about?' they ask.
Well, the book is about life, mostly. My life experiences. With the Baa Lamb. With Pickwick. (The Holy Terror wasn't in the picture yet). Our experiences as we stumble though parenthood. And finding our sense of humor along the way.
So here's the first of the comic strips describing our many experiences with this book release.

A typical conversation between Sense and the Baa-Lamb

The long road to Heaven

Well, I'm back from my holiday. I ought to feel refreshed. Alive. Invigorated. And I did. Until the plane ride back home. You see, Nice may be a wonderful place to vacation, but who would've though that getting there would be a challenge? Did someone sign me up for the 'Amazing Race' when I wasn't looking? When we planned this holiday, it was supposed to be a straight flight to nice and we'd be sipping Pina Coladas on the beach in no time. World economics and airline buyouts later, we were now headed to Nice  with a stopover in Frankfurt. Still, not the end of the world. We can handle it. The day of the trip dawns and in the flurry of last minute packing I hear the news that the airline staff has called a flash strike at Frankfurt! Noooooo!

Still, the ever resourceful Baa-lamb manages to speak to the airline and we will now take off some hours later with a stop over in Munich. Ha to you, Airline! Righty-ho... Nice, je viens! Sadly, lack of foresight on my part and lack of vegetarian meals in the flight meant that the holy terror (that is what we are calling the younger of the two offspring) was tired and hungry and she wasn't going to take it lying down. at one point, I thought the plane was going down, since she was quite determined to shatter the windows. We finally staggered into Golfe Juan at 2am in the morning. 

The next day, at a fairly sharpish hour in the morning (yes, the holy terror does keep unGodly hours), after a decent breakfast (and a minor mishap which saw the baa-lamb trapped in the lift for a goodish three-quarters of an hour), we contemplated the day's plan. By general consensus we decided to hit the beach 

Toddling off to the beach

The boats at the port

A storm approaches

Right, beach done, the afternoon was begging for a visit to Eze. Eze is a medieval village situated atop a hill, with the Jardin botanique d'Èze crowning it. The view from the top alone was worth the trek up twice (yes, once up carrying the holy terror, and then, having made the mistake of planting her on the ground, once more after chasing after her)

symmetry

Cactii

The view from Eze

Clear seas as far as the eye can see

I know, I should stop with the butterflies

One of the many wonderful art galleries

My plans for a lie-in were foiled second day in a row when this time, just to mix things up, it was Pickwick who was up bright and 'oily. Right, since we were already up, a drive down to St Tropez was the order of the day. I've already marked out the little villa along the coast I want to buy. Just awaiting the Euromillions win now:)

blue skies and blue seas

Day 4: *yawn* wasn't this supposed to be my holiday? Where are my lie-ins? Even the sun was taking a break today! Dragging self out of bed, the baa-lamb consults a train time table over coffee. Today we would cover Monaco and Ventimiglia in Italy (When on holiday with the Baa-Lamb, leave the planing to him.)

The Beach at Ventimiglia

  

more of the beach

Monaco

Ah. The final day of our hols. I have promptly sent the Baa-lamb to the beach with the brats. I finally get my lie-in. 

The less said about the return, the better. The bally airline decides to call a strike again- this time in Munich! after threatening to offload us in Munich and keeping us on tenterhooks, the flight finally took off, hours later. This time, we were well prepared and the holy terror was out like a light, but the two other babies in the flight hadn't read the memo. They more than made up for the deficiency in decibels emanating from the vicinity of our seat. *sigh* I need another vacation. 

Loo Blues

It’s now more than five years since we moved to this city. That is the longest I’ve stayed in one place after my marriage. We are so accustomed to moving around that Pickwick still keeps asking me ‘When are me moving to a new house, Mummy?’  He thinks it’s perfectly normal to move houses like one upgrades mobile phones.

For me this has now become my second home. Not yet my first love, but more like a happy crush one thinks fondly of. But when we came here the whole thing was a bit of a culture shock.  Tiny things, that make you realise that you’re from a completely different world. Take loos for example. Yes, Loos. We wash. Here, they wipe. No really, I don’t get it. Do you say ‘Gee, I’m all sweaty. Let me wad up a bunch of paper towels, wipe my armpits, and a quick dab all over, and Voila! I’m all clean’? NO? Then how the hell is it okay to do that for arses? And there is no concept of floor drains in loos.  How the hell are you supposed to wash the floors of the loos?  And we’re supposed to be the third world country??

Speaking of washing, we, that is, us Indians are obsessed with bathrooms. We need more bathrooms. When we first came here, we went looking for places to rent. The estate agent showed us plenty of houses, mansions even with 5 bedrooms, a reception room, a dining room a conservatory  and one, yes, ONE  bathroom and ONE toilet! I mean what is it with these guys? Don’t they ever need a shower? Oh yes, I forget – all they need is paper towels.

image courtesy:origami-resource-center.com

I still remember my grandmum used to freak  out when she came to houses with  bathtubs. She was used to, well, wells and rivers and such. So when I explained the concept of a bathtub to her, she went ‘chee!  You lie around fermenting in your own juices? That’s DISGUSTING!’ (This is a loose translation for her words from Tamil.  The literal translation would have be banned from blog sites) Thank God I didn’t have to explain toilet papers to her, she would have disowned me.

We have recently invested in a small apartment in India. We are delighted with it. When people ask us about it, we say, ‘Oh, it’s not much, it’s just a 2 BHK, and the proportions are quite small but it’s got TWO BATHROOMS!’

Ballooning in the Cotswolds

"A place of outstanding natural beauty" the tourist blurb says. Well, I was about to find out.
The Cotswolds aren't too far away to drive from London. Took us about a couple of hours to get there, and straightaway, you know that the information brochure does not lie. It was like I was transported back in time. There isn't even 3G in this place! But what it did have was ballooning - and weather Gods permitting, we were about to take off, after eleven unsuccessful attempts at praying for decent weather over weekends.
The snaps simply don't do justice to the amazing beauty we witnessed during the ride.

Hot air to get the basket upright. We then had to scamper in real quick before we were untethered from the station wagon

Looks like an image from Google maps, doesn't it?

Clear skies with visibility right up to the sea!

Keeping us alight

One of the most beautiful sunsets I've seen....

We were treated to a spectacular show by Mother Nature

The man, the moment, all very moving.

We Landed in a field - in the middle of nowhere.  The  pilot had to signal  the balloon chaser (yes, that is his profession, I'm not making this up) with giant flames shooting up into the night sky to guide him. Don't even ask how we packed the balloon up!

who knew landing the balloon and packing up would be more adventurous than the balloon ride itself!

The heart of London

So I attended this photography course over the wee

kend. And all in all it was pretty neat. Most of all it reminded me what was so amazing about the city of London. There we were, right in the heart of the city, and this is what we spotted:

No idea what that contained, but what a pretty colour.

Tre

k

k

ie moment

My attempt at creating movement.

Hail-O, halo

Atmosphere

A heron with a Mohawk

Easy Peasy

'Gosh! It's so easy in this country. As simple as that!' said the baa-lamb after he'd finished updating his records on line. We'd just moved house recently and the baa-lamb was referring to updating our records with the various companies and services.

'Erm... don't you think you're missing out on something?' I ask

'Huh? really? I'm pretty sure I've covered everything- the gas, the electricity, banks...' ' There's the matter of the land line, the telly, the broadband...' I interject.

'Do we really need those? You have a mobile, and you can surf on the phone, and what's with the addiction to the telly... or maybe I should get right on the phone and get cracking' says the baa-lamb hastily spotting the homicidal glint in my eye.

So a quick check on the internet (from the phone, of course) and we'd zero-ed in on a service provider who was pretty much promising us the earth. We placed a call to the sales team, and they wanted our land lord's go ahead to come and tinker about in the house, so they could pretty much get off the hook if they left desolation and destruction in their wake.

The Landlord, the gentleman that he is, agreed, but was pretty nonplussed that the service provided agreed to come out to our house in the first place. Apparently a decade ago, the entire street had been up in arms about anybody digging up the road for them new- fangled fibre optic cables. I'm guessing they didn't want this 'internet' and 'electronic mail' business to get in the way of them growing their daffodils and tulips. Hmm... interesting. So we though we'd call up the service provider again, just to confirm.

SP: Welcome to SP. We're the best money can buy, and your money definitely needs to buy us.

(or something to that effect)

Moi: Hi, I'm at ---------- (edited in the interest of our health and safety) and I've subscribed to your service, but I was just wondering if you provide services in my area.

SP(without missing a beat): Yes we do.

Moi: At my address? I was just informed that there was no cabling...

SP(Bored): yes, yes, yes, ok.

MOi: SO that's a yes, then?

SP (mindful she was talking to a customer, but really wanting to throttle said customer): I just said that dinnae?

Moi: Oh good. So you'll be coming around in a week then?

SP: No, that'll be three weeks from now.

Moi: But... but... the earlier confirmations was for a week.

SP: that was before this call. It'll be three weeks now.

Three weeks later...

I bounced up on waking. 'Today's the day!' I cry joyfully! I bounced into the bath and bounced down to breakfast and bounced to the trash can and bounced on my way to open to door for the installation team from the service providers.

They came, they saw, and they laughed at the though that we could ever receive service from this provider. To make matters worse, they tell me that if I moved house just 50 meters down, to the end of the road, I'd receive service, no problems. Thanks, guys, that really helps. Suddenly I wasn't bouncing. The world had lost it's sunshine and I was ready to crawl back into bed.

The baa-lamb, sensing I was close to breaking point rapidly called up a rival service provider who gleefully agreed to provide service in ten days at twice to cost. oh well, at least they didn't say 3 weeks (frankly if they had, I was seriously contemplating moving into a service apartment until the whole street wises up to the arrival of the 21st century)

Ten days later...

'Is it here yet?' this was the fifth annoying phone call from the baa lamb to check up on the arrival for the broadband equipment. Each time, my heart sunk a bit more as a said 'no.'

In desperation the baa-lamb called the rival service provider again.

RSP: welcome to RSP. We're actually better than SP, which is why we cost more money.

(or something to that effect)

BL: Right, I'm calling about the equipment that was supposed to arrive today...

RSP: OK, just let me check that for you... yes, it hasn't arrived.

BL: Yes, I know that. That's why I'm calling. What I need to know is, why.

RSP: ah, yes, here it is... we didn't send it.

BL(in exasperation): Why? Why would you do such a cruel thing?

RSP: well, the department who was to mail it to you didn't. I'll ask them to do that now, shall I?

BL: What were you waiting for? An invite? maybe with gold leaf on it? You didn't seem to want all this confirmation and re-affirmation when you were taking money form my bank account!

RSP: I'm sorry Sir, would that be a yes?

I think the baa lamb has now recovered sufficiently after a quiet lie down, but he's definitely rethinking ease of services in this country now.

D

Disasters, when they happen, do have a tendency to happen in my vicinity. My last outing was no exception.

After a week of spending day in and day out at Pickwick's bedside, until he was pretty much sick of my face, I decided both my son and I needed a break. So, entrusting him in the care of good ol' poppy and mommy, I decided to use the services of the car to step out for a few books for self and son as I would have to continue the long vigil by his bedside. Now before I stepped out, Poppy gave me the number of the driver- a chap called Rajesh. Considering Poppy had about 15 -odd entries under the title 'driver', I have no clue, how he was unerringly able to pick out this particular chap's number, but I supposed he must have some kinda system worked out.

Things started out tamely enough, and after battling the usual 'schumis-in-training' style driving and other sundry folk with a death wish calmly crossing the road at arbitrary points, thus ensuring a steady stream of patients being treated by the local physiotherapists for whiplash, we arrived at or chosen dest. - the local roadside bookshop.

Now the driver, having discovered that the whole of Kochi had suddenly decided to become bookworms, couldn't find a parking spot anywhere close to the venue. Thus it was decided between his broken English and my broken Malayalam and some rudimentary sign language, that he'd be hovering around somewhere, circling the area and when I'd finished, I just needed to call him up, and he'd whizz along to pick me up (thank you mobiles!).

It took me all of fifteen minutes to browse, haggle (having thus brought the price of my purchases down by a princely 10 rupees) and bag my loot. Patting myself on a job well done, I was feeling refreshed, all set to face another week at the Hosp. All that was left was to summon the car and hop in.

Two calls later, the driver wasn't answering. Maybe he's battling traffic, I though. Lord knows you need all you wits about you in this city. I gave it one more shot.

On the fifth ring I hear ' 'Allo?'

Me:Ah. Erm... Yes, It's me. Come along then.

silence. Then ' yaaru aana? '

My rudimentary understanding of the language led me to say ' Now is not the time to start babbling about elephants, man. Is there some kind of procession out on the street? Hop to it! I'm waiting in the middle of the road. You can't miss me. I look exactly the same as I did half an hour ago'

More silence. Followed by some panicked mumbling and the phone being handed over to someone, who I hoped would have a bit more sense. ' 'Allo?' Here we go again...

Me: Ah. yes. This car you're in. It needs to pick me up from where the chappie's dropped me.'

The other voice: No, no! this car is now someone else!

Now this made no sense (unless you were in a transformer movie). I was assuming he meant it was now going to pick someone else up. But who? The grandparents were safely ensconced by Pickwik's bedside in charge of amusing the fella. This only meant that the chappie was doing 'nuther pick up on the job. NOT a good day to pull a double shift on the sly!

'Now listen here, Rajesh,' I say sternly, in my best 'naughy Pickiwck' voice, 'that's my car you're driving.' well, OK, so it was Dad's car, but we don't want to confuse the fella by getting into semantics now. 'You just turn right around and get back here. I'm standing opposite 'sea lord' hotel. You can't miss me.' (yes, 'Sea Lord'. and yes, it did have a picture of a merman. Can we please stop giggling and concentrate on the matter at hand, people? We may have a potential car -jacking in progress!)

'Okay! Okay!! we come now, madam!' says the panicked aide-de-Rajesh.

Much better. I think to myself. You gotta be stern with these sorts. There no point in... thoughts interrupted by urgent ringing of phone. It was dad. 'Hey Pops!' I say. 'You'd never believe...'

Pops: Nevermind all that, sense. This driver, Rajesh

me: yes, yes, I know. would you believe it?

pops: you do? but how, dash it? and erm.. HOW?

me: Pops, calm down! I've got it under control. I told him to come pick me up right away, see?

Pops: Told who? From where?

me: (cue much eye rolling and accepting the fact that pops might be hitting senility a tad early) Rajesh. From where I'm standing.

pops: But you couldn't have. You don't have his number

me: (doing a quick mental check on symptoms : memory loss, gibbering... maybe a brain scan was in order) You gave me the number, Pops, remember? I called him up. The Chap was acting funny at first, but I gave him a proper talking to. He'll be down here in no time.

pops: Ah. Er. Sense... see that number I gave you, well, it's for Rajesh alright, but this Rajesh isn't the right Rajesh. This is another Rajesh who isn't exactly driving our car at the mo'. In short, it's the wrong Rajesh.

The head swam. I tottered. I needed to sit down. I waited for the chorus of Right Rajesh and Wrong Rajesh to die down.

'So the poor sod...' I whispered...

But Poppy wasn't through yet...

pops: but don't worry poppet - I've spoken to the right Rajesh - the one who's actually driving our car, not the wrong Rajesh, who's probably in someone else's car... and he's on his way to pick you up. Right-ho, then. Pip-pip.

and just on cue, 'Right -Rajesh' arrives with the vehicle.

I meekly got into the vehicle and drove to the hospital in silence. I wasn't coming out again until sanity had returned to the world. And parents stopped naming their offspring Rajesh.

In the meanwhile, somewhere out there is a Rajesh, who's undergoing counselling coz he quivers uncontrollably everytime the phone rings.

Lessons from child to mother

Lessons that Pickwick's taught me in the past month:

• Life throws a curve ball at you when you least expect it. If you're not ready, it's apt to hit you in the face, and you might end up with a broken nose - or a broken femur as the case may be.
• Having failed to catch said curve ball, get back up on your feet real quick. That's the only way you'll know if you're fine or, when you collapse in a heap, unable to support yourself - you need to get professional help.
• Now that you're at the doc's, learn to swallow the bitter pill. Just coz you haven't seen the x-ray, doesn't mean the bone isn't broken. It will need need mending.
• Time is relative. It can always be measured as the space between chocolate breaks
• Your real family is the one that calls you/ writes to you/ sends you a hand made get-well-soon card that you can always go back to when there's nothing good on the telly.
• Your phone's pretty useless unless it has at least 2 games and 6 of your favourite songs
• There's no such thing as listening to a favourite song too many times. And however often you listen to it, it'll still have the power to cheer you up.
• If some one objects to listening to a song one more time, he can always listen to your personal rendition of the song. Listening to the original might suddenly become a whole lot less objectionable.
• Life is a battle of wits between you and your oppressors. Every time they think of ways of making your life miserable, or immobile (apparently for your own good), you need to think of new ways of outsmarting them by contorting your body into impossible positions.
• There's always a silver lining. The number of days you're tied down in bed is directly proportionate to the number of chocolates you'll receive, and be allowed to consume by guilt - ridden adults.

Tube Zodiac

I have lately stopped reading my book in the tube. I find it for more interesting to watch other people while listening to the latest hindi ‘gaana’

 

Like Ms Goodman chooses to classify people into 12 broad categories, we can classify the tube commuter into 12 broad catergories:

 

The Ram: The ram bulldozes his/ her way into the crowded compartment and yells at the top of their voices ‘Move alonnnng, please’. Yes, dear ram, we needed you to tell us that, otherwise, we just so love to leave vast expanses of unoccupied seats and standing space, all to huddle together on the 3 square feet of space you need to occupy.

 

The Bull: The bull just goes a step further and pushes you out of the way. One needs to be especially wary of the female variety, as they just zero in on the seat they’ve spotted through the window. PLEASE, for your own safety and for the safety of those around you, jump out of their way! Once they are comfortably seated, of course, they’re the most pleasant things to have around.

 

The Twins: These are generally of the adolescent variety, and one is seriously tempted to urge them to get a room. They are so entwined that it is hard to decipher where one ends and the other begins. The upside to this, of course is that they occupy one seat instead of two, or if standing, will stand collectively on only two feet at a time.

 

The Crab:  we tend to spot the crab at most major interchanges. They dart in, espy two-odd seat in different direction, mentally calculate the distance from the door to the seats, pick the closer of the two, and with some deft maneuvering (that can only be describe as ‘crab-like’) he’s sitting pretty, while others are still struggling to get in.

 

The Lion: The lion is not afraid to voice his opinion. He’ll have an opinion on the services, on Gordon Brown, on the recession, on the weather, on you...and it’s this last bit that particularly galling, because he’ll be there ‘tch’-ing at the bull, rolling his eyes at the Ram, hissing at the twins… you get the picture. Watching his back must be a full-time job for him.

 

The Virgin: This is someone you’d like to unleash the lion upon. Super –critical doesn’t begin to describe them. They’ll be the ones running their finger over the window sill with a raised eyebrow. A 30 second delay in departures with have them impatiently looking at their watch while tapping their feet. God forbid, you choose to jump into the tube seconds before the door shuts, then you’ve really had it – You will be root cause of any delay henceforth, be it signal failure or a man having a cardiac arrest 3 trains ahead. You Were The Cause. And the Virgo won’t let you forget it. Maybe there’s a reason they’re Virgins?

 

The Balance: These ones would do you proud on a footboard in a Mumbai local. They’ll be the one’s standing near the door, first to hop out as soon as the train stops. No, not just at their station, but at every station – they’re also the last to hop in. At every station. Why they do this beats me, but I suppose it give them a warm afterglow to know that they have successfully shaved 1/625 th of a second off their travel time in a day. 

 

The Scorpion: Beware the scorpion – they strike when least expected. Largely prevalent in shady locations, they normally move in herds.  Their sting, also called switchblade swiftly deprives you of your most prize possessions, and they melt way into the night, never to be seen again.

 

The Archer: The archer loves to, well, ‘arch’. He arches over you to get at the newspaper, arches over to open the window, arches over to grab the hand-hold… erm, hey, archie, newsflash: believe it or not, shoving smelly armpits in peoples faces is not the best way to get them to like you. In fact, it might surprise you to know that it has quite the opposite effect (yes! Really!)

 

The Horned Goat: Or the tube lothario. Normally, despite being hampered by a severe shortage of it, people are quite respectful of each others’ personal space, but the horned goat delights in getting up close. This is because under normal circumstances, the ladies would rather join a nunnery that be caught having a conversation with the goat. With some faces, even that mother of all beauty creams – beer, fails miserably.

 

The Water- Carrier: Thanks to the miracles of modern science, pregnant women can now work further and further into their term. Now if only science could find something to calm co-passengers and they get more and more nervous. The reason for this, is not that they’re worried about the health of the mother and baby, but more on account of the fact that if the water- carrier turns to the water-breaker, there’s a good chance that they might miss the kick-off of the football game they’re going to. Would make a grown man cry, it would.

 

The Fish: Ah! The fish! Commonly sighted at Pubs, other tube zodiacs magically transform into the fish after football matches, weekends, hours of hard partying, stag dos, weekends, rugby matches & weekends. Look out for the fish’s tendency to assume everybody’s their best friend, a total lack of co-ordination (like the inability to put food into the right orifice in the face), the inability to find their home, and hence, assuming that you’re their best friend, now that they have known you for all of 38 seconds, they can crash at your pad for the night. Naturally, if you’ve transformed into a fish as well, you will not remember any of this the following morning.

Visit to the Homeland

The recent visit to India had me behaving like the typical NRI, as I sheepishly admit.

Here are the following rookie NRI faux pas I committed:

• As soon as I landed, I commented on the noise levels in the city at 1 am in the morning
• Almost threw up in the vehicle after being treated to road-rash style driving
• Visited the temple – in traditional garb, not sparing Pickwick either
• Managed to infest kid with virus
• Managed to catch the aforementioned virus myself
• Was surprised that the country has not frozen in time and has managed to move on in the years that we were missing
• Commented on how expensive things had become and started sentences with ‘I remember back in my days when…’
• Clicked photographs of absolutely arbit. things which I now found hilarious (a key chain advertising ‘steel balls’ and a billboard for ‘sham publicity’)
• Had the junk food off the streets and marvelled at it, swore it was nothing short of gourmet
• However, did drink only mineral water, in case I caught something
• Caught something anyways
• Accidentally let the accent slip to a friend – and didn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the trip.
• Thoroughly enjoyed the rickshaw ride, and pooh-poohed at the natives who were sputtering at the pollution levels – and went giddy breathing in the concentrated levels of carbon monoxide.
• Caught with the 159 relatives who live in the city, mostly on a single day. Had Pickwick thoroughly confused on the number of tatas and pattis he has. He didn’t mind much though – his equation is simple: the number of relatives are directly proportional to the number if goodies you get. (‘pwesents!’)
• Went to relatives houses with chocolate, and got desi sweets in the bargain - and wondered for the nth time, why on earth they preferred the chocolates.
• Stacked up on the DVDs of our traditional mythological heroes (Hanuman and Ganesha) despite Pickwick not watching more than 60 seconds of anything, unless it’s a song and dance sequence
• Refused to move around in anything but tops, capris and cut-offs, and worked on my ‘tan’
• Went overboard with sending off clothes to the ‘ironwallah’ since I wasn’t the one doing the ironing
• Had to be frequently reminded by relatives to ‘just leave the dishes’ after a meal, I didn’t need to wash up afterwards *bliss*
  
  Future visits will possibly iron out these quirks… although I’m rather hoping I can just get back to being the desi who’s visited by the NR relative.