There was a time when I waited for Sunday. After a week of work, and I worked hard, a day of rest was very welcome. I loved to sleep. I am not an atheist, and I go to church maybe once a year for midnight mass on Christmas eve. So I'm not a churchgoer basically. Therefore Sundays did not mean that I was seated in the pews in church listening to the pastor's sermon. The pastor, in fact, would not recognise me until my sister, who goes more often to church, introduced me as her brother after Christmas Eve mass. I also had a problem sleeping and would lie awake at nights trying desperately trying to fall asleep. I tried counting sheep and it never worked. I also tried those sleeping videos on YouTube. I listened \ and felt bored. They were not music I was familiar with and they kept my eyelids firmly apart. Even a safe tranquillizer that my doctor prescribed did not have any effect. The on...
"I'll cook something nice for you today," my cook said. "No, your usual muck will do," I replied moodily. " I wasn't speaking of duck, I was speaking of haggis," she said pretending not to hear. "You mean Huggies? That's what babies wear! I didn't know that you could eat Huggies," I said surprised. "You don't ....." I wouldn't," I replied. "All I said was that I'll cook you haggis. The Scots eat it and like it too!" She said impatiently. "Scots! Great Scot! The chaps who wear skirts and thrust bagpipes on an unsuspecting world!" I exclaimed. "They wear kilts, not skirts!" "Next you will tell me to wear a skirt? Let me tell you that I'm not a cross dresser and never have been," I replied heatedly. "But you never know, it might catch on here!" "I'm not wearing skirts," I said firmly. "No one is telling yo...