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...
"Enough is enough! Enough of the oiling!" I said in exasperation to the cook. She looked at me in amazement. "Why would I do that?" "Because oiling has become a way of life," I remarked. "I've heard of a midlife crisis, but this is the first time I'm encountering a sixty plus crisis!" She exclaimed. "I've also heard of the 'old oil' as P.G. Wodehouse put it .....!" "You read P. G. Wodehouse?" I asked in amazement. "Yes, when I'm not reading Bertrand Russell," she replied. "Oh!" "The trouble with the world is that the stupid are cocksure and the intelligent are full of doubt," my cook said gravely. "Are you calling me stupid?" I asked suspiciously. "I did not. Russell said that somewhere," she said. "He said nothing about oiling?" "Yes, he said that the amount of accessible oil in the world is...