Another day of emails and catching up, interspersed with regular rings on the doorbell and requests of “Can we get our ball back please Auntie?”. They are forever hitting them into my garden or up onto the garage roof (and into the garage if they find one of the many holes in said roof).
My neighbour Khalid calls around late afternoon, back from burying his grandfather in Pakistan. He’s visibly upset and tells me what a good man his grandfather was and how good he always was to them.
His day hasn’t got any better from having to take his youngest lad to A&E after he fell through his rotten garage roof. Our garages are semidetached as it were, and we’ve been waiting and waiting for the builders to come and do a major repair job. I promise to ring and chase them up again.
Luckily young B has no serious injuries, just a bit shaken up. I agree with K that we need to reinforce the message to all the kids that they aren’t to climb up on the roof – even once it’s fixed.
Boys will be boys I guess, but I’m just thankful he’s ok – it could have been really nasty.
As I get the car out to drive to Rusholme I find a further two basketballs in the garage. I’m getting pretty nifty at putting them back up through the holes in the roof and back into next doors garden…
At the Punjab (well where else did you think I was going in Rusholme) I meet up with Rachel and Mark. It’s their debut visit and as with all first-timers they’re mystified by the dosas.
The fact that Ahmed vocally and occasionally even physically assaults me as he passes, gives the game away that I am perhaps a regular… Still until I get to the Stuart level of familiarity I reckon I’m ok.
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