The Inner Voice
A new realisation- you know that inner voice that sounds out all the words you read in daily life?
Lately, mine has a French accent.
Especially with words like passage (puh-sahge), orange (or-hange) and message (meh-sahge).
Comment allez-vous, ma cherie? (Koh-month ah-lleh woo, mah sherry?)
“Bring your people along”
English desis wearing Paul Smith suits and toting the latest Blackberry Curves are a dime a dozen.Β They also universally seem to congregate around Leicester Square during evening and conduct loud conversations on their phones- swinging their hands around and lookingΒ at the sky. (Damn you, handsfree).
“Hey, Samantha, I am at the Dangling Conversation at Covent. Do you want to meet up for a drink or two?”
There must have been a reply of some sort because the guy replied after 10 seconds.
“Oh, it’s no problem. Bring your people along too.”
Dude, I am sorry for sniggering behind your back. I really am.
Some people will do anything for love…
Like leave their relatively-safe-job and come home during a recession. Just to feel all loved up.
Just to make it absolutely clear- I wouldn’t.
Hakuna Matata at the Lyceum
Then there are those perfect moments, when you see Timmon and Pumba singing their hearts out. Maybe someday that little lion cub will learn that the philosophy to live by is to just stop worrying.
And it’s not all that hard to remember that 14 years ago, you had cried over Mufasa’s death. This time, you are excited, even though you have to contort yourself just so that you can see the top of Sarabi’s head during the opening scene at Pride Rock.
Yes, I watched Lion King at the West End!
When the sole aim is to get lost…
you walk from Foley’s at Tottenham Court Road, with a slight digression at the British Museum and Malabar Junction to Oxford Street and from there to Charing Cross Road, Leicester Square and find yourself back at the British Museum. Then you walk towards the other end to magically find yourself at Covent Garden, back at Leicester, Picadilly and suddenly at the National Gallery.
You just found your way home!
Culture Vulture
I still don’t understand modern art. But I really liked the sticky toffee pudding at the Tate Modern!
Parking for Princesses only. All others will be Toad.
Sales lesson #1 for the extremely-expensive-China shopkeeper on Portobello road.
When confronted by two people- one, an Indian girl wearing summer clothes in Britain and two, a ditsy American blonde (and her clueless husband wandering in and out) here’s how you might be able to sell a few cups the next time.
It might not be a good idea to concentrate on the one who is giggling at a bone china cup, exclaiming she didn’t know those cups could cost upto 30 pounds, even if she does have a nasal American twang. She might not have been joking when she said, “I might have to mortgage my house to buy this saucer.”
Especially when the Indian hadn’t said anything when you informed her rather snippily about the price of a Wedgewood teacup. It’s her mother’s birthday after all. Mothers deserve eggshell thin dainty tea cups.
You’d run back to your favourite customers who were still giggling nervously in front of the cake dish.
Fast-forward one century
Our London office is on Jermyn Street near Picadilly Square, right behind the steeds of Helios. You really can’t miss it, if you know what you are looking for.
Apparently, a century ago, Jermyn Street was a bustling red light area.
Different century. Different services.
We accept cash.
Monkeys now have well arranged rooms
Sorry, dude. I just couldn’t resist it. Your books are now all stacked on your dresser. Happy reading!
crossed over my head…
Sorry, Bijay. I like being cryptic. π
“Parking for Princesses only. All others will be Toad.” mmpphha haa haa
and he’s been known even to fold and keep away his trash. i’m surprised you found things to tidy up π
Heh. I am an obssessive compulsive tidier. Though I just dump things into my cupboard.
She washed plates at our house. Can you believe it? Things even we wouldn’t do.
U suffer from OCD.. Obsessive Cleaning Disorder..
And you suffer from always pointing it out. Pftt.
So do you, Sonny boy.
Sonny, I also vacuumed your house and put out the trash (and made the bed, cleaned the table after the party)…
Let the truth be out there. π
You are not helping your case. Vinay, you want to call Arkham, or shall I? We have a new Batman villain here, Mopgirl.
@ Sonny, I refuse to help.. She refused to clean up my room point blank during IIMB days tho she used to point out in every sentence how much the room stunk
@sonny – ah yes..the cleaning of plates (stares bemusedly into the distance).. i think i’ve done that once too!
@vinay – it’s a good thing the natural order seems to favour the obsessive cleaning disorder types flocking together with us obsessive compulsive disorderlies π
I know when to give up on a lost cause π
Well, that’s not the only one…
@megha: I have horror stories of saucepans with maggi stuck on its bottom for months. And out of desperation, reusing it as it is. And no, I don’t eat maggi. It was the others. π
thank you. remind me never to accept maggie at your luncheon parties anymore!
Backfire. Hahah π
Attagirl, Megha.
At no party of mine, will Maggi be ever served, even if it is made by Gordon Ramsay.
So now you workin in london ?? Or a business visit ??
P S : i ve finished readin all your posts …after a herculean effort
Jerry, thanks for the persistance. I work in Brussels wonly π
Hillarious post girl.
Though Sonny and Vinay steal the thunder in comments. π
Hehe, thanks, Buttah. How’s it going? Have you bankrupted the vile MNC yet? π
WTH? In our business we take names of the companies without any fear/guilt. π
And yeah, I have had some success, but you know me. I am never in a hurry.
As long as you have started, your mills, they grind exceedingly small. π
Lion King at West End :)Priceless
Shtrang agreer.
I finally got your “Parking for Princesses only” joke. π
About time then π