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My neighbour Darrel is a retired old man. He lives with his 40-something daughter that needs help. He is loves to talk and walk, and, oh yes, he goes around putting all the neighbours’ bins back once the council trucks have emptied the trash off them – which is very sweet of him. Whenever I mow the lawn (which I do love as it means burning a few calories without having to go to the gym), I suspect he thinks I am the oppressed wife. “What is the big boy doing? Is that not his job? Does he appreciate what you do? Oh he better! I hope he is making tea (meaning dinner)! You are a very good girl!!”  On days he sees both of us working on the garden, he tells big boy: “Well, you have a good apprentice there”. He catches me holding the spade this time!
*** I am reading Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Lowland. Into the first chapters and already feeling this is so going to be a “A House For Mr Biswas” types. Whenever I read Indian writers in English, I start mentally groaning, oh another satire on Indian …