After  posting those atrocious puns I got properly ticked off by a few regular readers. So introspection time.

I've always had a weakness for groaners but I have to admit that they're usually not ha-ha funny. Funny is something like this Wiodehouse gem "Lord Emsworth could conceive of no way in which his son Frederick could be of any use to a dog biscuit firm, except possibly as a taster."

And yet I find groaners to be a great source of amusement. A kink in  my character, no doubt.

Probably stems from a troubled childhood. I was once punished for cutting my neighbour's hair in third grade craft class. And I did a great job too, byt the lad's mother took a dim view of the happenings - strange, because I distinctly remember doing it for free - and created no end of a ruckus, demanding that my parents be summoned and reprimanded.

 My parents of course refused to turn up but my mother very sportingly offered to pay for shaving the guy bald. This further angered auntyji, for some reason, but by this time everyone from the principal down were heartily sick of all that scremaing and shouting and I was sentenced to write "I will not cut anyone's hair" one hundred times, cruelly cutting short what was surely a promising career in the hair-stylist industry. Just the other day Yves St, Laurent was lamenting the lack of good hair professionals in the industry.

Anyway, all that is neither here nor there. The missus is temporarily absent, having decamped to Mysore and Bangalore for a week. We are all missing her terribly of course, and here's a video to prove it. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WSnnu8Za6y8


They're having exams too. The older son has his Class X exams - the boards -  coming up. Currently they're conducting "prelims" which is sort of net practice. He is ice cool and considers it beneath himself to show any sign of fear or panic, thank goodness.

The younger son also has some species of tests at school but he is even more cool. He has developed a fascination for a genre of music called death metal which involves, as far as I can see, screaming in different keys. The older son and I call it POWA music - acronym for Piles Operation Without Anaesthetic - which is what we are reminded of when we listen to those bright little compositions.

What else?.... Oh yes, on the weekend I went with some friends to this very trendy place called The Blue Frog. They had a DJ playing what is called electronica music. I was sipping a beer called Hoegaarden which looked a lot like sugarcane juice. It tasted very nice though. Very different. And after 5 or 6 of them, very communicative. I started spotting lyrics in the electronica music. Very strange lyrics I must say. For instance, one number went "I am a lingayat". I swear that's what the voice kept saying over and over again. I was ticked off by my friends for being sloshed, but I am sticking to my story. The next number was "idlis don't bite" but by this time, I was gently ushered into the car and driven home.

The missus is back tomorrow. She keeps calling - "to check-up on the kids", she says - but she wants the low down on all that I'm up to. She misses me, which makes me feel kind of nice.


And I miss her too.