Monday, 2 March 2009


Monty Python never dies. The world 'luxury!' evokes nearly as universal a response as mention of dead parrots.

There is no doubting that the cappucino I am cradling, nicknamed "The Penultimate" (yes, I have got to the point of naming and crooning!), is a luxury. But it got me thinking about how utterly relative luxury is. The things that look like luxuries here don't at home. It all depends on where you're standing. So I thought I would take a moment to notice that a bit.

From Georgetown, these things seem like unimaginable luxury:
-A lie-in
-Hot water, to get the dishes dry or the clothes really clean
-Energy between 10a.m. and 4p.m.
-A trip to the cinema
-Dogs that ever shut up
-A state of being which doesn't involve itching
-Fresh milk
-Live music (even at Mashramani, nearly all the music was canned)
-A room of two's own
-A roast chicken dinner

But on the other hand, in Georgetown, I have these luxuries I could hardly have imagined in the previous life:
-Time; to spend, to kill, to waste and to fritter
-The magic mosquito net tent every night
-Families playing street cricket at sunset
-Great enjoyment of little things (The Penultimate's brief life is over, but I applaud it nevertheless!)
-A collection of P.G. Wodehouses that exceeds even my father's
-A husband I see every single day
-Mangoes that fell straight from heaven
-Enough sunshine to warm even my cold clammy bad moods!
-Fighting green parrots swooping round the city centre
-Tapir taxis- possibly the cutest and most impractical vehicle ever
-Waking up in the morning with NO idea what today's adventure will be

... which, of course, gets me to pondering about whether these luxuries have to be confined to different lives, or whether I'm just a twit who isn't very talented at making the most of what she's got! But then, it's a rare person who is. Lucky me; I'm married to one!

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