Dumpie is currently pacing among the coconut trees in our front yard, walkie talkie pressed to left ear, conducting an imaginary (but heated) conversation with his beloved 'Auntie Ba'. As far as I can gather it has to do with him informing her of his immanent arrival to Toronto via motorbike to airport then airplane. He is trying to ensure that she has enough 'Timbits' (mini donuts), 'La-la's' (bananas) and mangoes ('like the kind Da give me') ready for his welcoming party.
No, my youngest has not lost the plot, but is rather high on kiddie Tylenol after being up all night with a fever. So he is staying home from Kindergarten today. And Dada and I have had to sorrowfully cancel the couples massage we had booked on the beach for midday (sigh). Life is hard.
Our friends flew back to London this morning after having spent a luxurious month in glorious Goa. They were gutted to leave, and are already planning their next visit.
So now we have little to do but wait for the arrival of 'Franny & Framps' (the husbands parents, my in-laws). They arrive in just under three weeks.
The husband has now grown despondent over his flash Thai-manufactured bike and spends more time fixing punctures than actually riding. So he's decided that an Enfield motorcycle must be purchased after all (and here I thought we'd lessened the chances of becoming roadkill by his preference for bicycles over motorbikes this past year).
I suspect that our lovely motorbike ride through pretty villages en route to a deserted magnificent beach yesterday had something to do with his renewed love affair for motorised two wheelers. I have to admit, it was fun. It felt like the old days....
Picturesque scenery, prettier than you could even conjure up in your imagination...the speed of the bike providing you with your own personal air conditioning...the freedom...the adventure.
Who are we kidding. The husband and I LOVED riding an Enfield through India those many years ago, and now, slicing through the dusty roads this many years later, it feels like no time has elapsed and it was beyond fun.
So...now the husband has informed me that he is seriously thinking of going to the big Wednesday Goa flea market tomorrow and procuring a motorbike 'for the family'. Because we need one. Because it would be stupid not to.
Maybe I should ask Auntie Ba's advice. She's apparently still on the walkie talkie with Dumps. I think he's now moved on to extolling the virtues of Indian manufactured 'Honey Loops' breakfast cereal (a vile smelling, probably horrid tasting version of Kellogs best seller).
Oops - got to go. Dumpie's just rocked up with the walkie talkie. And it's my Dad on the phone. Dumps is telling him to get over here because it's hot here and there are mangoes. And lots of cows.
He's not wrong.