Bric a brac

This page is the dumpster, the cavernous, faceless, identity-less posts that cannot be categorized easily into the other categories. They're not quite Travel, Food or Memoirs. They're not about Writing, they're certainly not Poetry or Fiction. Some are opinions pieces and right before I created this page they were tagged as "Opinion". However, not all of these are strictly opinions. Some are mere observations, others rants.

Anyway, here are all of those tired, unwashed and careworn denizens of this blog. I have to say some of these are not bad posts, it's just that they're like me; hard to define, or one could say, alphabetize, analyze, arrange, assort, brand, break down, catalogue, class, codify, distinguish, docket, file, grade, group, index, label,  match, order, organize, peg, pigeonhole, regiment, segregate, sort, systematize, tabulate, tag, ticket, type, typecast. You get the general idea, right?

That's not to say I haven't tried categorising them. Just don't blame me if the category doesn't quite fit the slot..... In other words, I am blameless in this matter.

I am? I do?

I am? I do? A question put to me the other day left me scratching me head. Not because I have dandruff or other head afflictions, but figuratively speaking I was left wondering. What was the question, you ask? “What do you like?” asked the interrogator. They went on to...Continue reading→

Is that a sport?

Well, here  we are again! Figure skating controversy at the Sochi Winter Olympics. Surprise! Shock! Horror! I must confess this post was started during the London Olympics and consisted of the following two paragraphs (to make it easier for the not-so-bright-at-understanding-long-sentences-in-English I’ve put them (the two paragraphs) in italics.) The...Continue reading→

The New Year

December has become the present. Just as November is the early present. The day after Halloween, stores change from orange and black to red and green, from the scary and gloomy to the bright and festive. Drivers become shoppers and shoppers forget parking skills. Good people become bad tempered louts....Continue reading→

The Date of the Jackal

Ashok found Meena fascinating. She, Meena, liked Jethro Tull. Ashok’s tastes were more Donna Summer’s gasping, moaning, sex-drenched disco. But Meena was friendly, liked Ashok’s company and a movie or two together ensued. One day, I was asked if I wanted to accompany them, in my usual role of chaperone...Continue reading→

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