Sunday Morning Perusings

Here I sit on Sunday morning. Sam's Town by The Killers is blasting out at a level that only a half deaf drummer could deal with comfortably. It's a few months since I've listened to this album properly and it suits my energised mood right now.

I went to bed with a smile on my face, a feeling of excitement and discovery in my left brain and a stomach jam packed with way too much Indian food. It could have been a dangerous night but all turned out nice and peaceful.

You see old Aunt Onetruecoolguy is down here in London for a few days and I trotted off with her and her husband last night to see that play thing, Mixed Routes, with Nimmi Harasgama. I may try to do some kind of review of the play, rather that trio of plays, later in the week. For now I'll just carry on telling you "pimped up diary" kind of stuff. I will tell you that the plays were rather entertaining and seriously thought provoking.

Being a bit of a thicko I didn't really get the last one, but it did have the most sublime salsa dancing which I was quite content to sit and enjoy. That's one of the good things about being me. Luckily old Aunt Onetruecoolguy's husband explained to me afterwards that it was about Guantanamo Bay and all then became clear. I think he was in a kindly mood towards me because I had bought a packet of watermelon flavoured jelly things before the play and the two of us fairly demolished them.

Java, I passed on your regards to Nimmi, she returned them in that dramatic way that all these acting types do so well. And I finally met Dhammika of Thinkfreed. It's true, he is rather huge and had to book two seats for him and his pot belly. Nice chap though and I wanted to talk more to him afterwards but he was nowhere to be seen.

As any of us would predict the audience was largely made up of Sri Lanka Diaspora. Everyone knew each other and there were only two Sri Lankans in the theatre who weren't related to each other. I guess these things happen sometimes, rare as it is.

Then, when I woke this morning I did that lazy sarong clad trek to the bathroom for that early morning pee, you know the one when you rub the sleep out of your eyes and feel a bit curious about what the world's going to hold in store for you today, all the while trying to tie the old sarong. And, as I walked past the long window at the top of my stairs I did a double take at what I saw.

White powder, more than I've witnessed at some of the more dodgy band practices I've been to, was fluttering in a downward direction and there was lots of it. I went to another window, as my dodgy rented house has more than one of them, and saw pretty thick snow covering the ground, with a sky that looked full of it. A couple of hours later as I peer out it's still falling and still settling. I must admit it makes me a tiny bit sad. It brought back memories of the girls when they were younger. Of how a flurry like this would make them jump out of bed and run out to have a snowfight and build a snowman.

I'm not sure if they're too old for that kind of behaviour now. They may well be staring at it with wide open eyes, or they might be just blase and matter of fact about it. I might even find out when they reply to my texts!

We'll see!