Last night I decided to open up the bottle of D’Avignon that a friend brought home last week. Since Mukyala has decided that she does not want to become an alcoholic and that one drunk is enough for a house the size of ours, I was thinking, “this is the life!”
But alas, it was not all so smooth. I looked around for a cork screw and couldn’t find one. As if one had unpacked itself from the shelf of a shop someplace and taken a taxi to my place. I wanted to drink and I wasn’t getting any smooth answers to the conundrum.
So I got the knife.
Opening a wine bottle with a knife is something I could perfect, maybe, for a later career in the circus. I fought and fidgeted till I had cracked the neck. But not to be outdone, I got the broken piece off and transferred the contents to a Ribena bottle.If you happen to be in my hood sometime this week, around Entebbe ways, look around for a bottle of wine disguised as a bottle of Ribena.
And in other news…
Malaeka is growing violent. I don’t know if it means it is time to take her to boarding school yet. I mean, when she’s cranky, she pulls onto anything and no amount of pleading will convince her to release your nose or your ear or your eye!
What is really happening with our cops? I watched on TV last week and it was like 1984 all over again and I don’t mean Orwell’s book. In Uganda in 1984, we have been told that that shit with people running from cops was all too real.
And I am not explaining that title.