Did You Box My Granddaughter?

          a “moo” in the daytime

Let me set the scene : Picture our little street (moo) with three large dogs lolling around like miniature lions, licking their chops and staring at my partner’s one-and-a-half-year-old granddaughter. Night and its shades are all around and we have been swimming. Alice, the granddaughter, though not hungry, is tired but intent on adventure. The adventure involves sprinting around our moo, up and down and down and up, pointing at the lions, bending down to look in the drains which house frogs, mosquitoes, bacteria, water-logged rubbish and maybe one or two crocodiles.

          one of the “lions”

(After all, this is the dark side of Pattaya and it has been lashing it down almost every day for the last two months. It’s monsoon-time with a vengeance.) I ask Alice to forego more adventure, come inside the garden gate. Her response is highly unreasonable. The lions are still staring at her and she wants to approach to within chomping distance. There again, an approaching car offers adventure in the form of not being seen while you fall under its wheels. I have asked Alice seven or eight times so picking her up I bring her inside and lock the gate. All hell breaks loose so consoling her, we arrive within sight of my partner who has just showered.

“Did you box her?” I’m asked. I’m almost sure my predicament registers with Alice, too, because she raises her head and surveys me with a look that seems to say, “Ooops, there’s trouble brewing here.” I mutter that it’s beyond me to box a baby but that Alice just wouldn’t come inside. I mutter other things like, “Me? Accused of aggression towards a baby girl?!” (self-righteous stuff).

It all took me back to my separation and divorce in darkest Italy. There, I wasn’t believed and my ex-wife could say anything, and did. Trust and a solid relationship (read friendship) are so important when the shades of night fall, dogs stare at babies, and you’re on your own asking a two-year-old to be reasonable.

Is it possible for babies to acknowledge in their dim-witted and baby-brains that they have dropped you in it, and is it possible to bend down and ask them to tell the truth? Of course it is (be consoled!) but it won’t make a scrap of difference if your woman is out to get you.

                    one bottle

The evening passed in a peaceful fashion. I drank a bottle of Tiger beer (5%), and a bottle of Singha beer (3.5%), ate too much and went to sleep on a full stomach with acid reflux at the ready. Now, some hours later, I’m writing my post with some bicarbonate in my stomach, and Alice and my partner Na are sleeping like babies in the other room. Eeer, one baby and a forty-three-year-old Asian gal.

          the other bottle

And that’s about it, folks. Happy ending as usual for Finch HERE IN ASIA!!!

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