We now have neighbours. Our house is one of two on a single plot with a shared gated entrance and garden. We’d rather hoped the other house would stay vacant. It was not to be. We dreaded being saddled with a couple of old reactionaries; all head scarves, clashing florals and disapproving looks. We’re mightily relieved that Vadim and Beril are delightful arty types from Ankara. Vadim plays the bongos (or whatever the Turkish equivalent is) with talented gusto and Beril looks like she dropped too much acid in the Sixties. We engage in lots of pointing and demented waving of hands. They hardly speak a word of English and, of course, our grasp of Turkish remains lamentably poor. We’ve agreed to have a dictionary do over a bottle or three to exchange random words just for the hell of it. The ruder the better, I hope.
Drums and Drugs
6 thoughts on “Drums and Drugs”
Ah reminds me of a night in Moscow with a Russian tennis coach in 95 who spoke not a word of English. Remarkable what can come of pointing at words in a dictionary.
Sounds oh! so familiar.
You might just find, though, that the jungle drums will pall (in a matter of days…)
Well you’re off to an auspicious beginning, so here’s to hoping it works out well! (No fisticuffs if you all don’t agree on the beverages of choice.)