TB and chickpeas

Hubby is languishing in bed beside me and it's only about half past eight here. He thinks he has TB - which may be true, given the amount of hawking and gobbing that goes on in the streets here - but he may just have Twin 1's cough, which she infected us all with in Pokhara (except for Son, who has the immune system of a crocodile ie. has evolved out of catching infections). 

Anyway, now the Monsoon is over it's a bit chilly once the sun's gone down in our big old marble edifice, so bed is the best place to be after about seven o'clock. We were in bed at a similar time last night (and not because of any pre-planned rumpy-pumpy, just because we are a bit useless). Already I'm dreading the winter and planning a big trip to the cashmere shop when the next pay cheque comes in.

Our driver has gone and broken his leg. Not sure how. Maybe it was in desperation at the thought of having to come back to work for us after his Deshain break, in the way that - rumour has it - some squaddies do when faced with yet another operational tour (actually in a previous posting the next door neighbour's daughter's boyfriend broke his arm deliberately so he wouldn't have to go away on exercise, and he ended up being sent to military prison. I did wonder whether throwing yourself down some concrete stairs and then spending a couple of months in jail was really worth it for the sake of avoiding spending three weeks away from your girlfriend...is that the price of true love? I believe they are married now, so maybe it is). I'm not entirely sure how he broke it, or even if it is broken or this is just a big ruse as he can't face the return to the school run (not sure I can either, but equally can't face hurling myself off the balcony to avoid it; do you think a small cut on the finger would get me out of early morning duties for a few weeks?) Anyway, he sent a friend along to drive for us whilst he is off with his leg in plaster. The new chap seems very nice, but nevertheless, I had no references or anything, but needs must and all that, so let him drive me and the kids and another family out for the day today. Luckily he turned out to be neither a car thief nor a psychopath.

We went to Boudha, which is a massive Buddhist stupa (big white dome thing) on the other side of town. Aside from Twin 2 deciding to have an imaginary poo in the middle of the street, and Son pretending the prayer wheels were spaceships - oh, and Twin 1 doing a real poo in the middle of the cafe - it all went quite well. 

When we got home (with all our limbs intact and without the car being sold on to be used in a heist), Sunil the tailor turned up with a half-made cocktail dress for me. Turns out he hadn't been abducted by aliens after all - which I assumed could be the only excuse for him suddenly disappearing off the planet since our last meeting when I tasked him with making a couple of dresses for me - he was just on his Deshain break (for four weeks!). He said he probably wouldn't finish the dress until after Teehar - the next lengthy public holiday, due in about ten days time. I think he must be over-charging if he can afford to have so many holidays. Either that or he's using his at-home dressmaking service as a cover for drug delivery and doesn't really give a stuff about my cocktail dresses.  Still, at least he's honest about not really wanting much work at the moment (he declined to make me three skirts), and not claiming injuries in order to avoid contact with the flaky woman with her manic son and evil twin daughters, which I suspect might be the case with Bishu Ram, our 'medically downgraded' driver.

By the time Hubby came home, Son was zoned in on a DVD, Twins were dancing to 'Barbie Girl' and I was looking for thermal pajamas on ebay. We were all so engrossed we had almost forgotten about supper time. Meena had promised to surprise us with something...and the surprise was...chickpeas and potatoes (mmmm, yummy, just the kind of thing the kids love - erm, not). When I commented that the spicy thing with chickpeas was a bit dry, Hubby said, "Yes, but chickpeas are always like that", as if he's an expert on chickpea cuisine. I don't think he's even eaten one before this evening. He's just on a love-in with Meena because she made him some homemade onion soup at lunchtime whilst we were out. And carrot cake. And what do I get? Chickpea and potato surprise...If I wasn't around they would probably have some kind of wierd gastronomic love affair, involving devilled kidneys and fishnet stockings. 

Doesn't bear thinking about.