She sat at the far end of her high ceilinged room. I sat on her prefered chair.

We stared at each other.

Her hundreds of books were piled upon a just cleaned black wooden floor.

What was that with the light? ahh yes, clean windows- she had gone and gotten herself a window cleaner.

' I'm  listening to ''Bring me the head of Philip K Dick'' again' she says...

'I waited but you never came- I waited awhile- though  in vain.' I said

'a bit of Leninist stick bending... that moves it to the point!' she said.

 'Central to this objection is your reaction...' I said.

 ' A bit of ''Leninist stick bending'' that moves it to Its required point!' she asserted. 

Later...

...she has interests in too many men for me to feel comfortable -tearing naan while watching whom she is watching.

...while her attention 'flickers' from lady-boy waiter to lady-boy waiter I surreptitiously douse her sag-aloo with chili oil....ha!

...tears of mirth fill my eys while watching her convulse and regurgitate green over the legs of a startled 'object of desire'

...I chew the corner of the menu to stifle my guffaws

...she pours water over her mouth and spits out more food in the direction of her cupped hands,  sweat hangs over her swollen lips

...I rise from my seat and push the sodden bill in her direction: ''Your shout'' I say as I head towards the toilets.

Words and foto T. Carroll