I should like to concur with that little girl, whoever she was, back in the mists of time (Gracie Fields? Shirley Temple? someone of that ilk), who said that every day, in every way, things are getting better and better, or her life is, or some such - in other words we can learn a new lesson every day and move on to better things. Well today's lesson is humidity - that's humidity with a d - although actually it involves a fair bit of humility too.
I am moving, again, for the 397th time, and as is the norm I have little idea where I am moving to, other than my belongings will find their way to a friend's garage some time over the next couple of days. This has involved extracting a phenomenally large amount of clothes and bedding from the immense wardrobe-type thing in my room (who has been putting them in there?), and discovering where that odd smell has been coming from - mould. Mould caused by humidity. Particularly unpleasant was the (re)discovery of my leather trench coat, which has not stirred for some considerable time, and which reminded me somewhat of a Kuwaiti picnic.
I am moving, again, for the 397th time, and as is the norm I have little idea where I am moving to, other than my belongings will find their way to a friend's garage some time over the next couple of days. This has involved extracting a phenomenally large amount of clothes and bedding from the immense wardrobe-type thing in my room (who has been putting them in there?), and discovering where that odd smell has been coming from - mould. Mould caused by humidity. Particularly unpleasant was the (re)discovery of my leather trench coat, which has not stirred for some considerable time, and which reminded me somewhat of a Kuwaiti picnic.
.
This is his gourd!
.
Kuwaitis, amongst other people, enjoy their picnics, and habitually (at least when I was there, 20 years ago) drive down en famille of a Sunday morning (which is Friday in the Middle East) to the livestock market to pick up some grub for their Sunday (Friday) lunch. The livestock market at that time was an expanse of sandy car park next to a very large oil refinery (which, by the way, looked quite nice at night, lit up like a Christmas tree, from the Indian restaurant on the top floor of the block over the road).
They haggle over a sheep, and then stick it, live, in the boot of their Cadillac, then drive off into the desert, string it up by the side of the road on one of the few bushy trees, butcher, cook, and eat it, then drive home again, air-conditioned, leaving the inedible bits in a pile for the flies and other bugs to swarm over.
They haggle over a sheep, and then stick it, live, in the boot of their Cadillac, then drive off into the desert, string it up by the side of the road on one of the few bushy trees, butcher, cook, and eat it, then drive home again, air-conditioned, leaving the inedible bits in a pile for the flies and other bugs to swarm over.
This is what my coat looked like.
Erm - actually it's not my cross.
I have spent the afternoon washing and trying to dry copious quantities of mouldy bedding and clothes- so if you have not aired your mattress recently, or those clothes lying in the corner, then I strongly recommend you do so now.
By a happy coincidence, it was announced a couple of days ago that the rainy season is now officially over, so we have a window of opportunity before the typhoon season hits.
See? Not so bad once you're up!
