The last week has been one of playing house, obtaining all
the bits and bobs we need to live for the next 5 months. After all we can’t eat out every night, which
would sort of defeat the point of living out here.
Obviously there are things we have bought with us,
essentials which can’t be bought here in India e.g. good coffee, Gillette
Fusion razor blades, Heinz tomato sauce, etc. all the important expat things
which life would be so much the poorer for having to go without. Everything else
requires a trip to Trivandrum to one of the big supermarkets/department stores.
There are three main supermarkets in town, Pothys (John Lewis/Waitrose), The
Big Bazaar (ASDA/Debenhams/Lidl hybrid) and Spencer’s (confusingly more like Sainsburies
than M&S) and we tend to use either Pothys or the Big Bazaar as they have a
department store thing going on so you can just do the one stop shop thing,
vital when doing “the big shop”. Yes I know, I can hear you from hear “…but
what about the wonderful markets, haggling over the price of organically grown
local produce, the local colour!!! Surely the supermarkets are a westernised
cop out!!!”
Too bloody right they are, they are also air conditioned,
relatively dust and grime free, and have all the aisle signs up in English so
you don’t spend hours mowing up and down the same row looking for a bag of
sugar in the insecticide section.
There is a time and place for local colour, and “The Big
Shop” isn’t it. It’s a commando operation, list, plan, in, out, not a recreational
activity, so with Ravi piloting the tuk-tuk off we went. Knowing from all great
military actions an army marches on its stomach and the maxim of never shop
hungry, the first stop was breakfast at a restaurant, masala dosas and chai all
around then onward to Pothys. It was a two trolley shop, plastic containers by
the dozen (not very eco but I prefer my food sans ants) , mops, cleaning equipment
and potions (next to the aisle of Gillette Products), basic spices (found next
to the Heinz Tomato Sauce), dhal, chapatti flour (by the fresh coffee bean
grinding section). It took about 3 hours and by the end we were both tired but
headed home with a feeling of accomplishment, a job well done.
Once home we unpacked which took almost as long as the
shopping trip. At which point we realised that the shopping on full stomachs
has its downside, we had full cupboards but nothing for dinner so we went out
to eat.
The Washing Machine
Last winter we sent all our laundry to a little man who
lived down the lane, for £5 he would pick it up, wash it, iron it and return it
all within two days. Occasionally there would be burrs in my underpants from
them being dried on the bushes but in the main it was a great service. However,
this year it has gone up to £9, which prompted some swift maths, cost of
laundry £9 x 20 = £180 verses cost of washing machine @ £150.
So we decided to
buy a cheap(ish) washing machine. Ravi picked us up as usual, obviously we
needed to stop for breakfast (cost £5) as the “never shop on an empty stomach”
maxim had worked so well previously and then on to the Big Bazaar. We found a
rather nice looking LG Automatic top-loader for £159 but with some careful
haggling, sucking of teeth and judicious hurmphing managed to beat the salesman
down to £149 with discount. Obviously we also needed an iron which was another £6,
powder £4, conditioner £3, oh and a tap £2 to plumb the washer in as none of
the taps in the house fitted the fill pipe adaptor.
The machine was delivered the same day and after much
swearing was connected up and running (obviously ignoring the initial abortive
load which resulted in the washer emptying onto the floor as the pipe wasn’t
pushed far enough into the waste trap) in a couple of hours. So… total cost
inc. Taxi to Trivandrum. £149 + £5 + £6 + £4 + £3 + £2 + £10 = £170 a grand
saving of £10 (ignoring electricity and water and assuming we don’t need any
more powder, obviously from next year we will be quids in!! as long as it is still
here, working and survives the monsoon.)
A Bargain!!!!
Three tea bags and a roll of dental floss
At what point did three pyramid tea bags and a roll of
dental floss become a swimming costume? Having had my briefs on occasion ride
up into the crack of my bum and found it at least disconcerting I’m sure it can’t
be comfortable and yet there appear to be more 18 to 25 year old women on the
beach this year who feel a bit of dental floss is a costume. From their faces I
know they are in discomfort as none of them look particularly happy and to relieve
the situation they seem to need to wander along the edge of the beach wiggling
their buttocks, presumably in an attempt to re-jig the bit of string.
Maybe its
because most of them are on holiday with their dads and grand fathers (funny none of their moms
are around) and they would rather be off with their mates than sitting on a
beach with an old bloke with a bit of cotton wedged up their admittedly tanned
and pert bums.
The prettiest costume I have seen this year was a short floral
swim skirt and bikini top, playful, sexy and on the right body stunning and the
Russian bloke who was wearing it looked fantastic.
Ho hum, time for breakfast
Cheery pip
Kevin
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