Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Clean nursery beds

Boarding school had its moments. Like evening prep when the school neighbour would come home drenched in wine and demand from his wife:

-Mother of xy, why are the cabbage nursery beds unswept?-
His wife: -Now father of xy, it is which stories you are starting at night?-
The man would reply in great wisdom
-No, noo. Take a broom and sweep the paths, and between the seedlings. It is not good for them to look like that. I want them to look like a peeled yam-

The wife would get out, carrying a paraffin lamp (hold it for me), which would go out when she stepped out of the house. We would hear her sweeping around the nursery beds. We didn't laugh, we giggled.
I'd bet we were glad it was not our family next to the school.

In my first years of school I lived with a family next to my school teacher. He was unforgiving. When I failed in Maths, he would find a reason for my lack of high IQ.

- mm?  

     How do you expect to catch anything in class if you were all beating drums the entire night?-
They were a happy, funny family and they liked to sing spiritual songs, and to beat a drum on some nights.

I'm looking at my vegetable garden and thinking it needs a sweeping.

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