Tuesday, September 13, 2016

The place where much is said...


I have a love hate relationship with my car. It’s big, a thirteen seater minibus. Its old, about sixteen years now. It just about manages to get through it’s road test each year although it has left me red faced by the side of the road too many times for me to forgive.

One occasion was when the handbrake wouldn’t release, imagine lurching down the road with the rear wheels locked. Another occasion was when it over heated on a freeway. I had to drive it the wrong way down the emergency lane to attract the attention of a policeman who managed to call me a pick up.

I had noticed that the exhaust was a little noisier than usual. After a few short errands the nosiness had evolved into a deep guttural growl befitting a Ferrari but not a Kia minibus. So I headed off to the auto repair centre where my faithful and long suffering mechanics profit from my reluctance to buy a decent car.

“It’ll take about half an hour to fix the rotted pipe” I was told.
“Ok, I can pick it up after Namaz” I said, mindful of Friday prayers.
“ You can sit here, drink tea, go shopping, wait until after prayers, do what you like, it’ll be ready soon.”
“I’ll take some photos” I said and smiled.
“Do whatever you want” these guys are used to me perusing their workshops for subject material, camera in hand.

So here’s the chair they sit on…..

Watercolour on paper.

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