Luck of the Yer-wish

Yer lucky


For all my insistence on ex-pat times are tough, my older wiser colleagues who stepped on and off the boat before me, remind me; of times of no satellite TV to homeland channels, no instant dial telephone to home, no supermarket stacking Heinz baked beanz as a 'norm', no Cornflakes leading the Hypermarket Sales drive.


They stared potholes in a road, the locals called a road and the Europeans called a dirt track. Expats that were not tourists, were not travellers, were adventurers. N ow once in a while as adventurers they stared them in the face of adversity; from a car jacked up with a spare tyre looking bare of tread.
They sought guidance on a monthly basis at a designated time to a European home office after they made the round trip to a phone, to phone home with an echoing hum and a raising of a vooce in a futile attempt to bridge an ocean. A phoning home to confirm funeral arrangenments could be postponed for another month, whilst the home office made their round trip to the suburbs and felt a hob well done was being done by somebody else... and the credit was made in the weekly ceo report and the point to all this ......therefore daily the adventurers felt that the sharp end was pointy.


And so my winges are by comparison those of a spoilt child, but human nature will help me overcome my guilt. I want my Cadbury's chocolate cake and I want to eat it.