You do not know how very excited I am to be writing this review. Very. Excited. I have been looking forward to writing this review since forever. I mean, how do you write the review of a book that you have not read?
I started reading Midnight’s Children sometime in the first week of January this year. You read that correctly. It has taken me eight good months to finish the book. Eight months of reading other books and doing other things. Like I said here, my reading list this year, as far as the book reviews on this blog are concerned, would consist solely of winners of the Man Booker Prize (or Booker Prize). Add me up on Facebook for non-Man-Booker-Prize-winners book reviews.
She was propped against the pillow with folded arms. She took a deep breath.”I need to have a pleasant disposition so that Junior is not born grumpy’. She patted her swollen tummy lovingly. He stood at the foot of the bed. She pulled off her spectacles and placed them on the dresser. “I suppose you came home around this time yesterday. I replied my last chat at 10.48pm. It is 11.45pm now. I started watching Tangled around 11.00pm yesterday night. I remember you carrying me of to bed”. He grunted in response.
She sighed. “You came back later?” She stretched her arms. “Come here.” She gave him a hug and patted his back gently. “I love your big head.” He tickled her playfully and pulled her up from the bed. “I love you too.” She pulled away from him and dragged herself towards the wardrobe. She pulled out a towel and threw it at him. She nodded in the direction of the bathroom. “Now.” He went to take his bath, and she picked out his pyjamas and laid it on his side of the bed. She fluffed her pillow and dove under the duvet. She felt him slip in beside her.
‘How was work?’ She moved closer to him. He let her rest her head in the crook of his elbow.
‘Great.’ She pulled at his facial hair. “I don’t know what to think about this your hashtag beard gang.’ He chuckled. ‘I am tempted to give a testimony in church’. He wrinkled his forehead. ‘Okay?’
One day spent in your house, this beautiful place of worship,beats thousands spent on Greek island beaches. I’d rather scrub floors in the house of my God than be honored as a guest in the palace of sin. All sunshine and sovereign is God, generous in gifts and glory. He doesn’t scrimp with his traveling companions. It’s smooth sailing all the way with God-of-the-Angel-Armies.
He let himself into the house quietly. He turned around and locked the door as quietly as he could. The lights in the living room had been dimmed but the television cast light on the sofa opposite it. His wife sat on the seat close to the arm. Her head rested on the back pillows. Her clasped hands rested underneath her slightly protruding belly and she crossed her legs at the ankles. He took two steps away from the door. She stirred. He stilled. He waited for a couple of minutes before he took another step. Then another, and another, until he was standing behind the sofa. Her head tilted to the left. She was going to hit the arm rest of the sofa. He put out his hand to break her fall. She muttered inaudibly and readjusted her position. She propped her head with her elbow on the armrest. He heaved a sigh of relief. Continue reading “CAB – PART 3”→
He relaxed in the driver’s seat as he waited for her to carry on with her shopping for a new dress. If she shopped like the women he knew, she would definitely be late for her meeting. He was just beginning to drift to sleep when some scratch at the door interrupted him. What now? He relaxed a bit when he discovered that she was back. And she had changed clothes already. At least, he had made up for letting her stay in the rain longer than she should have by letting her take the umbrella in his car. It was still drizzling. Today looked like a very wet day, and his subsequent riders would be in need of the umbrella. He wasn’t one to gamble but he was willing to bet that for every two rider that had an umbrella, one other rider would either forget their umbrella or assume that the rain would remain a light drizzle. He signed resignedly. That one rider would be really disappointed today as he had no umbrella for him. Or her.
She must have read his thoughts. ‘Oh! And thank you so much. I bought an umbrella for myself.’ She then waved his umbrella at an angle at which he could see it from his front seat and made a show of dropping in the boot. ‘What do you think about the outfit?’