On Colonialism

Well it was a fairly long stint, but I'm now capitally reformed. Crusty prisoner #ST50326 has completed his stay in Cell Block 2H (Cluster B). So I can resume these online shenanigans. So much to share (with so few). And a quick Cheerio to warden Wee Pin Me – thanks for the memories.

So The Hillbilly has gone all Colonial.

That’s right, wifey can no longer be referred to as The Maid. So we revert (as they say around these parts) to her formal title: The Minister for Fun and Finance.

And as it turns out, The Minister for Fun & Finance decided that Singapore Slings by the pool each afternoon was too much hard work. So she’s found a job. I think she’s the Tinkerbell at the school. Why an 8 year old needs a guidance counselor is a bit beyond me. I mean, how does that conversation go?

“Hi there little feller. So what is your name?”

“Spiderman.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. My name is Spiderman. So teacher said I need to come and see you.”

“So when did you become Spiderman?”

“When God told me so.”

(At which point the kid out in the waiting room calls out “I did not!”)

And being good at what she does, what started out as a part time Tinkerbell gig, has turned into full time work.

So we got a real maid.

Actually a really scary maid.

(Which if you’ve read any of my previous work, was probably all part of the Minister for Fun & Finance’s cunning plan.)

So one of my big challenges these days is when I wearily plod in through the front door in the evenings, not to show the fright when I catch a glimpse of our Domestic Helper.

That’s right.

Not only is Puzzle Palace becoming more and more sanitized, politically correct and otherwise part of the greater feminization of the world, I am now instructed by the Minister that we should use the appropriate term for our new employee: “Domestic Helper”.

Well chaps, I’d be keen to prattle on further … but the DH has just saddled up the horses. I’d better fetch the hounds and join Algernon and Winston for this afternoon’s hunt.