Monday was terrifying. Toodled to Tropical to get a battery. Van inspection at 1:30. Tropical said my battery was fine!
Rushed to ace mechanic Ronald Alleyne in Green Hill who made adjustments to improve starting.
Went up to Licensing Authority and was third in line. Used the public gents’ facility (at a Government place of business, mind you); it was spotlessly clean!
Walked up to the cashier, no wait, and was through inspection by ten past one. A port taxi-operator recognised A69 and introduced himself. “I read you every week,” he told me happily.
Bought parts at nearby Pine Hill Dairy. Prompt service. Bill was $60.87 but I didn’t have change. “Don’t worry about the 87 cents,” said the attendant.
Stopped by Chefette, Chah Rowe Bridge. No line.
A vagrant came in, making loud noises but didn’t hustle me, the only white man in the place!
Found ten cents in the parking lot. Got three gas bottles at the service station although I only had two empties. (In my area they won’t sell you gas unless you bring an empty.) Paid with a cheque. No one asked for I.D.
A friendly, pump attendant was chatting with a sewage truck driver about his work. “Well, mainly we transport sewage,” he told her. “Ohhh,” she replied, impressed, “I thought wunna only nused to haul sh–.”
I know what you’re saying. Such things don’t happen. Lowdown is dreaming. He’ll soon have to wake up and face the real Barbados.
Isn’t it weird that, with all the high tech, big-money wages, cellphones and computers, we expect everything not to work? Tradesmen don’t show up as arranged, don’t answer their phones.
One fellow was outraged because a homeowner, a banker by profession, got upset at his non-appearance. “Hoad, I promised to build kitchen cupboards for this man. He stayed home two days to meet me.
“But I had to get Lotto tickets and other things, so I didn’t go. And he playing he vex. If I don’t show up, I don’t get paid. Simple as that. So what’s his problem?”
Sir Leroy keeps insisting that workers should share in the ownership of the businesses where they’re employed.
Does this include the hoggish ones who drive away customers in droves? Like the sarcastic, or frankly insulting lady at a Sheraton store who gave my daughter horrors two days ago for returning a tube of silicone sealer which was dead on arrival?
(In contrast, the staff in the paints section were super nice.)
But all is not lost. Ricardo Burgess, a welder, contracted to build an implement for me, finished it on time, did a good job and didn’t hold out for more money. An exception in today’s world, but there are quite a few around.
Okay, a few bits and pieces. First, fond farewell to Dame Olga, a grand lady, our Mother Teresa of Barbados. Auntie Olga was always willing to fit another charitable act into her busy schedule. She went out of her way to help my daughter through a rough spot.
Happy birthday to sister Anne up in Canada.
She’s very proud that husband David is going to be a server “for the first time”.
One seems to recall David “Dog” Grant was well into that field from an early age in Fontabelle. But one could be wrong.
Some advice for Rihanna. Maybe you don’t care about the Barbados ambassador role that you never asked for. Maybe it doesn’t bother you that young girls consider you their idol and copy your every move.
But for your own good, don’t go too far down the shady lane. Men will drool until they get to see your dot com. Then they’ll make a mental note, “Been there, done that” and move on. Take it from one who has used vulgarity to achieve cheap popularity: it isn’t worth it.
Finally, a shout from brother Joe Hoad in Australia. Joe coaches severely handicapped sportsmen and was criticised for suggesting that a guy with one and a half legs and no hands should have a go at table tennis. Today the guy is Class 6 World Champion.
Which brings us to the Joe Hoad Theory: “Nothing is impossible if your grandmother was a woman!”
• Richard Hoad is a farmer and social commentator.
