That's one of my criteria of getting a room in a house. Must have phoneline socket. Hopefully things will work it out with the landlord on Tue. If not, I'll probably stuffed up.
Working with so many oldies, many of them like to ask me if I've got any boyfriend and somewhat, they will start to relate their enduring love stories to me. Think I should start writing and compile them into a book.Who knows, I may make a profit out of it.
Love story of the week:
(*names have been changed to protect the privacy act)
Mrs Raj who is a chronic arthritis sufferer, stepped into the clinic 2 days ago for the first time to get her feet treated. "I was born in India in the 1930s," as she continued with a strong indian accent. "My dad passed away when I was only 11. It's only natural for my mom to be protective of me."
ME:" so your husband came along with you to Australia?"
Mrs Raj paused for a moment before she began her next sentence. " I was married to an English man and he died of cancer 4 years ago. I still miss him very much. He takes good care of me especially when I am sick. I think of him when I go for my Doctor's appointments. He was a good man. Before he died, he told my children to take care of me."
ME:" how did you get away from the olden times of India to marry a white guy?"
Mrs Raj:" I met him through a friend's friend. He was in the cricket team. He actually changed from staying in Royal English Force to Royal India Force to be with me. Even though I didn't want to stay in England, it was too cold for me. I told my mom I can trust him. But there were a lot of misconceptions of white guys being flirty, sex and sleep around. I had the best time of my life."
ME: trying hard not to sniff behind my mask.
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