The great countdown has begun, just twenty-five days until the birth of Our Lord. Fab. We've been invited to the Rev's native village for a few days after Christmas, some real India experience! It's off to the fields for us! Kumar is dead chuffed with us and thinks that it's hilarious that we are going.
I have developed a dreadful voice when I'm talking to people and get frustrated with trying to explain things. I must watch myself, I could start to sound really condescending. C. loves pointing things like this out to me, the hypocritical bastard. He sucks up to Kumar whenever I'm in a strop and then criticises me when he's having one of his own little moods. C. is a great sulker and has some really bizarre opinions. He is one of those people whom my Grandfather would say hasn't got a scientific mind. He is illogical, doesn't like to think about things and is totally unpractical. I like to think that I am a perfectionist, unfortunately, and I have an attention for detail that he can't stand.
Example:
Nic is going to come and stay with us for the weekend, and in our letter to her, giving her directions for our house, he said that it is 'light blue with red gates'. It isn't. It is white, the inside is light blue and the gates are definitely brown rather than red. Anyway, C. got pissed off and when I said "Alright, calm down" in my best Harry Enfield voice he started going on about there being no need to be petty. Pah. He is ruled by instructions. If the flit gun says don't inhale, sane advice of course, C. is out of the room before I've got the cap off!
But he is still a great teacher so I can't knock him too much. It's communal living, don'tcha just love it?
This morning we sat in on the Sunday class (Sunday School), with lots of small children singing Tamil worship songs, instead of going to church. I taught them We Are Marching while C. pretended to sing. It was much more interesting than sitting through babble for two hours, I must think of some more songs... The Rev. gave us an official welcome afterwards, more towels for our collection, and gave out some Bible Study and RE prizes. The pretty nurse from the hospital was there, is it fate? Is it meant to be? Or does she just go to church here because it's the only church here. Make up your own mind...
After that thrilling interlude, we spoke to some strange evangelist who is part of the Holy Spirit movement! He invited us to his house, I played some songs – though only because he asked me to – and we talked about Things. The professor would like him; he is very much against the CSI style of worship and of course it's the fault of the missionaries who, incidentally, were English. Therefore we must also be boring types who don't like to clap and dance when we are in worship. It took us a while to get him to stop evangelising us... He was a nice enough chap – gave me some tapes and a sticker – and C. a dodgy American magazine full of highly dubious stories of the laughing churches in Mexico.
Food is still a big problem; we're going to see if we can get someone to cook meat for us because vegetarian meals just don't work.
We had a choir practise tonight; it was quite good, but went on for two and a half hours! When I got back, C., Kumar and Yesu were playing cards and Arun was sitting on the bed looking very sorry for himself. He said that he'd had a fight with his girlfriend1 and wrote her a letter to make up:
"Dear Esmerelda,
Sorry
You don't angry
I love you
R. Arun."
If that doesn't work, nothing will...