Good Convent Girl
Good Convent Girl
An interesting offer😀😀
To follow interesting experiences of Praxy and Deepthie
Bring to your attention, a dilemma I faced, an uncommon story!
Unlike the two descriptions before, no sexual connotations here
Yet similar to theirs, the ‘Raising a toast’ too, is an authentic tale
Background was a retirement party, in a Manor House in Yorkshire
A distinguished, respected physician, was leaving after years forty
Erudite compassionate service celebrated by friends and colleagues
In a grand manner, gents clad in black tie, ladies mimicking fairies
It was customary to invite only close friends and the distinguished
The City Mayor headed the table cladded with his regal paraphernalia
I was included for being ‘The Trust lead Clinician in communication’
Crystal chandeliers, well laden tables, plenty of painted faces, very happy
In spite of soothing music and glittering razzmatazz, I truly felt a bit uneasy
The rest of the gathering were quite animated and vociferously happy
Ladies each dropping hints pompously about the richness of the hubby
Hints of royal connections, new acquisitions of grand mansions and horses
Gossip was dull, to the lad from ‘Narigama’ yet pretended to be a well-healed bunny!
By class as well as physique, I was truly ‘a page boy’ among the knights, shining
However British sense of restrain and pretentious equanimity probably saved my bacon
Glances by man seated across dinning table raised my eye brows and a bit of concern
His sardonic gestures and irritating stares were silently questioning, my inclusion
Must confess, though hail from south of ‘Bentara Ganga’ with toughness and determination
There were few nervous beads of sweat popping, bothering my upper lip and concentration
Alas, time arrived to ‘raise a toast’ to the most decorated physician and colleague, leaving
The brute in front took his chance for a sarcastic shot at me, when all stood up for ‘toasting’
Everyone was ‘raising a toast, with a glass red or white wine, in their right hand
Being a proud ‘teetotaller’ I did the same, but a glass of orange in place of wine
The brute in front took his opportunity to teach, ‘non-pale faced village kolla’ a lesson
For every ones attention he snarled at me, ‘you raise a toast, not with orange but wine’!
Because of my habit of reading bizarre things during my inquisitive childhood
Flashes of anger and a sober thought were equally tying to get my attention
Had in my mind the reason why the term ‘ toast’ was used to honour someone
Of repute specially when they are hanging their boots and leaving the colloquial ring
When giant of a pale face proud man, was trying to hint the crowd my unworthiness
To be among the good and the great of the high society, in the most polite voice,
I did challenge the guy who was nagging me over the glass of orange In my hand,
Whether he would be polite enough to explain us the relevance of raising a toast!
A sudden bombshell like silence changed the entire atmosphere
The lady paediatrician who too was annoyed by this brute’s gesture
Saw the pale face become red and knew it wasn’t entirely due to sips of wine
More joined, willing him to give ‘the village kolla’s question, an answer credible
I may be five foot nothing but started to feel like a giant of eight or nine
Fair number of colleagues joined pestering for an answer, he was mumbling
Finally with his proud tail tucked between the two massive muscles glutei
Turned to me, crest fallen and admitted of ignorance, of toast, wine connection
I knew that mighty prey is now well and truly stuck between my jaws
But to suit the occasion realised benevolence is better than being pompous
Gently narrated the origin of the concept of raising a toast to a good fellow in society
Hope you do not mind if I give text of my ‘victorious proud presentation’ in summary
In the twelfth century quality of wine and ale was not palatable
No where near the sweetness one tastes today in a good tipple
Was a common practice to dip spiced toast to draw out bad flavours
A young man once quite high lost his piece of toast in his drink for hours
When remembered he could not believe his eyes the horrible concoction
Has now become a clear fluid in glass the toast peace left at bottom
When sipped the fluid tasted completely free of horrible taste or smell
As in few hours piece of toast had completely purified the drink ‘wine’
So to indicate if a person had been a good soul to the society clearing the mess
The term raising a toast was used when lifted the bloke to indicate his good deeds
Signifies that the society became honourable and worthy because of ‘ his actions’
The term toast joined the vocabulary to express the gratitude to those humble souls
HOLIDAY FIREWORKS FROM THE HOPPER HOUSE !
Those were hot🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞 April Avrudu 🇱🇰🇱🇰🇱🇰🇱🇰days , back in the Hopper 🍛🍛🍛House ,🏠🏠🏠🏠when we girls 👩👩👧👦👩👩👦👦used to study , out on the balcony, burning the midnight oil .🕐🕐🕐
We would drag out our chairs, table lamps🏮🏮sit out on the balcony in small study groups, and cram away, Peacefully, way into the warm tropical night .⚫️⚫️
No- Not Really ..
Not all were Sleeping in Heavenly Peace 🛏🛏🛏 it seems……
Some ‘ Restless Lovers 🚶🚶🚶🚶‘ – ( to use Narme’s words ! ) but, we used to call them ‘ Sarong Johnnies , would come by, stand under the lamp post on De Saram place , in front of Hopper House ,🥞🥞🏠 making funny noises and doing things , playing with their ‘Thing’ under the sarong .
It was a while before us Hopper House Good Convent Girls ( not from St Anthony’s Convent )-⛪️⛪️⛪️clued into what was going on ! and it irritated us , 🤷🏻♀️🤷🏻♀️🤷🏻♀️disturbed our peaceful study groups .
Many methods 👯♂️👯♂️were used to discourage these “ Restless Lovers- Sarong Johnnies ‘—including our night watchman Mr Perera, who would go out chasing them off from time to time, , police officers 👨🏼✈️👨🏼✈️👨🏼✈️chasing them away etc . etc .
Nothing worked – and a Restless Bunch they were, much to our annoyance .
Nights 🌗🌗were getting hotter, April Avurudu Festivities taking a fever pitch in the City of Colombo and beyond .
I suddenly had a brain wave – !!
So I informed the all the girls 👭👭🏃🏽on the 3 floors facing De Saram Place, about my plan, and not to worry if they hear any unusual noise coming from the 3rd Floor – particularly Room #4- my room balcony .
I purchased a long string of fire crackers – “ Rathingcha “ ☄️☄️☄️☄️as we used to call them back then, real big, loud ones , waited till the ‘ Restless Lovers- Sarong Johnnies ‘ – were active in their pursuit of their Manly Pleasures.
I lit the string of Fire Crackers-🔥🔥🔥🔥and threw them out the balcony, with all my might !
Off they flew out , ⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️ with a Big Bang, into the hot , humid tropical night- like so many Meteorites with a long trail of blue – white light and thick smoke, as if they all came right out of the clear starry tropical night sky .🌙🌙🌙🌙
And off ran 🏃🏽🏃🏽🏃🏽🏃🏽 the “ Restless Lovers – Sarong Johnnies “ , and ran 🆘🆘🆘🆘they did , with all their speed and might, before “ The Thing “ under the sarong caught FIRE !🔥🔥🔥
Peace , Peace , Peace Be Unto YOU All !!🔚🔚
On the topic of funny 😁 events in the days gone by I thought of writing about our Medical College rags. I am writing this in the hope that others too will contribute to
the blog with their 😁 funny stories for friends to share.
When I started my faculty days I was boarded at St Anthony’s convent at Borella and we used to go by 🚌 bus to Medical College.The Rag week was terrible for me and big Soma……m was a real pain. He asked me to put a skull cap on my head and when I smiled he asked me to put the smile 😊 in my pocket. So I smiled then put my finger across mouth and pretended to put it in my pocket….a pocket that I did not have.
That same day after lectures I boarded the bus back to St Anthony’s convent and when the bus conductor came to collect the bus fare I opened my little handbag 👜 to get the money 💰 I felt something hard and smelling of formaline. The conductor was still waiting to collect the fare so I had a look inside my handbag 👜 to find it was a penis. I just shrieked and the conductor wondered what was happening and asked ‘’ai mokada nona’’ I said “ no nothing “ and paid the fare. When I got to the convent ( I don’t think I told anybody either )but wrapped it up in a piece of paper and put it into the bin. I am sure Soma would have been the culprit along with I think Sera—–e who used to ride a scooter.
This is my funny story. Praxy
Editorial Note: If you have a funny story to tell please forward them to the blog or the webmaster,