From work. Long drive. Early evening. With a multitude of cares and sorrows on my head as I drive by a popular roadside club. I decide to go in and take a sip. Straight to the counter. New barman.
A fellow drunkard at the counter. Awkward hi. A lazy grunt. Order a double and maji kubwa. Spain is playing. The screen is a sweet distraction to the unpleasant state of mind. Few patrons.
Then a loud woman wearing a cap comes to the counter to buy a drink and offers to buy me a drink. I accepted.
Hi, hi, pleasantries etc etc. Married etc etc husband doesnt like beer too much blabla bla how old I am, how old I think she is blabla
THEN I say something vaguely on the lines of “in marriage the man is the boss.” George Matinaaaaaaa!!! Full force. I undulge her. But forgot to pick number.
Interesting. I think that woman is a villager. In case she is reading, to please inbox me.
Useless comment of the day. In fact it impossible for you to comment on that particular post, best if you looked for some other post about the weather or something.