A quintessential part of any young kid’s upbringing is the sleepover. Technically, it should be transcribed “Sleep: Over” since it’s the termination of any sleep for a good 24 hours, including that of Mum & Dad and any neighbourhood dogs. I had a great many sleepovers with a great many people, although now as I type it out it all sounds a little Bond film-ish.
Like the rest of you, I learned to drive with an insane Bolivian Taxi Driver on cobblestone streets on the side of a mountain. Right? Anyone?
In my high school years, since my father was the principal and could pretty much do whatever he wanted, he started an electives course so I could get my driver’s license.
“Were Dead,” said my brother’s hastily typed text message, replete with poor grammar. “Check your Email. We’re dead!” I tapped the mail icon on my iPhone and into my inbox jumped a new message from one of the country’s largest Diabetes organisations. It said if we didn’t take our website offline within 12 hours, they’d be pursuing the matter further with the courts.
Lately I thought I’d re-emmerse myself one of the best TV shows of all time: the X-Files. When I was young I loved the X-Files more than Cindy Crawford and Magnum P.I. combined. I was drawn back in recently because I saw Gillian Anderson play Miss Havisham in a BBC production of Great Expectations.
One of the best things about Bolivia was the holidays. We got time off school everytime there was a riot, or a change of government, or on days of the week ending in ‘es’. The best Bolivian holiday of all though, was San Juan. I’ll state the obvious and guess Saint John was the day’s namesake, but I have no idea who he was or what he did.