Death of the knife grinder

He was an old man; 80 years of age. He lived in our village, and was killed last week, on his way round abouts, looking for knives to grind.

He used to grind our knives, and made them nice and sharp. He's dead now because children are allowed to drive motor bikes.

They are not allowed to drive with one hand holding an umbrella, and talking rubbish to their friend on their mobile phone at the same time, but no one stops them.

His head was smashed in when the boy driving the motor bike hit him.

The doctors here where we live, are only any good at sticking needles in my bum. They cannot look after smashed heads, so he was sent a hundred miles away, to Tesco Lotus Town.

The doctors there couldn't help him either. They'd run out of vinegar and brown paper.

No one seems sad. Dad agreed with them that it is better that he died quickly. They all said that he was a good man so will come back again as someone happy.

Dad didn't say they were talking rubbish this time. He only said that he hopes it is true.

THE INDIA ARMS

Dad has been busy re-building the pub in our garden. He said that the pubs in town are rubbish, so will save the travelling and go to his own pub in the future.

It will have a darts board, a snooker table and a fridge for keeping the gnat's piss cold.

He calls it that because it's not proper beer. You can only get proper beer in England, here we go again, In Thailand they cannot make proper beer, only pretend beer.

He said I have to 'magine a million, billion, trillion gnats all having a wee into a big tub at the same time. Then they bottle it and stick a beer label on it and sell it.

Well, I can't 'magine it. I only think he's stupid for buying it if it's no good.

He used to have a pub in the garden before I was born. He said he had to close it because I was too much work to look after as well as the pub.

Anyway, he couldn't stand the people coming all the time and getting on his nerves.

He says this time, their will be no customers (I don't think he will notice much change there), Gary will be banned and the beer will be free. His idea of the perfect pub.

DYING TO MAKE THAT CALL

Dad doesn't believe in banning things (except Gary from his pub) but sometimes changes his mind.

There is a nasty bend in the road to town, 2 kilometres from here, (about half way). on the bend is a junction.

Nearly every week, some one has an accident there. If someone is on a motor bike, they are usually killed. and it's usually a child riding the motor bike. The junction takes the road to a school and the school doesn't seem to notice that less and less children now attend.

Yesterday a girl of 13 had an argument with her mum and rode into town to buy a phone card anyway.

A man in a pick up truck started his journey to take the day's money to his boss in Siwilli.

Either on her way there, or on the way back, I'm not sure which, one, or both of them, didn't see the other one.

The pick up truck has a bump in it. The girl is dead.

Her sister was killed three years ago.

Dad says that phone cards should be banned.