Small problems

Small problems

I have been suffering from a small ant infestation – both small infestation and small ants.  When I told my daughter, she was far from sympathetic.  Leaving food out, she accused me.  Not at all, there are none in the kitchen; they come in off the balcony.  And are remarkably resilient.  I called the man from CMS who is in charge of my welfare at the apartment, whose initial greeting was that he was there to ensure my well-being.  Which turned out to be a rather grandiose claim, as his response was to tell me about the ant-killer powder I should buy.  When I pointed out that I had little enough time to go searching for such things, he did promise to send me a bottle, and then, when I again pointed out that this did not deal with the furniture, the bedding, etc, he told me he would deal with it.

Which he may, or may not, have done.  I finally encountered Nenda, my cleaning lady – I am often out, so it’s not her fault – and despite our communication issues, she immediately recognised the problem, first sweeping and mopping, and then returning the next day with the aforementioned powder.  She also rolled up my comfortable rug and stored it under the stairs, thus eliminating that problem, and also shook out my bedding.  Thus just about reaching the limit of her powers.

Unfortunately, they still come.  As I say, it’s not a major problem, a bit third world really, but they do run around on the table, the chairs – I have to brush off the occasional particularly bold specimen from my computer screen, my shirt.  Not wishing to explain that the problem had not been eradicated, as I had been promised, I have waged war myself (though without the nuclear option of the powder, which Nenda took away.)  I stamp, I sweep, I boil them alive. And still they come.  I may be bigger, stronger; they are more numerous.

Not that I have a problem with them individually.  On an individual basis, they are actually quite impressive.  I killed a fly recently – that’s another story – but neglected to clean it up immediately.  And later I observed a single ant pulling it single-handedly – do they have hands? – nearly out the balcony door, a distance of some 5 or 6 metres – it’s a big apartment.  Impressive.

My particular small problem this morning concerned playing golf.  Or rather not playing golf.  I had been angling(?) for a game ever since I arrived in India, and since that did not seem to be forthcoming, I drove there myself (well, got Himanshu to take me), and booked myself a game two days hence.  No trouble, I was assured.

I awoke early, showered, dressed appropriately in pale trousers, my brand new unused Waterstock Golf Club shirt, a white baseball cap – I certainly looked the part – made sure I had a filled water bottle AND my sunglasses in a case – I have never been so prepared for golf in my life – and Himanshu, my driver, who had arrived early, got me there on time.

There were two things wrong, it seemed, neither of them the club\’s fault. One was the weather. So far as I was aware, and rather unusually, it had been glorious sunshine since my visit two days before. But I was assured there had since been rain, and the course was unplayable.  It looked beautiful, so far as I could see, and I could hardly demand a tour of the course so they could show me the waterlogged areas.  But it was all the fault of the weather.  Not their fault.

Besides, I had not checked the club\’s Facebook page. My fault.

Actually, I did make one mistake, which was to get angry. Fairly briefly, but enough to lose the moral high ground.  It’s not that I have a problem with the individuals, you see – sound familiar?   It is just that, collectively, they can be extremely annoying, because of their innate nature.  Which, in this case, is to prioritise appearance over functionality.  A golf course in India is not for playing golf on.  It is for keeping in a pristine condition for looking at, or in case someone important turns up.

But it’s a small problem.