“On a hill far away,” Paul burst into mournful fo’daymorning song as he caught up with us, “stands a new water tank, the emblem of suffering and shame…” Taken completely by surprise, Bobby and I looked blankly at each other. “Who side you on?” Paul asked. Scores of people, mainly …

“What’s really going on with this WASA water tank?” Bobby inquired, in the middle of our walk last Wednesday morning. In the area to the west of the tank, there was heavy machinery, a tractor and a front-end loader. I know that put Bobby’s mind at ease. He is a …

“What shit you talking, bro?” Bobby asked, his jaw literally dropping. “We talking bout the same song?” Even before Calypso Fiesta, I had shared Soul of Calypso with my pardna on WhatsApp. We both agreed then that it was not the “hit calypso” Machel would have us believe it is. …

The story about Kieron Pollard’s recently signed consultancy contract has not got a lot of traction in the media. But if Bobby is right, it could make a big difference to the outcome of this year’s World Cup. Twelve years ago in 2011, Pollard was offered a retainer contract by …

“Assholes!” Bobby shouts after the two half-naked young men as they fly around and past us like a speeding bus on Monday morning. And after one last, long look at the bare disappearing backs of the boy bandits, he resumes our interrupted conversation in his normal voice. “Which is also …

The Peterkin massacre, we’d both agreed last week, was a horror movie, which had moved murder in T&T into a whole new realm. And as I drove down to Bobby’s house early Monday morning, my mood was still more than muted, sombre. “Judgement,” Bobby the Bard greeted me even before …

Calmer than you imagine any Trinbago cricket fan would be, Bobby smirked his way through our entire fo’daymorning Republic Day walk. A smirk is a kind of fleeting oral halo. It is a personal recognition of if not saintliness, at least rightness. Maybe not every time, it concedes-cum-brags, but this …

That Monday morning when Bobby sent me back to the 1950s and an old Sparrow kaiso about Carnival queens, Denyse Plummer was still with us… Fo’daymorning. I pull up in front of his house as usual to start our walk to the Eddie Hart Savannah. On the way, he makes …

Apoplectic, my fo’daymorning walk pardnah Bobby would later describe my state. In hindsight, I had to agree. Unapologetically apoplectic. Don’t blame me. Blame the pair of presenters on duty on the 7 ‘o’ clock news on CNC3 on the night of 30 January. They had ignited my ire. Had lit …

“1990?” asks Bobby, a rueful look distorting his facial features, “What I remember best about that campaign is Philbert Jones incredible miss from the edge of the six-yard box. “But I will also never forget Kerry Jamerson’s run in the second half of the second half of the last game …

There’s a coalpot somewhere in my storeroom. And I own a bicycle.  Truth is, I down here long. So I don’t need any advice from any MP about how to prepare for what’s coming. I really down here too long fuh that. And after reading Scotty Ranking’s recent piece on …

“Pan? Pan my ass! Sat say once that UNC people have dholak and sitar and tabla and tassa; they don’t want no pan!” “Morning, breds,” I had greeted Prakash cheerily as he stepped into the street just as Bobby and I were passing his house on Friday morning. “Yuh hear bout …