Tag Archives: Early Bird

“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 …

Nobody, it seems, is enraptured with World Cup 2022, at least, nobody I know. Nobody at all is sounding really excited about it.  Not even Wired868. Do the math. Mere weeks ago, in late July, three months, three weeks, three days, three hours, three minutes and three seconds separated us …

Keith Smith left us in early February. I know that but I still don’t remember the precise date. And one February afternoon this year, a phone call from a former colleague brought back a fond memory of him. A timely one. “Covid’s over,” she complained, “but I still cyar see …

“[…] Without being required so to do, non-track athletes (discus and hammer throwers and shot putters) also tend to turn in an anticlockwise direction. And it’s not just athletics. Many other sporting events also move from left to right, particularly those involving racing along a circuit. “[…] Physiology has its say. …

Planting fruit trees is a great idea. And even better, on public property—if there is buy-in from the community. Former agriculture minister Clarence Rambharat’s hands were probably too full, we now guess, for him to provide direction on that issue. And the new man in there? Well, we’ll have to …