Having been nurtured in a household where voices were hardly raised, more so in anger, I learned from young not to raise my own.
Grandma's legendary blebe (nagging) sessions notwithstanding, she never went an octave beyond the norm. It just wasn't Opah to be noisy and loud.
Of Tok Ayah, one would truly be hard put to get even a squeak out of the old man. Quiet and reserved, Grandpa came across as scholarly, as indeed he was.
Most times he'd be lost between the pages of Reader's Digest or Popular Mechanic (specially subscribed all the way from England those long-ago days).
Otherwise he could be found hunched amongst strips of films hanging to dry in his dark room, for his other passion was photography.
The memories of these two lovely people came flooding back yesterday evening as I settled in front of my laptop, mulling over ideas for my blog.
It was all those hollerings from next door that did it, jolting me out of my reverie. As I readied to park by the window to check things out, I caught the warning look in Pak Abu's eyes.
Chastened, I lowered myself into my seat again, ears still trained to the ruckus next door. This wasn't the first time and my hunch tells me it won't be the last either.
How I wish they would take their spats into the privacy of their bedroom and thrash out their differences within the confines of those four walls...
Grandma's legendary blebe (nagging) sessions notwithstanding, she never went an octave beyond the norm. It just wasn't Opah to be noisy and loud.
Of Tok Ayah, one would truly be hard put to get even a squeak out of the old man. Quiet and reserved, Grandpa came across as scholarly, as indeed he was.
Most times he'd be lost between the pages of Reader's Digest or Popular Mechanic (specially subscribed all the way from England those long-ago days).
Otherwise he could be found hunched amongst strips of films hanging to dry in his dark room, for his other passion was photography.
The memories of these two lovely people came flooding back yesterday evening as I settled in front of my laptop, mulling over ideas for my blog.
It was all those hollerings from next door that did it, jolting me out of my reverie. As I readied to park by the window to check things out, I caught the warning look in Pak Abu's eyes.
Chastened, I lowered myself into my seat again, ears still trained to the ruckus next door. This wasn't the first time and my hunch tells me it won't be the last either.
How I wish they would take their spats into the privacy of their bedroom and thrash out their differences within the confines of those four walls...
3 comments:
Letting off steam once in a while is good for health too.
Keep it bottled up and you may have a heart attack.
..oh no, they wont..take it in the privacy of their bedroom or lower their voices..typical male ego bigger than a hot air balloon, will retort that he is yelling at his wife, not some other neighbour's wife..so who cares if the whole world listen??..sheesh..was that me..???
wu - agreed, tapi pi la gaduh dalam bilik.. hehehe..
pakmat - oh dear!
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