A friend of mine was narrating a rather amusing story today. It concerned his father and of an incident that took place in the early 1980's.
My friend's grandmother was living alone at the time in her house in Angoda. As there were no telephones in the immediate vicinity and no way of calling for assistance my friend's father would sleep over a few days of the week, just to watch over things.
He would usually drive over in the evenings, park his car under the porch and sleep on the verandah, as it was cooler than the inside of the house. One night he awoke to see a thief trying to remove the windscreen wipers from his car.
He shouted and the thief took to his heels. Although my friend's father was not fit, he tried to give chase. In the dark he tripped over a flower pot, fell in a drain and broke his wrist. He was screaming in pain when something strange happened.
On hearing his cries, the thief turned back and with the help of someone else who turned up, took my friend's father to hospital.
An incident I thought was worth sharing, reflective of a more innocent age.