As uncle limps downstairs

Kow! It hurts.

I limp downstairs. My right leg is nearly useless after I uselessly got injured at floorball over the weekend. Yet I limp with enthusiasm, in anticipation. I limp towards the letterbox.

I am hoping to receive the postcards. Funny how my comfort comes in the form of pieces of cardboard, likely with hyper-contrasted and kitsch pictures on one side. Naturally, all the limping is for the other side of that cardboard; the words from a foreign land.

Yet all that greets me in the letterbox is indeed a cardboard, an over-sized one at that. Walao. In it, is a piece of paper. On the paper, there are many many many many many numbers. The numbers tell me squat. Yet apparently this piece of paper is of the utmost importance. I tuck it away without even fully taking this UK paper out of its envelope. Exam transcripts, so they call it.

I limp back upstairs, still waiting.


Uncle T