A for Ninnihammer, B for Slaves !
Updated: Mar 9
It was getting late. My mother put some kind of cream to settle my hair before she combed it. My half-Brogue shoe was shining its best. I ran the guidelines in my mind that I was handed over about how to behave and some basic etiquette.
I was not apprehensive at all. I was keen to go out and make new friends. So, I walked in. It was a large room where an aged lady sat at a Victorian desk, with the light from the table lamp falling on our faces and almost blinding our vision. Very God-like!
The year 1973.
“A for ?”, she asked.
I looked around to confirm if the question was for me.
“Asterix”
