A Playing Dad

My Dad went to Holland in 1992, on a work-related trip. He brought back these sponge-like, yellow-coloured balls. They provided endless entertainment to my bro and me. The thing I'll always remember, though, is our dad sitting with us down on the floor in the living room of our house (in Erren Street, Purasawalkam) and playing a simple game of along-the-ground tennis. We've whiled away hours and hours over weekends and holidays. A busy dad, spending loads of time with his kids, in a house without an inch of outdoor space - I couldn't have asked for more. Thanks, Dad.