Kumar de Silva
  • When the Wendy Whatmore Academy turned 50 and I turned Prince Charming

    So this was thirty years ago in 1990 when the Wendy Whatmore Academy turned 50 years old and Aunty Bundle (Wendy Holsinger) and Co decided to stage ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs’, the musical. Directed by Christine Tambimuttu, there was Rita Vedamuttu (who also helped me with my horrible stammer) as Vocal Coach and Maryanne David as Music Coach. The costumes were designed by Thusitha Jayasundera and the lighting was designed by Steve de la Zilwa. Snow White was (the wide-eyed teenager) Tracy Holsinger while Andrew David was the Hunter who spared her life. The Seven Dwarfs were all WWA ‘girls’ – Sonali Pathirana as Grumpy, Simone Christoffelsz as Doc, Candice Morrel her sister as Sneezy, Yasmin as Dopey (and she was a WWA teacher too at that time), Renoza her daughter as Bashful, Gaia as Happy and Manisha as Sleepy. How I ended up in this production as

  • Happy Birthday ITN !!!

    Phew what memories …. my journey with you began with Bonsoir (and the Embassy of France) in 1986. It has been one massive learning experience and full of great memories too. Fanclub came almost immediately afterwards. I was brought in when the regular presenter was sacked. You told me, and very specifically too, that I was only a ‘temporary presenter’ until you found a suitable replacement. Fifteen years later, when I quit ‘Fanclub’ on my 40th birthday in 2012, you had still not found that “suitable replacement”. I consider myself exceptionally lucky. And in between you gave me so many, many other opportunities. There was ‘Dhamma in Daily Life’ (a discussion every Poya night), Talk Shows, Business Talk Shows, etc etc etc. You made me a News Reader too. To this day I call myself “Sri Lanka’s worst News Reader”. That’s what I say to myself, chidingly and convincingly. How

  • Henriette and Juliette

    I bumped into these beauties in a little flower cum garden store one beautiful drizzly autumnal Sunday morning in Britanny off the northern coast of France. Audrey and I mandatorily parked in the parking lot, and, fighting the biting wind from blowing our jackets off, rain stinging our faces, scrambled into this store. My intention was to buy fleurs for (my adopted Breton mother), Maryvonne Lefebvre of ‘Les Bois Normands’ in St. Alban, a little bourg equi-distance between St. Brieuc and Lamballe on the côte Eméraude. And as I surveyed the fleuriste’s interior, love at first sight it was. “Coup de foudre” as the French would say. There they were, perched on a counter top, heads held up haughtily high as though it was beneath their dignity to look at the clientele. They were relatively expensive for my Sri Lankan Rupee into Euro conversion. Old Mme Henriette, the fleuriste, behind


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