So what could be worse than Lying on a hard, rickety bed Squashed between wall and mother With sweat travelling down your forehead?
And counting the blades of the fan At its maximum speed, lazily tumbling, Planning your mighty escape, because Surely the termites were going to bring down that ceiling?
Spotting a lizard - expertly camouflaged - staring down at you from its abode - right at you - probably thinking to itself - "Oh cool, she'll catch me if I fall"
Yes, that's what's worse.
Childhood memories from the ancestral house. *shudders*