Today, lectures about the architecture of India. I have come home soggy with nostalgia and this was not helped by watching two overweight Englishmen doing a cookery programme in Kerala this evening.
As usual, I had to give the vote of thanks at the end of the day. I enthused, of course. I reminisced about visiting Jaisalmer, which is near the Pakistan border and is the only place I’ve ever been addressed, to my discomfiture, as “Memsahib”. My sister and I went to the bar for fortification and were asked what we’d like to drink. “Gin and tonic?” we said hopefully. The barman beamed. “Ah, yes, all the British memsahibs drink double gin and tonics.”
Afterwards, I drove the lecturer back to the station. “If you don’t mind my mentioning it,” he said, “you seem a very cheerful person. Are you always happy?”
I hadn’t had a drop, honestly. It was a good day, is all. Of course, he may have meant I had a scary rictus grin on my face and looked as if I’d ODed on my medication. But he accepted a lift from me, so he can’t have been too worried, surely.