Friday, March 20, 2009

Here comes the bride...

One of the main reasons we’re back at the moment is that we have two entirely unrelated weddings to attend. For one of them, the bride to be is having a small girls night out tonight. This is not a hen party - as she’s posh and doesn’t do things like hen parties.

But she does drink with Memsahib. Her and the rest of the terrifyingly intelligent, attractive and conquering circle of long standing varied friends. This simply means one thing. Lock up your firm young sons, lest they be lost forever, like a Viking raiding party coming to visit.

As this isn’t a hen party, I was technically invited to come out with them, but there are limits to my risk acceptance and when I determined I’d be the only man there I feared they’d have an “Officer and a Gentlemen” style navy suit waiting for me as part of some ritual humiliation and cheap evenings entertainment.

So I declined for once.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Never a truer word spoken

Back in London and back to the implant specialist who is about to perform both an extraction (from my bank account) and an insertion of the implant rod.

As I walk into the surgery, I notice the full array of surgical instruments laid out and turn a tad pale.

“Oh yes” he says, “We keep thinking every time a patient comes in and looks nervous, we really should keep those covered to one side….”

“You think?”, I reply.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

“What we've got here is... failure to communicate.”

While waiting for a conference call to get started, Memsahib is engaged in conversation with her colleagues on the call about Delhi, They’re all asking how it’s going and is she still enjoying it and then one of them pipes up with a request. This colleague, who would probably wish to remain nameless for obvious reasons (Hi there Steve), asks if Memsahib could purchase a black pashmina for him to give to his wife as he meant to pick one up when he was last in India but ran out of time.

She says fine and then says that as there is a price range with a normal one costing roughly £20 and a very nice pure one casting £80, what type of price range is he thinking?

At this point the other men on the call join in,

“Steve, is it her birthday?”
“Nope”
“Well it’s not Christmas, so it must be an anniversary?”
“Nope”

Upon hearing this there4 is a rumbling consensus of
“Well you can’t get the £80 one, it sets a dangerous precedent”

At this point, Memsahib interjects with the neutron bomb
“She has born your children, more than one in fact. Get the £80 one”

The men are silenced but dissent rumbles, fearing a wife gift inflationary spiral about to erupt.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

“Karma karma karma karma karma chameleon…”

Kathryn leaves today.

It’s been an eventful visit, especially as while she was here Memsahib was bitten on her eyelid by a mosquito, causing her (good) eye to puff up like Apollo Greed meets Ivan Drago. Kathryn as well has her war wounds, with a dodgy digestion that is still rumbling. Only I remain untouched.

My theory is karma; obviously they’ve done bad things in the past week, mainly forcing me to look at purchases, and now the scales are balancing.

After explaining this I then have to point out that language like that does not earn spiritual brownie points. It’s hard being a sage.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

While the cats away

The advantage of being left alone for a few days (until the inevitable price tag of repeated insistence to “come look what I bought” is presented for payment) is that I can control the menu. This translates simply as “Sir would like the curry much hotter”.

It’s the small pleasures.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

“I’ll take it in lots of colours”

The girls are off for a weekend away to sight see and shop. How much of the Indian economy 12% growth rate is down to Memsahib and friends is a question worthy of government studies.

Friday, March 6, 2009

“I’ll take mine to go”


We’re off to Bukhara. Kathryn is very excited. She’s been looking forward to going there for months as she’s heard wonderful things about it from everyone.

Unfortunately, she’s also developed a touch of the Delhi Belly and ten minutes after we sit down, she runs for the powder-room. On her return, she looks longingly at the food and tries a few mouthfuls before deciding that, though she loves it, she won’t be able to keep it in her. She then spends the rest of the evening watching us fill our faces.

We take a doggie bag home on the off chance she feels like some for lunch the next day, but in the end it’s the local pack who end up dining at one of the top fifty restaurants in the world.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

“I’m having seconds for starters”

Memsahibs friend, Kathryn, likes the food here.

It’s get in quick or there’s none for you when she sits down. As is the usual way of these things, she’s a tiny girl and doesn’t show where she puts it all, but a place on a competitive eating team awaits her when career coaching wanes.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

“She’s a girl, of course she’ll have a hairdryer”


The visitor train is rattling along at speed now. We’ve got a friend of Memsahib’s from work coming for a week. Apparently she’s some kind of coach….

Thursday, February 26, 2009

“His work here is done”


It’s time for Sensei Dad to leave.

Having experienced India for long enough, he feels it’s time to return back to Bromyard where he claims, “you can get a proper curry.” While we’re sad to see him go, it does mean the balance of power shifts back to Memsahib and I, rather than the rotating Eurasia/Eastasia/Oceania smart-arse comment alliances that occurred every breakfast.

As is his style, he departs unseen, with only a puff of smoke masking his vanishing….

And the chorus of barking dogs….

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

“Mr Bond I presume”

Off to have a black tie ensemble made for a friends’ wedding in April. It’s very easy - I’ll just take the picture in, and ask them to make me look like this. For any man in the last 40 years this really is the gold standard of what they want when they put a dinner jacket on.

What we desperately don’t want is to conjure up images of this.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Shouldn’t have had that side-order

After lunch, we start walking to the dock to meet the boat. What was described as a 20 minute stroll becomes very obviously not when we look at a bus map on the road side after walking 30 minutes and realise we’re only a quarter of the way.

No problem, we decide to flag down a tuk-tuk. We obviously got some kind of tuk-tuk equivalent of a Smart car. While your average tuk-tuk will normally carry 16 locals happily, this one barely allows the three of us inside with me having to squat as the seat isn’t quite wide enough. Much pointing as the driver carries us along, but we make it.

“Ahhhh Cato.”

We’ve moved onto Kochin for a few days to see the fishing nets in the backwaters of Kerala. Rising early the next morning we wander down to the breakfast area to look for Memsahib’s father who suddenly pops up behind us silently with only a whisper on the marble to announce his arrival.

After breakfast we decide to take the tour to see the fishing nets. Just as we’re about to head off the meeting point for the slow boat, the hotel manager comes trotting over and informs us that there’s been a cancellation and the speedboat is free if we’d like to use that instead. As none of us are known for our patience, we agree covering more distance in less time is the best idea.

Getting into the boat proves the challenge of morning; Memsahib goes first as she is the lady and sets off a certain rocking motion. Sensei Dad is next and politely avoids showing us up with any back flips, simply stepping into the boat lightly. Finally I get in with both of them urging the pilot to start up and pull away while I’m straddling the dock and deck. It’s all fun and japes.

After spending a few hours racing down the waterways we arrange to get dropped off for lunch in Fort Kochi. We wander through the town and find a seaside restaurant where I eat the best spicy prawns I’ve had for long time.

Sensei Dad and I start talking about why surfing doesn’t seem to be a big sport in India even though they have thousands of miles of warm coastline. Maybe it’s the difficulty in preparing and maintaining the surfboards I suggest. But it’s quite simple he says; “Wax on, Wax off”.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

I especially liked the way he took the stone from my hand...

Sensei Dad and I have flown to Mumbai to meet Memsahib who is networking at a NASSCOM conference – with this many outsourcers in the building, it’s slave-trading 21st century style. I daren’t stand still too long before I’m up on the block having my teeth examined and being shipped off to a distant land never to see my family again – kind of like what I decided to do anyway.

We all manage to escape the post conference drinks, leaving one of Memsahib’s juniors to nurse his two drink hangover from the previous night and head off to a seaside restaurant which Memsahib has been insisting is one of the best in the city. When we get there, we are lead to our table on the beachfront and sit down to discover that the lighting is, shall we say, less than adequate.

Obviously there’s nothing for it but to wind up Memsahib like a clock work toy. Sensei Dad and I sit there making repeated facetious attempts to read the menu by the light of the single table candle and exclaiming about being able to see our food by the landing lights of the planes flying overhead (we are under the flight path to Mumbai airport). Eventually Memsahib deals with us soundly through a few sound cuffs to the head and we settle down and behave.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Meet the parent – Memsahib strikes back

After our visit to my family, it was her turn to flip it onto the home turf by bringing her father over for a lengthy visit.

A man of ancient wisdom who combines the skills of Bruce Lee with the calm presence and dress sense of Chuck Norris but sadly lacks the taciturnity of either.

His karate belt does more than just hold up his trousers.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

“And now the lovely Miss Caracas…”

Back to the dentist. Who promptly removes the crown he re-cemented a week ago, as the implant consultant has recommended it be taken out rather than build up problems while I’m away in Delhi. Does he hand back the wedge I paid for him to re-cement it a week ago? Ho, ho, good one sir, a veritable thigh-slapper.

To be fair, he’s a good dentist so I don’t care, pay money for quality when someone’s poking metal in your mouth is my motto. He’s actually not my first dentist, having taken over the surgery from my previous dentist a few years ago, but has kept the unique hiring policy. Dr S had an approach of hiring young dentists from exotic countries who needed to re-certify to work in the U.K. as his assistants. Coupled with a Joanna Lumley Chelsea type as his receptionist, it was always an adventure showing up for an appointment, not knowing if this week it would be the fiery South Americans or the cool Eastern Europeans handing over the instruments.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

“Who will rid me of this meddlesome tooth?”

In this week long visit back to London I have to tend to my dental needs. A crown which has always been the rebel of the pack has decided to come loose – possibly due to all the grinding I do when Memsahib wins another discussion.

So we landed on Friday, I saw my dentist on Saturday who glued it back in and booked me for the hygienist on Tuesday and has sent me to the implant consultant Thursday to discuss replacing the crown with an implant and would I like to arrange a second mortgage now or later? I’m starting to understand why three generations ago everyone just had them all removed when they were twenty.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

“But how do I sit at the back of the class when it’s remote learning?”

MSc starts today. I’ve started reading the course notes. First piece of formal academic study for 20 years (discount self taught learning, the classes are always held by an idiot.). No pressure. Now I just need to figure out how to turn on my laptop.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Shaping the minds of the future.

Whilst in London, my godson (The Bruiser), his older brother (The Thinker) and their mother (The Leader) are around to catch up with. This is a rare treat as usually they are as far away from me as possible at the northern-most tip of Scotland – I’m not sure their mother trusts my ideas about god-fatherly responsibilities.

So Sunday morning we all head off to the Science Museum in Kensington. This place is great. They’ve revamped the exhibitions and displays since I was last there and they have a section on the top floor devoted to teaching science through interactive displays. The boys and I practically sprint up there and even though the Thinker is playing it cool, you can see he likes trying to work out how to solve the problems.

The comedy aspect is focused around the fathers who’re obsessively showing their children how it’s done – pushy stage mothers have nothing on dads with gadgets.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

“Big ol jet airliner”

Another flight back to London. I have no idea how people do business travel. One of our friends once did more than 200 flights in a year working for a management consultancy – it was the MBA equivalent of “If it’s Tuesday, it must be Belgium”

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

It’s not quite filing copy as the bullets fly overhead…

To keep herself busy between bursts of high level captain of industry behaviour Memsahib writes a monthly column for Supply Management magazine about her experiences of India. I have already exhausted the references to the “obscure guest publication” component used on the Missing Words round in “Have I Got News for You” and was forced to retreat licking my wounds when she started quoting the titles of some of my more technical reading material to me.

To be fair (and biased) she does as good in spinning a rip roaring tale as you’re going to get in a trade journal – even though she leaves out the bits about bribes, spies, mysterious deaths in conference rooms and who exactly forgot to process form J7/34/9X in triplicate rather than duplicate.

Check it out here

Saturday, January 24, 2009

It’s not quite polishing grapes on your breast – yet.

Fruit for breakfast is wonderful, especially when there is more variety that the citric acid covered pre-sliced and packed choices available in certain ready-meal heavy supermarkets. Pomegranates are not something I’d really eaten much of before and the way Memsahib refuses to share at the table, not something I’m eating much of now.

It turns out that the preparation for these involves our houseboy removing the individual kernels by hand. I have emphasised strongly to Memsahib this is not a service she should expect to carry on back in London.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

"How much is that doggy in the window?"


Puppy update for all you dog lovers. Of the original Magnificent Seven, one has apparently gone to the big kennel in the sky while we were away (our driver is vague on the details for fear of distressing me I suspect). Three have been adopted by local families as pets leaving three to live the unchained life in front of our apartment. There are a lot of stray dogs in Delhi, but they are generally well cared for by the people around them in day to day life - a dog’s life in India doesn’t seem too bad.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Back to Skool

Hurruh. I’ve just found out my application to do a part-time distance MSc has been accepted. Start in two weeks. Not sure how the subsidised student bar works remotely but I’m sure I’ll figure it out.

Monday, January 12, 2009

If there was ever a case of the wrong kind of snow…

We’re back for a week on London and Nature lays on some blizzard conditions to remind us of what’s in store when we return. Of course it means that we’re housebound the day after we arrive, meetings are cancelled, appointments to see friends fall over. Might as well not have come..

Except that we’re going to the snow on the weekend and this is all wonderful – assuming Heathrow doesn’t fail us. Fingers crossed, but I know the great British service economy will get us through (What’s that Private Frazer, speak up I can’t hear you)

Saturday, January 10, 2009

“You can checkout any time you like, but you can never leave”

Simon, Leigh and Anne are taking their turn to go to Wildflower Hall. They love it. In fact they love it so much they actually don’t leave it and spend the entire time enjoying Spa treatments.

They do manage to see Shimla from the window of the car taking them back to the airport.

Monday, January 5, 2009

“The monkey always rings twice”

We’re all off to the Monkey Temple. This is great, monkeys everywhere fighting and eating whatever peanuts you hand them from the bags sold from the vendors at the entrance. Of course there are also the ubiquitous cows wandering around the temple who also like peanuts. One of them attempts to keep nuzzling the bag out of my hand and persists in following me and nudging my hand. Cows are like zombies in films, you think they move slowly and they’re far away and you don’t need to worry and the next time you look up – it’s all gone 28 Days Later.

One cow ambles over to a wall where a monkey is sitting and vacuums up some of his nuts. The monkey obviously isn’t going to let this go and draws back his fist and belts the cow one – it’s almost a subcontinent version of Bear vs. Shark.

The whole time were wandering around, Anne is a little on edge. It turns out that she doesn’t particularly like monkeys, finding them a little creepy. We calm her down over it and she seems to start to accept that they’re actually not too bad when suddenly we round the corner and see a monkey attempting to get to know a puppy in a cruel and unusual manner especially as he obviously hasn’t bought it dinner and drinks first. Anne runs over yelling, shooing away the monkey and decides her original instincts were justified – they really are little f*ckers

Sunday, January 4, 2009

“You don’t have go home, but you can’t stay here…”


Alexandra, Jane, and Sukie have decided we all need to stop into FabIndia as it’s been at least a day since any shopping was done. Simon and I lose interest after a while and drift around for a while, grunting when repeatedly asked “What do you think of this?” and attempting to go to our respective happy places in our heads while the sartorial water-boarding continues.

Eventually the light bulbs over our heads light up and we realise that with both drivers outside, we could take one back the hotel. With a speed that shames Carl Lewis we’re out the door and heading back.

Eventually the girls return. It turns out that they were eventually turfed out of the shop, albeit ever so politely, as the staff all wanted to lock up and go home having passed their closing hours by a good 30 minutes.

Friday, January 2, 2009

“Dancing queen, young and sweet…”

I’ve neglected to mention that the hotel we’re all staying in has for the evening bar entertainment, Romania’s finest singing duo. They’re actually good entertainment value if not always in the way intended. Comprising a man who deals with all the background tasks of playing the keyboard or guitar as required and a singer who Simon suspects has borrowed her wardrobe from a previous job in another Eastern European “hospitality” industry – silver tinsel lamé is quite stylish when you know how to wear it.

The best part of the evening is when they start to notice that we are the most appreciative table in the audience by a large margin and start to take requests. The girls want at least one Abba song evening and a Central European cover of a Scandinavian accented phonetic rendition of English is great after at least two double Brandies.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

“…a wafer thin mint…”

We’ve met up with the worlds worst Bananarama tribute band (blog passim) and are planning New Years dinner. There is a hotel in Jaipur which has a reputation of the finest old style Raj dining room. We secure a booking after much work as there is much sucking of breath by the receptionist about availability before they eventually concede there is space, but are warned that jacket and tie are obligatory for gentlemen. Eventually we decide to risk it having no other option.

The women of course are unfazed as they always have several outfits suitable for any occasion. I blame Memsahib for not anticipating all my needs when she packed the bag. Good help is hard to find.