London is lovely... as atrociously alliterative as it sounds. It's a little like "When I'm 64" and The Beatles... sumfings are meant to be. And whoopee for London... we are meant to be. Which is because I love the street-musicians and the statue-men and the book sales and Westminster and the West Bank... and I don't think the Gherkin is an eyesore... it's actually a lot more like a dill pickle... but that's the English for you. And I'm sure once I put my mind to it I could learn to get used to, if not downright fond of, Tate's and eating fattening breakfast with knife and fork and shops closing at 4.30 in the evening. After all, there are people who keep newts as pets.
If only the wind wasn't so blustery and the women weren't so sexy and the men were. So it takes me around Rs.45,000/- and two very uncomfortable BA flights to discover only mom is purr-fect.
Next week: Join us for an account of soppy movies watched and mushy songs heard on Valentine's... not of dinners and dates because I haven't a life... nor of books read because one must draw a line somewhere... I've drawn mine and I call it Tethalal.
If only the wind wasn't so blustery and the women weren't so sexy and the men were. So it takes me around Rs.45,000/- and two very uncomfortable BA flights to discover only mom is purr-fect.
Next week: Join us for an account of soppy movies watched and mushy songs heard on Valentine's... not of dinners and dates because I haven't a life... nor of books read because one must draw a line somewhere... I've drawn mine and I call it Tethalal.
