Dumbrell In A Quandary

I find September a difficult month as I move into my midlife. My birthday is slap in the middle of September, so the month reminds that the sands of time are slipping through my fingers and that as each year passes I have fewer chances to watch England win the Rugby World Cup.

I have the belief in the back of my mind that given a fair wind I may last until I am 80 - at least, functioning until I am 80. That gives me another 10 Rugby World Cups to watch England get slaughtered by a bunch of ex-British Empire subjects; 10 more opportunities to watch us struggle against a rugby team made up of ALL the inhabitants of a South Sea island; 10 more opportunities to be laughed at by the offspring of our Victorian kerchief-snatchers and sheep-stealers.....

Still, at least I'm not a Chelsea fan, they are in for 100 years of woe!

It is Ganpati here in Mumbai - it involves the worship and eventual immersion of clay figurines representing an elephant headed God, son of the Lord Shiva - greatest of all Hindu deities. This worship will in some way bring the masses power, money, and good luck. It also represents the opportunity to paartay for 10 days, have a few days off work, and slope off to Goa to soak up some sun. Although India is an intensely spiritual place, Indians are also highly practical people and a few days off work is a highly desirable release from worldy pursuits! To avoid the accusation of sarcasm, I must say very hastily that to watch thousands of people 'immerse' their deities in the ocean is an immensely spiritual thing - the power of religion continues to baffle me.

Cricket is another Indian religious deity, and by jove, do they know how to celebrate a win over Pakistan. My eardrums have yet to recover from the final over when about a thousand Mumbaikars screamed at the canteen television with a ferocity that I have not personally experienced since I last forgot to do the washing-up. A wall of sound with seemingly infinite depth, strong enough to frighten you into the kitchen.

Talking of Karen, she-that-must-be-obeyed has been very busy introducing the new influx of ex-pat ladies to Mumbai's finer spots. The new school year has brought a wave of new newbies for both Karen and Conor to play with. Karen generally plays with the earnest Americans, who want to do yoga and visit charities, and Conor appears to be happy to play with anybody that has a Nintendo DS (with Bluetooth of course).

Conor is on the school swim team now, with 3 training sessions a week, the poor boy can hardly squeeze in his yoga classes. Life is good at the American school - best years of your life for sure. I have completed full investigations on Mrs Pascolini and it transpires her husband teaches in the classroom next door. He isn't from The Bronx so she managed to get out of Cosa Nostra when she could.... good on her.

As for me, I have finally got my visa to allow me to get out of the country so we are all off to Dubai this weekend for some retail therapy and some skiing. We are also due home for a couple weeks from December 22nd and really want to catch up with as many of you as possible for a biscuit and a Bovril... we will make plans with you nearer the time.

Anyway, hope you like the fangly new 'blog' thing - hope you corporate bods can read it through your corporate firewalls... I deliberately called Aussies, sheep-stealers when we all know what I meant.

See you soon.

Dumbers

PS The quandary is that Barclays have offered us another 6 months in Mumbai to take us to end of June 2008. We booked our flights home in December and within 24 hours I had an offer - oh how the Machievellian ways of the world continue to give me wind.