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 It's too late to find out what I've forgotten The downhill flight takes 9 hours. Timetables are confusing at the best of times. British Airways confused me so much that I could not tell whether they listed the check-in time or the departure time. Indian Railways (the world's largest network) are updated easily in some areas, where the departure times are written in chalk on a blackboard. Unsurprisingly, German schedules are written in a standardised 3-column format: Departure times are on the left side, arrival times on the right-hand side and the station names in the centre column. I suspect everything is updated in real time on your mobile: in Germany, everything is properly organised - no surprise there! I must get back to Germany for a short break this year; just to relish a super-organised society.  Having accepted the mantle of senior status when booking my flights, I registered for "Assistance" to get me to the right Lounge, right Gate and right Flight. As...
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Next month, I shall be 79 years old.

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Still Living the Dream On Thursday, they phoned me from the hospital, here in Oxford. They wanted me to come in 2 days later, to have a minor procedure, which had been delayed several months. I agreed, as it would be one less detail to worry about before I start travelling, and I’m conscious that it’s not long now. Suddenly, everything is coming together. and I'm about to fly to India next week. I've cashed-in a few of my small reserve of Premium Bonds, and on Tuesday I shall get the bus to Heathrow, and then I fly to India. Organised Chaos At home, today, my life is chaos. it's organised chaos - but I am the only person who would describe it as "organised" in any way. I've packed far too many clothes: I need 3 tee-shirts, not 6. I’ve packed far too many books: they'll mostly still be untouched when I'm flying home. And I’ve not packed any of the essentials, like mosquito repellent and medicine for stomach upsets.But nothing will stop me now. Whether...
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December 2022

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Excess Baggage It's only a couple of years since COVID forced me to head back from India with all my worldly goods as excess baggage.  I had been offered the opportunity to rent almshouse accommodation in a Victorian retirement home, set in beautiful gardens near Lincoln Cathedral, well within  earshot of the cathedral bells.  I had lifetime tenancy, until the day when sombre men-in-black would wheel me out of my picturesque cottage, horizontal and feet-first. But that's not quite true, because  I had forgotten that God chuckles when mere humans make plans. Little more than a year passed when my daughter learned of an opportunity for me to live less than a mile from the family in rural Oxfordshire. This would be a novel experience for me, compared to the wide distribution of my other offspring in Canada, the USA, Amsterdam and Hong Kong. As the digits on the calendar progressed relentlessly, I was beginning to realise that my travelling days would soon be curtailed...
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