Paper Dosa

Mum was a bit down when I arrived at the home. She hadn’t seen anyone for a couple of days and was feeling a little rejected. But it was more than that; the realisation that she had lost her home, her way of life, her health, her youth and much of her short-term memory, all contributed. It would get to most of us at times and, on the whole, she doing well, being strong, knowing that she is coming towards the end of a very long strange trip. I sat in her room with my arm around her and we worked on a crossword together. She did better than me and cheered up a little before I left. I felt helpless, guilty, sad, and a mixture of emotions.

Before heading home I called in to see my sister, then went for a Southern Indian meal with my nephew. We had Paper Dosa for starters; nephew went for the set vegetarian meal and I opted for a wonderful regional chicken curry, all washed down with large bottles of Kingfisher. Nephew noticed that the Kingfisher, ‘India’s Finest Larger’, was brewed and bottled under licence in the UK by Shepherd and Neame. Still, they are a pretty good brewer and the beer lived up to its Indian reputation.

It was getting on for 9pm by the time the Prelude and me were curving our way around the North Circular, heading west. It was a particularly traffic free interlude in the day and we made the M40 in less than an hour. I was back in time for a few games of Pool With Gollum in the Rock. We only played two games and left it at one all as Buffy, who had drunk a little too much again, insisted that the entire pub play Killer. Gollum and me will have a decider another time.

It had been sunny most of the day and the world had warmed up. A quarter moon in a patch of mist in a clear night sky. Fish and river rats jumped as I strolled slowly back along the towpath with the smell of a new summer, at last, approaching.

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BA, £89 return to Bucharest, so Ferret tells me; Count Vlad I hear you calling. I may be there soon.