It's been a long, long time.
The last time I was here was 26 years ago. I was in my middle 20s, had only just met the woman who would become my wife and the mother of our children. It was only the second time I had travelled outside of the British Isles. I had no real idea of what I was doing and absolutely no idea why I was going to India. And even less idea of what I was going to happen once I was there. On the outside I was there to meet two friends, one I still have and one I have lost. Nicky – dark haired then – less so now, Scottish, lives in the Lakes with a host of children and (in all probability) a decent whiskey waiting in the cupboard. Mike? Well that’s a different story. I have no idea where he is. Sometimes you pick things up and sometimes you put things down. And sometimes you are put down yourself; put down by somebody when they see no utility in carrying you further. It turns friendship into an object and conversation into scripted theatre. It turns friendship into someth