It’s 58 minutes, with two minutes to go. The Englishman likes to be on time and a little early.
Tea is made and in my favourite ‘cranky old guys rule’ mug. Lucie’s medicines given, computer switched on, air bud things in my ear, matched to the comp Bluetooth, WiFi working ok. Check, quick splash of the face ooooh forgot my treat, a doughnut from SAPA bakery.
I’m sorted.
Redrafted structure of our story sent to Pam yesterday for discussion today.
We’re ready to roll.
Except woooooooooo I’m exactly one hour early the meeting is at 11.00 not 10.00!
Idiot.
I’ll now spend a few moments reflecting in the present. It’s a new thing I learned from Madam
Is this early onset of, you know A……., over excitement to dive into the ‘Labour of Love’ unlikely as I have to constantly deal with being taken over by ‘idle-ous-ness and lethargy’ combined (it’s in the air and not a new thing).
Or have I just lost it? Probably.
I’ll have to wait.
Doughnut now or later is my biggest current challenge.
Cummings comes clean to British Parliament on what has been going on under the surface at Mysore Bed and Breakfast. We can now reveal never been seen before comments from the guestbooks
As part of the research for our story I’ve been reading some of the guest comments from our first two seasons in 2011 and 2012.
Yes, it was ten yesrs ago that we started, initially just in the upstairs house.
What a lovely task it’s been. A real joy travelling through time, I’m amazed at how well it triggers memories of the guests themselves and the things we did together.
It’s wonderfully warm, reading the feedback and especially their appreciation of Manjula. Frankly, I could do without being constantly reminded of who was the real boss. 😉
There are one or two that might not be suitable for wider publication…..
Here are some selected highlights.
PARENTAL GUIDANCE
“Steve you’re a bastard.” I’ve edited it in case young people might be listening.
“So we debated for 15 minutes about how to express our emotional response to our stay at mysore B&B.” and then they wrote nothing!
“What an arsehole. No seriously what an arsehole…”
I suppose I’m the ‘has-been’ that never was.
I am of course, seriously and tearfully happy from these wonderful reminders. I’ll include more details in our story next year, where people are just sooooo gushing about ‘you know who.’. You’ll just have to wait.
Manjula and I discovered this charity, that Kris set up, at WOMAD music festival, feeling one’s breast and checking for lumps wasn’t something she’d ever heard about.
To be truthful I was to discover that basic knowledge about healthy lifestyles and prevention was and is quite limited especially amongst the poorer communities.
I’ve just recalled a great example of this from one of Manjula’s tales l’ll include it in our story due out next year.
The sticker, all those years later is still at our front door for visitors to read.
We were last here three weeks ago and now its completely disappeared.
The f**king house has gone?
What must the parents think?
It’s all my fault.
I’m gutted.
I wonder if a Bul Bul wonders and imagines.
Whatever I’m sorry.
For some ridiculous reason I thought once they’d used it and as the fledgling had fledged that was it, so I cleared the nest away, to help the gardener access the palm.
But no, Tanuja tells me they might have a second family in the same season and its true.
They’ve now had to build another and this time there are two eggs.
It is a safe place, I promise and I am so pleased that they’ve now returned, Manjula loved it each time they reappeared.
our Hindu house has a Pooja room, set up by MAnjula it’s still used for certain festivals. Other households would use it everyday. Our next festival is likely to be for the big rotund guy, my favourite: Ganesh.
No two houses are the same which might be due to the specific Gods, they worship, their caste or maybe just because India is incredibly consistently inconsistent.
In memory of MAnjula as with many households a photo, is placed in the hall (lounge/living room) when people die. For the first year we’d place flowers around her every month, with a special Pooja on her annual death anniversary. This all part of a series of rituals to help her soul spirit find another body and be reincarnated into her next life.
Tanuja at Manjula’s second death anniversary.
In our house there’s a main photo of MAnjula in each of our two lounges. Fact is there are photos of her everywhere. My son thinks The whole house is becoming a shrine.
Sowbaghya who did all the preparation, cooking, decoration for each of Manjula’s death anniversaries.
Now after two years I’ve decorated her like a Christmas tree with lights all around her.
Sometimes she’ll get a little extra treatment with red or yellow dots and we’ll do a little Pooja. It’s essentially a prayer with a request to god.
We’re flexi here.
Her pic is also found on the tree out the front of our house, T-shirt’s and masks her no 1 place is in my heart.
For me it’s especially important to acknowledge our being together and celebrate Manjula as many didn’t know about our relationship.
Having just read the amazing true story about Jeremy the snail by Maria Popova (her of the wonderful brain pickings) I now feel so terribly guilty for the snails I used to throw over the garden wall.
In my poor defence, in Hebden Bridge in north England where I still have a house, they would munch away at my plants. It’s quite cool and damp so ideal for them and their friends the slugs!
Here’s selections from Neil Gaiman’s book. Some lovely little messages.
I’m sitting at my work station listening and reflecting, when a Beatles track, sung by Rufus Wainwright fills the house ….. ’Nothing’s gonna change my world”…
Well guess who it reminded me of? someone who did — dramatically, initially slowly and gently and later, in an instant — change my world
The words fit perfectly.
I’m, here in Mysore, writing draft two (there will be many many more) in the midst of chapter nine (of ‘full full’, which is the working title of ‘our story’). I’m thinking of our nine years together and how Manjula and her love and shining personality transformed my life.
The song continues…….
Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup
They slither while they pass they slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind
Possessing and caressing me
Jai guru deva, Om
Nothing’s gonna change my world
Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes
They call me on and on across the universe
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box
They tumble blindly
As they make their way across the universe
Jai guru deva, Om
Nothing’s gonna change my world
Sounds of laughter, shades of love are ringing through my opened ears
Inciting and inviting me
Limitless undying love, which shines around me
Like a million suns and calls me on and on across the universe
Jai guru deva, Om
Nothing’s gonna change my world
Jai guru deva
..Manjula my muse, the moose, my guru 🙂
Except my written words aren’t quite flowing as described in the song.
Next up on the playlist, ‘you have a friend,’ I ask you.
I’m one of those that can bore for hours on neoliberalism
Ah, there it is: wellness. “Wellness” is part of a class of words unified by the fact that only the most dreadful bores on Earth know what they mean. See also “neoliberalism”. Celebrity Cruises itself adds that the fitness kits will enhance “self-care and collective wellbeing”, with Gwyneth’s role expected to focus on “wellness programming” and something called the “Women in Wellness initiative”.
Me and MYCycle 