Sometimes I write my thoughts down.

Apart from all the warmongering, paranoia and sensationalism, I mean.

This morning I heard the new Stereophonics single, and...

...well, it's not actually too bad! It sounds kinda Snow Patrol-y, and will hardly revolutionise music or anything, but it's the first of their songs since Bartender and the Thief to not make me want to throw the radio at the wall.

I'm confused.

I just tried the Music Recommendation quiz linked to on Lauren's site ...

and I came out as 67% Emo!

Noooooo!!! Shurely shome mishtake...



Emo & Screamo: 67%
Indie: 63%
Indie Rock: 54%
Ska: 46%
Punk and Pop Punk: 46%
Mainstream: 38%
Britpop: 38%
Industrial: 33%
Hardcore: 29%
Classic Rock: 29%
Country: 21%
Hip Hop and Rap: 13%

Well, I'm back, and straight back to work too :(
Though it's not all bad, my boss is still away so I shouldn't get bothered much, and I have t'internet here so I can catch up on all t'gossip. No idea why I'm being Northern. I just feel like it. Sounds like you're all having fun, anyway :)

I wrote a couple more blog entries before I left but didn't get a chance to post them. I'm not going to now, I can't really be arsed and I'm sure you've all had quite enough of me blathering on by now. Reading some of them back: bloody hell I can be a verbose twat at times!

I must also apologise for not telling people I was going till the last minute ... I guess I kinda had some ridiculous notion of there being a "right time", which never actually came (I was going to on my birthday but the evening didn't quite end up how I'd expected it would). I'm sorry... please don't hate me! :)

I've decided I want my blog to be more like Bob's. Short, intelligent, to the point and funny, with lots of drinking involved :)

P.S. A note to my parents: you can stop reading this now. If you like. Please? ;)

And so to my last point of call. Pune is a large, spacious, relatively modern city about 3 hours drive away from Mumbai (I’m not sure of the distance, but it’s not actually that far by crow – the time is due to heavy traffic and mountainous roads). It has an opera house, a multiplex cinema, shopping malls, 2 universities (well, a uni and a poly), a well-equipped teaching hospital (where I’m working) – yet remains very much Indian.

Caroline has pretty deep roots in India – her father was posted here with the army, and he became lifelong friends with an Indian comrade. It was largely down to these sorts of contacts that Southampton’s Indian research connections began in the first place. Anyway, on the evening of our arrival (last night) Caroline took me to have dinner with her father’s army friend, Col. Mohite. He is a fantastic character. He has just the manner of an old English gent – stubbornly old-fashioned and selectively deaf, but with a twinkle in the eye, a glass of scotch in the hand and many a story to tell. He even has the accent – kinda like the Major in Fawlty Towers – but he is Indian, and so also has a light-hearted disrespect for the British and their gardens and churches. His living room is decorated with all sorts of memorabilia, old books, photos, tiger skins and heads (I never realised how skilled an art taxidermy was – apparently they build wooden frames and sculpt incredibly accurate models around them to dress with the skin). When I happened to mention that I was from Malvern, and asked if he had heard of it ("they make water, you know..."), he replied "Well, it’s funny you should mention that..." and launched into a convoluted shaggy-dog tale about how he once ended up in Malvern staying with a friend-of-a-friend who worked at the College, ("but the day before I was due to leave, I met his daughters, so I ended up staying a little longer..."), and someone else from there (or possibly the same person) who later became a director of Rolls-Royce, or something… anyway, you get the picture.

Just as many of my Southampton colleagues and predecessors had visited India at one time or another and met all the people that I’ve been meeting, many of them also got taken to meet Col. Mohite too. I don’t think I’d fully appreciated what a long-standing tradition I’m following in by being sent over here. It’s like a big international family.

Ooh look – I’ve been here exactly 2 weeks now! It seems a lot longer than 14 days, but in a good way. Having said that, I won’t really be sad to be coming home – it feels like it’s time. I don’t belong here. Ah, the old end-of-adventure conundrum.

So yes, I’m back in Mumbai for a couple of days, in the same hotel as on my first night. I’m going to refine my previous statement about disliking Mumbai. In the context of India in general, it’s just a very big, crowded city – but a city of very defined extremes. Everywhere I’ve been has had big posh houses (and sometimes palaces) with people living under tarpaulins on the same street, but in Mumbai there are huge slums literally (I can’t use this word anymore without thinking of "Thierry Henry is quite literally on fire!" etc, but I really do mean 'literally') across the street from international banking headquarters. Yesterday evening we went for a bit of sightseeing, and went to see the biggest, swankiest, most venerable 5-star hotel in town, the "Taj Mahal" on the seafront. We went in and had a look around, open-mouthed. Eventually, as we were wandering around the corridors where the rooms are (chandeliers, wooden balconies etc) we were inevitably challenged and asked to leave; but my gosh is it opulent.

Earlier that day we had again gone out into the field, to 'community centres' underneath flyovers and down tiny narrow alleys with shambling 2-storey houses either side, but what struck me was not so much the desperate poverty as the fact that everyone was busy – sweeping and scrubbing their homes, preparing food, sewing blankets or cutting wood. They were making the best of things. Having said that, they are very much in need of decent sanitation and clean water.

Back at the hotel having dinner, Inga and me were discussing these inequalities, and also the gender inequalities that exist here. She was quite horrified at how lowly women’s status is – and having spoken to various Indian people about it I must agree with her. To start with, female children are thought of as a burden since they will inevitably leave the family and cannot then support them; there is also a large dowry to be paid when she gets married. And get married she will: marriages are arranged, mostly by matching on social class and comparing horoscopes, and can happen in the space of a few weeks. The mean age of marriage for women is around 20ish (I forget exactly); they then face not being able to have a career or get an education, and generally being subservient (depending on the nature of the husband, of course!). It seems like women are brought up to have lower self esteem (and possibly poorer health, since if food is scarce the best is often given to the sons), and are married off before they have a chance to realise what’s happening, thus perpetuating the whole thing. BUT: am I just being an arrogant whitey by looking at things this way (especially as we don't exactly have an equal society ourselves!)? Where’s the line between promoting a fair and equal society and eroding a whole culture and replacing it with free-market capitalism and Jerry Springer? Clearly there is a line, but it’s possibly one that international development bodies fail to spot in time, if indeed they’re looking in the first place.

Anyway, discuss. Liam in particular I expect will have some interesting things to say here!

So, I haven’t blogged for a few days now. It’s partly that a lot of things no longer seem quite as novel as they did to begin with, so I don’t have as much urge to write huge essays on everything, and partly that with all the travelling and long days I’m just knackered and can’t be arsed!

Since I last wrote… well, firstly let me reassure you all that I’m fine after my bout of illness! The next day, after work, we were taken to Mysore art gallery and saw lots of interesting paintings of Mysorean kings and Hindu folklore, and also some Indian musical instruments and games. The next morning, at 6am sharp, we left by road back to Bangalore to catch a plane to Pune, and thence by road to Mahabaleshwar for the conference. This last part of the journey was spectacular. In contrast to the mainly flat area around Mysore and Vellore in the south, here we were among the northernmost reaches of the Western Ghats, and soon we were facing hairpin bends (which were not fun given the reckless manner of Indian driving!) and magnificent views. The lower slopes were fairly dry and barren, but as we neared Mahabaleshwar the hills were suddenly covered in a jungle of trees and shrubs. Around 4000ft above sea level, Mahabaleshwar is a former hill station, and one of the furthest south, so its favourable climate (it’s at least 10degrees cooler up here) has made it something of a tourist attraction. Caroline has family friends here, so knows it well, and has been saddened to see the jungled hilltops being cleared for hotels and resorts. Amusingly, the authorities have attempted to compensate for this by levying a ‘pollution tax’ (i.e. a toll) on vehicles using the roads around the town. This afternoon we went ‘sightseeing’, which involved about 4 or 5 vehicles ferrying 30 or so delegates around the narrow, twisting roads and stopping every now and then to disembark en masse to snap a temple or scenic view. Don’t get me wrong, the views were absolutely spectacular, but it just felt far too touristy and shallow. This place is far too nice for a conference, if you see what I mean – it’s a place to take in slowly and deeply.

So, the conference. I’ve yet to make my mind up about conferences. Yes, they’re an important part of academic life, and it’s always good to be able to present your own work, but there’s also an awful lot of triviality. To which I have contributed, of course – my talk hardly pushed back the boundaries of science – but I’m not sure I have enough enthusiasm for all the studies which simply confirm or slightly refine what we know already. Then there’s the people: on the one hand, it’s important and useful to ‘network’, but it does get tiring answering and reciprocating the same questions and making small talk. Or maybe that’s just me. Anyway, this evening was the last night and so we had the obligatory conference disco, at which it is obligatory for the young ’uns to sit around and laugh at their bosses who are extravagantly waving their limbs around to the beat and who almost certainly haven’t let their hair down like this since the last such event. They will then bounce over and insist you join them, which you decline, aghast, but follow soon afterwards as you realise you’re just being antisocial. Was there something similar to this at Durham, Bob? Apart from your boss not being there, of course.

So, conferences… they’re funny things.

Well, it had to happen eventually, I suppose. After a restless night I got up feeling rough as a badger’s bottom, and before long the diarrhoea and vomiting began. Does non-alcohol-induced vomiting count, Bob?! Anyway, since nothing else whatever of note happened to me today, let me tell you some more general stuff I’ve learned about India.
Firstly, as I’ve mentioned already, they do love their food! Like the French, they are immensely proud of their flavourful and varied cuisine, and they will shower their guests with all manner of dishes given the smallest excuse. The trouble is – and this is partly what my work is to do with – a lot of sugar and carbohydrate is consumed, and very little fresh fruit and vegetables, especially green leafy veg, so obesity and related health problems are on the rise. They will look at you with shock if you attempt to order tea or coffee without sugar!
Also, everyone I’ve met here has been very open and friendly, which I think stems in large part from the amount of socialising that goes on. Traditional large and/or extended families are still the norm, and the warm climate means that everyone is out and about until well into the evening. On the trains everyone immediately turns to their neighbour to ask fairly personal questions by our standards – marital status, number of children, job, reason for journey – and to share around any food that’s going. There also seems to be music everywhere, whether horns or pipes played by people as they walk around, or recorded music emanating from shops or temples. I’ve heard surprisingly little Western music – MTV hasn’t conquered the world just yet it seems (and the first time I did hear some Western pop, it was Ace of Base!).
I really must also mention here the fantastic and ridiculous auto-rickshaw. These contraptions are basically scooters, modified to have three wheels to seat passengers in the back and a hood over the top. They are extremely cheap and numerous, and probably extremely unsafe, especially in the traffic chaos of the city, but they are a great way to get about!

Tell me why I don’t like Mondays… The working day begins here at 8am sharp, and I worked pretty solidly right until 5pm. All the travelling, working and sightseeing is very tiring, and most nights so far I’ve been glad to be in bed by 11!
Straight after work (after being invited for a ‘cup of tea’ at the hospital director’s place, at which we were presented with enough rice and such like for a whole meal –Indians do like their food!) we were taken 15kms or so into the countryside to Brindavan Gardens. As we crossed the river Cauvery on our approach, the outline of an enormous castle wall appeared in middle-distance stretching out in both directions. This was, in fact, a dam, whose reservoir serves the entire city through the dry season. After parking the car, we walked back to the waters’ edge, where a long, narrow causeway crossed a lake at the dam’s foot. It was dark by this time, and the causeway was lit up by a string of little lights. There was also a large geyser-type fountain in the middle of the lake. On the far side lay ornamental gardens, with several levels leading up and away from the water. At far end of these gardens was a glade, with the dam wall along one side and surrounded by palm trees. Hundreds of people crowded around here to see, at the centre of the glade, the famous and spectacular Musical Fountain. Floodlit jets of water swayed and danced, looking almost like fireworks, in time to an Indian dance beat. People were cheering and clapping; it was like an enormous outdoor party. The only thing that annoyed me was that cameras, especially video-cameras, were strictly forbidden, so I have no photos – you’ll just have to take my word for it!

Sunday, as in the UK, is a day of rest – which meant for us another day of whirlwind tourism. I guess this is what the average American would do: see as much as there is to see in the quickest time possible. It’s not relaxing at all, and it’s so hard to take everything in. We were met at 9am sharp by two social workers from the hospital we’ll be working at, with a mission to show us all the ‘must-see’ attractions of the city. First up: Chamundi Hills.
These reminded me of the Malverns – a group of rounded hills surrounded by plains on either side. The views were breathtaking, particularly of the city; a sea of green dotted with white, spread out at the base of the hill almost as far as the eye could see (which wasn’t actually too far, as the heat and dust created a haze). At the top was a Hindu temple similar to that at Vellore, surrounded by outbuildings, stalls and car-parks. After taking a look around, we descended on foot down some 300 steps to the Hills’ other main attraction – a large decorated statue of a bull, carved in stone but coloured a tarry black from oil deposited there by Hindu devotees (I’m not quite sure of the significance of this practice). I hadn’t really been able to get outside so far, so the hillside breeze and views were just what I needed.
Next up: Mysore Palace. As befits a palace, it is colossal, ornate, and surrounded by huge grounds, walls and gateways. It is, apparently, one of the largest and grandest of its kind in India. The most spectacular sight was a huge balcony overlooking a wide avenue leading out from the palace towards a massive entrance arch. In the time of the kings, huge processions of people and elephants would enter this way – it must have been quite a sight.
After lunch, we drove 14kms down the road to the fortress of Tipu Sultan, the leader of the local resistance to British forces in the ?16th century and known as ‘the Tiger of Mysore’. His summer palace has been converted into a museum of his life and times. The fort itself, situated on a large river island, offered disappointingly few sights to see, and most of it is now a surprisingly large village.
By this time it was late afternoon and time for a very well-earned break back at the hotel, before having a very pleasant evening meal at the family home of one of the researchers.

After previously sampling planes and cars, today was a day of trains. The journey from Vellore to Mysore took over 6 hours, including one change in Bangalore. The stations look much like they do anywhere in the world, really, except maybe for the red-jacketed porters carrying obscene amounts of luggage about, including several suitcases piled on top of their heads! The trains were extremely long, with 3 or 4 different ‘classes’, and were apparently fairly infrequent (once every 3 hours or so). Almost as soon as we set off, a man came through the carriages selling hot tea, followed swiftly by a hot coffee-seller. This set the tone for the journey, with every few minutes bringing yet another food- or drink-salesman – fruit juice; cakes; samosas; muffins; fizzy drinks – all shouting their product as they went. It struck me that you’d likely get bored rather quickly with walking up and down a train shouting “Tea!” for a living, but there you go…
Mysore is different again – very open and grand, with green spaces, wide avenues and roundabouts (which I hadn’t often seen up to now). It was the capital of one of the old Indian kingdoms, and so has a huge, magnificent palace at its heart. In the evening, we were met by Veena, one of the scientists working here and whom I had previously met in Southampton just before Christmas. Even though it was getting on for 8pm, we went shopping! Veena was very keen to get Inga kitted up with a sari, as Mysore is famous for its silk. The silk shops will happily take down any number of carefully folded fabrics and fling them open in front of you. Her choice, a shimmering green-and-gold fabric, will now get adjusted for collection in a couple of days’ time. We also wandered around the market, which was a wonderful experience. Everything was in abundance: fruit; herbs; roots; sweets; colours in general. It was also slightly unnerving, as all the stallholders shouted to you and thrust their produce in your face as you passed. I think this would happen to anyone, but we got it much worse as Westerners!

Quite a frustrating day today. In the morning there was much discussion about the direction one of the projects should take, but it didn’t really involve me and I didn’t have much input. Nevertheless I was expected to be there, either paying attention or getting on with some other bits of work. I was itching to get outside and explore, but I had to remember that of course I am here to work! My colleague Inga is a research assistant and so was due to be shown around ‘in the field’ – i.e. meeting the townspeople participating in the study – and I was permitted to go along. Eventually, getting near 4pm, we set off. We drove down some back streets and right into the centre of the residential district, where we visited two families’ homes to discuss the study thus far (well, the others did anyway!). Both homes were small, but compact, practical and tidy. The only defined rooms were the entrance hall and the kitchen, with a smaller space between for prayer (the families were Hindu, so these spaces were liberally decorated with statues of gods and such like). The bedrooms were alcoves with curtains drawn across to separate them from the rest of the house. The floors were of stone or tiled; the walls were painted in single bright colours.
The other researchers then gave us a whirlwind tour of Vellore’s fort and temple, both many centuries old. Although very large and impressive, they are nothing particularly special for India – or in any case, not special enough for Vellore to be known for them. The imposing walls of the fort house various buildings including local government offices and a police training camp, as well as the temple. Annoyingly, our hosts were intent on driving us swiftly around the site, whereas I’d much rather have got out and strolled about – but then, again, I am at work, as are our hosts, and there are things to get done! But we did get to go into the temple, having removed our shoes and socks. Inside there was an outer courtyard surrounding an inner sanctum. The courtyard was brightly decorated, with various shrines to different Hindu gods on the way round. It was busy, too – it was the day of the harvest festival, and everyone was paying a visit. In the evening, for our last night, the whole team went round to the home of one of the senior scientists for a buffet meal.

This was my first day spent all in the same place. It was, in fact, a day at the office. Not very exciting, but good to be settled. The office was at Vellore’s famous and prestigious Christian Medical College, located in the boulder-strewn hills above the town. Ironically, pretty much the only other thing Vellore is famous for is not being noteworthy for any other reason than its college and associated hospital. The hospital was founded by missionaries to serve what was then a fairly rural area, and the town has since grown up around it. The college campus is lovely – airy, colonial-style buildings standing in well-maintained gardens and grounds. The facilities are sparse, but clean and fairly modern. They have a dial-up Internet connection, so I was able to post some bloggery, but it is very slow so I won’t be uploading any pictures or anything else fancy!

I’ve decided I don’t much like Mumbai. As we circled Bangalore on our approach to land, it looked so much nicer – proper houses with gardens; cricket pavilions; tree-lined avenues (strictly speaking, of course, that’s a tautology!) and a generally cleaner, more civilised character. This impression wasn’t much dented from ground level, either. My boss, Caroline, met us in Mumbai before our departure, and explained that most of that city is reclaimed land, and every monsoon season the whole place gets flooded out, which partly explained why it all looked so shabby. Also, Mumbai is the equivalent of Dick Whittington’s London, being a hub for trade & commerce, film (it’s the home of Bollywood) and talk centres, as well as being a major port. Each new group of hopeful migrants start off sleeping on the streets, then as they find work they can maybe afford a tent, and eventually a shack in a slum – as permanent structures, these are highly sought-after, and expensive due to Mumbai’s restricted land space.
Anyway, I’m returning to Mumbai later in the trip, so enough of that for now. After landing in Bangalore, Ragu, a colleague of Caroline’s, met us with a ‘proper’ cab (a modern-ish Toyota people-carrier thing) to take us on the 5-hour road trip to Vellore. We left the city down those tautologous tree-lined avenues, and although there were still roadside shacks in abundance, they looked… if not thriving, then at least not overly forlorn. The countryside started off completely flat, with numerous small villages which, whilst shabby and distinctly third-world, seemed contented. I had found something more like ‘real’ India, which I was glad about. (The driving was just as bad, though!)
After an hour or so, small round hills began to appear, together with stacks of enormous boulders. The whole landscape looked like God (or an Indian supreme being, I guess) had been playing marbles. It looked like it could be glacial moraine, but Caroline and Ragu both doubted this. It looked remarkable, at any rate. Even better than that, though, was when we stopped for tea at a roadside café and saw MONKEYS!! IN A TREE!! This made my day, as you can tell :D
Soon afterwards it began to get dark, so most of the remainder of the journey I couldn’t see much, especially since there were no street lights in the villages. Our hotel is nice, though, and having my boss around is comforting as she knows the place inside out and can answer all our silly questions. Tomorrow I’ll be starting work, which will also be comforting as I’ll know what I’m about...

It’s 9:20pm GMT, but it’s 2:45am here in my Mumbai hotel room. After a fairly uneventful 8 hour flight, during which I saw various films including Garden State, which I can heartily recommend (thank-you Al!), tolerated BA food, and learned that Spa is in fact an acronym for salus per aquam (‘health through water’), things got a lot more interesting, as you can imagine!
Firstly, it’s nice and warm at around 1am – around the mid-twenties. This probably means it’ll be quite uncomfortable during the day. Things smell different, too – sort of wheat-y I guess. Not unpleasant, just different. Outside the airport (even this late at night) there was a swarming crowd of people – reception parties, taxi drivers, would-be porters and so on. Luckily a man called Deepak was there to guide us through everything. There is a pre-pay taxi system operating from a booth on the way out. Apparently you shouldn’t use ‘normal’ street taxis. We paid at the booth and were given a ticket which showed us which taxi was ours, by the numberplate. Round the corner there was, literally, a field of taxis, all with their drivers dozing within. After Deepak had awoken our driver with a loud knock at the window, we were off on the craziest journey I think I’ve ever taken. The taxi was ancient and very noisy and slow, and there didn’t appear to be any rules of the road whatsoever. Although traffic lights were in abundance, everyone just seemed to slow down slightly and then carry on, whatever the colour of the light. There were also loads of speed-humps, even on the most major highways. Most of them aren’t painted, so you just have to know where they are or face ruining your suspension!
At first I was delighted by all the road-side shacks selling all manner of things, many of which seemed open (at 1am remember), with people standing outside around campfires. It reminded me somewhat of the Glastonbury festival. However, as I got used to this I could appreciate the squalor of a lot of these places. Everything seemed dirty and litter-strewn, with people sleeping out on the streets in abundance (at least it’s warm, I guess) and lots of (presumably) stray dogs. This may take a while longer to acclimatise to. Anyway, now I’m here I’m really excited to get to know the place. Unfortunately, my immediate itinerary is not kind. I’m off to bed now to catch 6 hours or so of sleep, then it’s off to the office to meet up with my boss, and then back to the airport again, for an internal flight to Bangalore. G’night!

First of all, a big thank-you to everyone who came out to the Hobbit on Friday. It was great to have so many of my friends in the same place. I'm very lucky to know you all :)
Saturday was good in the end, too - at about 9pm, I texted a few people to find out what was going on, and two people replied saying they were off to Jesters, with completely different groups of people. I couldn't really refuse! Much gin was consumed.
So, yeah... last day in the office (well, this office, anyway) for a while. Just a few small things to finish off, but not too rushed; which is good, as I'm less likely to forget anything foolish. Like my work laptop, for instance. Or my name (less likely, but you never know...).

I am currently reading "Mutants" by Armand Marie Leroi. It's a fascinating book, and is actually focussed much more on genetics and foetal development than just on the bizarre. There is also lots of historical and biographical information, kind of like a Bill Bryson book. His thesis is that by analysing mutations and deformities we can learn a lot about how our bodies should 'normally' function. His style is informal, frequently witty and generally very easy to read.

Well, quite a big one actually. Because early next Tuesday morning, I’m off to India for just over 2 weeks for my work! No, really. I thought I would make it a surprise! My place of work, the MRC, has various long-standing associations with hospitals and research facilities in India, and a lot of my statistical work is on studies of groups of Indian people. I’ll arrive in Mumbai (Bombay) on Tuesday night, and then spend a few days in 5 different towns with different groups of colleagues. In one of these places, Mahabaleshwar, I’ll be attending a conference and giving a 10min presentation. Here’s a map showing all the places I’ll be going:
The tsunami disaster shouldn’t affect anything – India is a huge and immensely populous place and even Vellore and Pune in the southeast are well inland. My boss reckons that there won’t even be that many people I’ll meet who would have lost friends or family. I suppose it’s as if a catastrophe occurred on the other side of Europe – in the Balkans, say. Its proximity would shake you up, but it’d be unlikely to directly affect you. It’ll be interesting to see, anyway.
I’m still not quite got my head round it all... I’m being far too matter-of-fact about it, and I probably won’t quite believe I’m going until I’m there! I’ll almost certainly be pretty under-prepared, but hopefully after a few days I’ll have gotten used to it enough to start enjoying myself. I’ll be in fairly large towns and staying in fairly good hotels (not brilliant, though – it’s the public sector after all! I doubt I’ll be flying business class, either!), so I’m going to try and maintain a blog – I’ll try and write most days but maybe post a lot all at once when I get the chance.

Oh, and by the way - it's my birthday today! Woooo!

Welcome to my first post of 2005. I intended to post more over the holidays but somehow never quite got round to it. I think it felt too much like work... which is where I'm back at now, of course. Ah well.

Well, the holidays were fantastic. I got to see just about all my old friends (the ones still in the country, anyway), had some nice winter evenings sipping ales in warm pubs, and the family weren't too irritating either (bless 'em)! It was even a white Christmas in the Malverns:



Pretty much everyone is back in Southampton now - we had a good night in the Drummond on Monday, talking about politics, football, relationships, non-Euclidean geometry... you know, the usual... ;-)

If anyone I haven't mentioned this to is reading this: it's my birthday this Friday, and we're all going down the Hobbit for much drinking and frivolity. Join us. Especially if you don't know me. It would amuse me.

I've just finished reading "Last Tango in Aberystwyth" by Malcolm Pryce. Fantastic book; not sure about the ending though. I'll have to read the first one, and then possibly this one again...