Time at last to start the famous journal; well famous in the sense that everyone whom I met before beginning this trip said: “Are you going to write a journal?” So hopefully after I have written it, it will become famous.
I am currently lying on my Hotel bed in the Kerwala Chambers Guest House in Colaba, Bombay. It’s three in the afternoon and hot as fuck so I’ve stripped down to my shorts and am presently enjoying the air that is circulating thanks to that big fan thing on the ceiling.
Outside is the constant clanging of hammers from builders opposite my window – repairing what looks to be the interior of a new hotel or guest house; also, the constant squawks from the large family of ravens nesting under every rooftop in the district.
I have just read the above three paragraphs and immediately want to make some grammar corrections and other changes. Oh if only I had my Psion.
Have just tried for about twenty minutes to get the DV to work – it’s refusing to do most things like record, eject etc. Bollocks. What bloody good is that? It’s probably the humidity that’s fucking it up.
Getting to the point.
I shall start from the beginning because that’s where all the best journals start …