The first 24 hours in India have been crazy. Not crazy bad, more crazy good. From the moment I got off the prehistoric British Airways plane, I knew I was in India. I could feel it, smell it and as soon as I left the airport I could taste it.
To say I underestimated pretty much everything about this ridiculous adventure I’m on, would be something of an understatement. The heat, the distance, the terrain and the toll it would take on me physically and mentally has far surpassed anything I could have ever possibly imagined.
Look, there is nothing like an armchair critic. Some fat fuck sipping a pint, eating a pasty and telling anyone who will listen how he would have scored that free kick, landed the knockout blow or potted the black for a 147 finish. We all know an armchair critic and I’m sure we’ve all been one at some stage of out life.
Do I or don’t I? That is the question I’ve pondered for the last week or so. The reality is I’m an all or nothing kinda guy and honesty (and bluntness) runs through my veins. The long and short of it is, I got robbed just over a week ago and also fell foul to the corrupt Indian police. The less said about them the better at this stage.
I’d grafted for 14 hours to get to my destination for the day. I’d had a nightmare week, like you wouldn’t believe and I was seriously considering my options. I arrived late, but thankfully the hotel had a rather nice restaurant and bar. “Go on old boy you deserve it” I said to myself, so without hesitation, I called; “namaskha bhai; Kingfisher kitna rupee?” In my strange Hindlish accent.
I recently posted my Top 5 book recommendations, which prompted a lot of emails from people suggesting books I might like to read and people who I might like to follow (always very much appreciated). But, by far the most popular question asked was, what I personally took from each of the books I recommended?