So here I am, 1 month later, sat
in my house in the great British countryside, with clean clothes, a working
shower, drinking water straight from the tap, sat on a comfy sofa, with a glass
of red wine in hand. This is everything I missed while I was away so why
doesn’t it feel as great as I imagined? I find myself missing so much I never
thought I would while I was there; the hustle and bustle of the streets and trying
to avoid getting run over. Buying freshly squeezed orange juice at the side of
the road on a hot day. The jolly old man who owned our local corner shop who
must have thought we had the worst diets ever! Feeling like the coolest, most
attractive person ever while walking down the street even when in reality you
actually look dreadful. Having people in my apartment keeping me awake at night
playing the world’s loudest game of snakes and ladders. Having to shower under
a waist-high tap. Being able to walk to the shops in my pyjamas with my face
covered in paint without anyone looking twice. Forcing 5 people into a 3-seater
auto and getting dead legs. The noise (it’s so quiet here!). Having a large
group of friends nearby, always up for doing something and willing to act as
tour guides. Countless invites to family dinners. Walking into school and being
mobbed by a group of kids who look up to me even though I don’t really know
what I’m talking about most of the time. Finding surprise videos of the kids
misbehaving on my camera. Just generally being adored, though I am probably
just misinterpreting fascination and good hospitality.
Basically, what I’m trying to
say is I BLOODY MISS INDIA!
