Richard stayed with us before the New Year - I met him at Wareham railway station - gusts of wind rocked the cars in the parking bays - each People Carrier contained an anxious dad, rustling the pages of his Daily Mail - there was heavy rain, sluicing the taxis waiting for fares - I could not see Wadey from Jurassic Taxis - the bright windows of The Monsoon promised curries and pints of Ringwood Fortyniner -
Later, after stewed apples and wonderful thimblefuls of Dows finest Reserve Port, sitting by the log fire in the snug, Richard told us some of his travellers' tales -
Kate, Richard said, was still in India, working as a volunteer on an organic farm, somewhere in the foothills of the Himalayas -
There's a picture of her and Jessie - behind them are young men with big beards, like Z Z Top, or miners in a Gold Rush town - they're toting their spades like Kalahsnikovs -
Richard spoke of his bold daughter and her friend, making their way across a vivid crazy sub continent, from the backwaters of Kerala, to the cool air of Shimla - Kate learned her traveller's craft with Richard, in Mindano -
When Richard glanced downwards at the evocative map of Northern India, I felt a surge of nervy excitement and happiness -
I opened my passport so that I could feel the electricity of airports buzzing in my veins -
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