I appear to
have found myself a new friend who is going to Goa
at the weekend and wants to show me around.
His name is Apu (I shit you not).
He is a local boy from a bar that doesn’t sell beer (again, I shit you
not). He looks as gay as a Christmas
tree and he's young enough to be my son but at this stage I’m not really in a
position to be choosy. It’ll be nice to
be with some locals while I find my feet.
My new
landlady Judy is lovely. As are most of
the Indians I have met, to be fair. How
come it’s only miserable ones that live in the east end of London Goa .
She was worried for me as there is no air conditioning on the
train. I’m really not bothered. All I am hoping for is to get to the other
end drama free (sweaty is the least of my worries).
Talking
about worries, my old landlord John has now turned into a massive stalker. He has been waiting about my homestay for me
and calling every hour. On the plus side
he obviously didn’t take the finger jibe to heart. He has invited me to an Independence Day
party on Thursday. I would rather gouge
my own eyes out with a spoon than spend an entire evening with him, so I am going to have to
fake illness (because it appears I am incapable of actually saying no). The squits has to be a winner (not to
actually have, just as a feasible excuse).
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