I miss Bombay. I miss Linbaba, Didier and all the others who used to hangout at Leopald’s jesting and philosophizing, saying things like “wisdom is just cleverness with all the guts knocked out of it”, Johnny Cigar and Prabaker (even though they’re dead now), and Karla- where is Karla? But I can’t go back there. It’s been months and even though I think about them often, there’s always something keeping me from them.
First it was Baby Sense, followed by others like it: The Mama Bamba Way, Hypno-birthing, What to Expect when you’re Expecting and now, if I ever do have time to read, which is a rare and lovely occasion, The Irreverent Mothers inevitably get a visit. And I’ve gone and added Gina Ford's Contented Baby on top of that now.
It was obviously WAY over-ambitious for me to have taken a book at the last book club. And a grity account of Islamic extremism and suicide bombings- What was I thinking?! This new book might not get much attention from me any time soon, but I am really looking forward to getting back to Shantaram... if just to stop Robbie from poking fun at me for taking sooooo long to finish it.
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