13June1995

London: 13th June 1995
My dear folks,

It's Tuesday evening. Another grey one. It's been quite cold - if I say so myself. When the little blue tags (for minus temps) appear on the electronic weather map within spitting distance of mid-summer's day, one blinks. And one is blinking right now. There's been a stream of cold air from the north Atlantic. I'm not complaining, mind you. I rather like it. Chills the knuckles on the bike, but helps me to sleep like a dream. It's easy enough to warm our little nest, all but impossible to cool it.

Jones held a ladies' luncheon today to celebrate the visit of Maureen and Marielle. Half a dozen acquaintances rolled up with tributes of flowers and other goodies. I gathered from her that it went okay. Jones had time only for a few words on my return from work before rushing out - against her inclinations - for dinner with her guests. It’s Marielle's last night (I think). Maureen will be staying on a while (if she's good). Jones returns to Portugal on Sunday morning and I follow her four weeks later.

Thank you for your fax, Kevin, hard on the heels of Ann's. Do I get the impression that it's bad policy to ask the mildest of questions about reported kart speeds? Well, don't get us wrong for a moment. We highly-trained journalists automatically check our facts (when it suits us. The rest of the time we just make it up, as you know). That's all there was to it. (And we can't be blamed if our recollection of karts is putt-putting around a green-mamba exercise circuit in topless golf cart with a private bar on board.) Our compliments to our nephew were sincere enough. He had clearly driven the race of his life.

Jones, like Kevin, has found her life running out of control since she stopped working for a firm and started working for herself. She has never been so busy, either. I confess I wonder whether destiny has a nasty sense of humour. The London visit has inevitably been largely taken up with the care of her guests. And she has been fretting about my back which, blessings be, is steadily improving. (A bit more care called for!) But I have not liked the look of the tense, slender (scrawny??) figure I see, and told her so. We talked long and hard about her embarking on a programme to put on weight. She kinda nods in agreement but makes no secret of her liking for her current high-exercise, low-calorie lifestyle. I guess we'll have to work things out. It ain't going to be quick or easy, though, that's clear.

And me, I continue editing Asia Today, a little pool of tranquillity in the storm whipped ocean of the newsroom. I've quite enjoyed it. It means scanning the following day's diary and trying to set up a programme that will look at the events facing Asia during the day ahead -- quite difficult when you're working the previous day, so to speak. And especially when your correspondents are all going to bed more or less as you settle down to work. There was the nastiest of incidents recently when a new journalist cut the wrong pictures into a report we transmitted on Kashmir (a proper hornets' nest of humanity, if ever there was one.) The political pooh hit the fan in no uncertain manner & gave me a side view of top-level crisis management as the brass tried to undo the damage. I gave quiet thanks that I was not the unfortunate soul concerned. She must have wanted to curl up in a corner and die. And it's so easy! There but for the grace of God.....! Truly, I give thanks for many blessings.

Let me get this off before Mum's bedtime comes. From me and Mave, greetings around the globe!