The first line from my story ‘The Many Lives of Zorro’, contained in the above treasure trove of Iris Wildthyme barminess. It’s nearly the first line of a different book, one of my favourites, but veers off at the end.
Wildthyme In Purple arrived here in Delhi today. A little late, but blaming Iris for her tardiness is a little like castigating rain for being wet. It’s just one of her defining characteristics. As you can see, her latest tome is a lively, chunky thing, and as lovely as you could hope for. No need to take my word for it. If you’re in the UK then grab a copy from the publisher. In the US, you can save on some international shipping by going to WhoNA, and if you’re a reader of E you can grab an electronic copy to suit most devices direct from the Obverse ebook store.
In other news, I was in Jalandhar last week, one of the oldest cities in India’s Punjab region. You can’t really feel that history, wandering about it. Jalandhar looks and feels broken, although it’s furiously busy, and could never be mistaken for a dead place. There’s not much to see. I paid a gent to peddle me around for a bit, just to be sure. This is us leading the charge onto a busy junction.
You can only admire my driver’s Matrix-style approach to the terrors of Indian traffic. “There is no road…” At those junctions where there were no traffic lights (most of them, all a terrifying free-for-all), he got off and pushed. I suspect this was so that he could easily hurl himself out of the way of oncoming trucks. Ultimately, new bicycles are easy to come by, as are new passengers.
Still, I was glad of him. It would have been a terribly dull overnight stay, were it not for his efforts.