This exquisitely written, searingly graphic, often hilarious but fundamentally flawed portrayal of life and loves in Regency London, I had looked forward to reading for months. I would take it out of my bookshelf and sniff the pristine pages. It was a beautifully produced volume.

It proved to be a massive disappointment. (Con’t, blog.dodman.org/)

Beach Babe

No gears. dodgy saddles

Beach Bloke

Premier Cabanas Beach Huts (Number 11, up the steps and second along on the right).

Resting in the shade

Number 11 (with me sitting on the verandah)

Having recently returned from India, I am much struck, on seeing myself and my wife in sundry mirrors, how we both look as if we have been painted with several coats of Ronseal.

Highlights of our visit:

Swimming off Palolem beach. Cycling through the back lanes of Benaulim. Crossing the ferry at Old Goa. Sipping hot lemon tea in Colva. Eating Tuna, chips and salad at George Ferandes. Spooning in papaya flesh at every opportunity.

Lowlights:

No gears on Indian bikes. No pomelos. Sunburn on first day. Gokarn.

On our way out, at Gatwick, in the early hours of the morning, there were only two flights besides ours, both to Madrid. One was full of disgruntled Real Madrid fans, who traipsed through the airport looking forlorn. The other was reserved for the players, all wearing identical suits, large knots in their ties, and pulling behind them the same sized suitcases on wheels. One weasel faced individual with blond hair and a half smile looked vaguely familiar. I only realised who it was when people started calling out, ‘Hey, David!’, snapping their cameras and asking him for his autograph, as he passed within a couple of feet of us.

The one thing Palolem has, apart from great swimming, etc, is deep shade from its many coconut trees. Agonda is much less crowded, but too hot. We went on a great cycle ride yesterday and stumbled across some lovely beaches but nothing can beat the luxury of deep shade, in my view, especially when that view is of the milk warm sea from a hut on stilts.

Actually, the hut on stilts seems to be inhabited by rats who ate my chocolate last night. Maybe time to move on.

We just watched India score too many runs in the Goan ODI. 

Don’t bother collecting us. We’ll get the last train or spend the night at Gatwick. 

Well, we’re in Palolem at last, having finally expunged ourselves of the hell that was Gokarn: a place that may be the stepping stone to nirvana for Hindus and fellow spiritual travellers but to me seemed loathsome.

We’re staying at Premier Cabana, Hut 11, in case fellow blog readers (ie, Slightly) should be in the locality. We may move on to Agonda, but Palolem is good for a day or two.

This internet cafe is selling 3 tickets for the ODI. 400 rupee tickets for 1000 rupees. About fifteen quid. I’ll probably just watch it on a shack telly.

I’ll wear a suit. I have a white one in store that needs an outing. No tie, though. I trust a black teeshirt will be acceptable.

That rock Geoff dived off. If it’s the one I think it is, he’s lucky to be alive!