list to keep blog ticking over

1. Sam Miller is a good writer, very humble and so generous. His love for Delhi endears him to me greatly, even though a few Indian english jokes seep through his self-imposed embargo in 'Delhi: adventures in a megacity'. I remember loving 'City of Djinns' when I read it, years ago now, but Miller's take on Delhi seems much bigger in scope, more shrewd and delightfully unselfconscious, even though he keeps talking about his bad knee.
2. I've OD'ed on American TV again; I'm dreaming in Scrubs and Frasier. And this when I should be working on a bunch of questionnaires for my Zambia trip.
3. I'm going to Zambia. I've really been thrown in at the deep end. The boss of the international development team kept threatening to do so, but somehow I didn't believe they would leave me, a complete novice, to write a very important socio-economics chapter, compliant with international standards, and with no briefing or instruction. How can they risk their project and their relationship with their client this way? The Bear's take is more cheerful though - huge responsibility with no risk. He thinks I should grab the opportunity by the balls. And I would, if it wasn't for my old friend - crippling fear.
4. Frank Herbert's epic fiction 'Dune' (which then spawned an inferior series of sequels) had a phrase which has stuck in my head. 'Fear is the mind killer / Fear is the little death'. Really, the Bene Gesserit witches swear by it. When I remember the phrase in time, the crippling quality of the fear lessens.
5. We went cycling in Richmond Park twice, at the last two weekends. It's pure joy. The park is of course, beautiful and varied. But the fact that I was cycling was very liberating. I fear and therefore avoid almost all physical activities. Cycling, though, I always loved as a child and as a teenager. That rush came back to me recently. Yesterday we tried our hand at controlling the bikes on road, inside the park. The speed was thrilling; park cycle paths are always bumpy and I had forgotten the feel of a smooth metal road sailing by beneath my narrow tyres. I raced some deer for a bit, before losing my nerve at a busy roundabout and pulling abruptly over onto the grass. The bear managed it smoothly then came back to watch sympathetically from the sidelines as I, terror clearly writ on my face, attempted to navigate the traffic again.
6. The bear is absolutely wonderful. Among many other things, early this morning he stood in a visa queue for me, while I belatedly ran about in trademark headless chicken manner trying to find a passport photo booth that worked.

That was my update. Don't think I haven't realised that blogging is another way to keep actual work at bay!