I took the train to Agra today. Having experienced the balancing act of hole in the floor toilets on a moving train I thought I would be ok even though you can end up with wet feet but I was not prepared for the train doing an emergency stop while in the crouching position. The result? Elegant it was not. So food that was destined for passengers 'lunch ended up on the carriage floor. For those who had already been served I imagine they suffered most. Having dispatched the cow that had wondered onto the line we went to the next station where a street trader was dispatched to bring food. I was given a carton of steaming vegetable curry and rice. I am in a small 'green' hotel, no air conditioning, just ceiling fans but in a lovely setting. I have lost count of the number of people who want a selfie with me. Apparently they like grey hair. Of course I have to make sure their hands aren't dipping into my rucksack!
I don't want to hear another person say that women should be equal to men. There is no 'should' about it, women ARE equal to men but they are not treated equally. It has never occurred to me that I am not equal to any man. Am I treated equally? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. It requires a step change in the way women think of themselves as being equal before we can hope for attitudes, legislation, economics to follow and that is my rant for the day. Ever since I have lived in France I have noticed a stark difference between the French and the British sense of humour. The dry, irreverent humour of the British is completely wasted on the French, and the Dutch and the Americans sometimes for that matter. Clearly the British humour is unique. Yesterday I gave an article to a French friend to read. It was a humorous piece, self deprecating about a woman suffering an attack by an insect on her face with hideous result...
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