I have just spent a fascinating 10 days in Northern India - Taj Mahal (dimly spotted through the fog), tiger safari (no tigers), Jaipur etc. Lasting impression was of small oases surrounded by unbelievable squalor and relentless poverty. Don't expect India to emerge as a first world superpower any time soon. Huge social welfare problems to be solved first. One of the penalties Western tourists suffer by booking packaged tours (and there's no other way of sensibly and safely exploring the maelstrom that is India) is the dreaded but inescapable 'visit to the craft shop'. You never ask for these to be put on your tour schedule, but they always appear on it. One of our ever-so-friendly-hope-I-get-a-ridiculous-tip guide even cancelled some temple visit or other (mercifully perhaps) to make sure we had enough time to be assailed by his commission-paying chum in the decorated marble plate / carpet / pashmina / carved elephant / sari / jewellery or whatever flavour of 'so...
My kids call me Grom (Grumpy Old Man). OK, pedants will know that ought to be GOM, but a Grom sounds grumpy. I started building internet businesses in the 1980s and these days invest in other peoples' start-ups. Now that less of my life is about to happen than has happened, I've got a lot to get off my chest. This blog is a series of posts about things that annoy me, things that excite me or things that just need to be said. Grumbles of a Grom... Grombles