This’ll be brief. For once.

For only the second time this adventure, following on from the week of getting stupidly off my face with strangers-cum-friends in Newcastle, Australia, I am once again flying solo.

To work my way back into such a life, I decided to take a break not only from company but from really doing much of anything on my own. Where better, then, than the white beaches and blue waters of South Goa?

Unlike the other stops undertaken in India, there has been a marked shift in the number of ruby red sunburnt Brits, decidedly short (dare I say rude?) Russians, and a smorgasbord of nationalities for whom, based on their dress, demeanour, and hair, should probably be thinking about heading home. I am well aware that it could be alleged that I am a member of the ‘it’s time’ club. I see no hypocrisy here.

I have really done next to nothing but swim, run (twice), read (loads), lounge around on beaches, and complete the main story of Resident Evil 7. I had planned to visit Old Goa further North but I partook in a facetime call with Roberts and Hudgey which, regrettably, meant I was far too hungover to face an hour and forty journey north and then back. Shame. Next time.

The one excursion of note (bar visiting the aforementioned array of beaches) was to take in an Indian Premier League match between FC Goa and  Odisha FC. The quality was decidedly mixed (aka shonky) but as a Charlton Athletic season ticket holder of 23ish years, whom am I to judge? The supporters were relatively low in number but made up for it with plenty of noise and PASSION. FC Goa (whose away kit this season is banging) ran out 3-1 winners with two goals, including a penalty, in injury time. Odisha’s goal was miles offside but again, the quality of linos appears to be consistent across and between continents.

I’ve eaten seriously good sea food, drunk plenty of Kingfisher and People’s lager (from the local Goan brewery), and read loads. I’ve:

• Finished ‘Railsong’ by Rahul Bhattacharya. Excellent read well in keeping with a number of the books I’ve read this trip.
• Flicked through and read a decent chunk of ‘Comrades and Comebacks: The battle of the left to win the Indian mind’. Dreadful. Absolutely dreadful. A book whose introductory chapter listed Che Guevera and Jacinda Arden as key revolutionary figures on the left. A couple of interesting post-it note histories of left movements in different regions of India were worth reading but otherwise real drivel.
• Re-read (for the God knows what time) DBC Pierre’s ‘Vernon God Little’ which remains every bit as brilliant as all previous readings.
• Taken a decent chunk out of Manoj Mitta’s meaty ‘Caste Pride: Battles for Equality in Hindu India’ which is a comprehensive look through the earliest legislation related to Caste in India. It’s great.

I have rewatched ‘Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse’ which remains a rip-roaring romp, and, as noted, have finished Resident Evil 7, on my own, without soiling myself in fear. Well done me.

I’m now in Mumbai and it is a riot of colour, activity, and cricket. It’s fantastic. Will have more to say with that post that’s for sure.

And finally…

I would be remiss if I didn’t continue this trend of commenting on the international situation. Donald Trump describing Pope Leo… the fucking Pontiff… as ‘soft on crime’ is, objectively, absolutely hilarious.

We remain doomed.