I really must do something about the window to my study, which seems to spring open all too regularly in the cold evenings. Because of my ajar window as I type I am being inflicted with a chilly draft coming off the hill to the south. Much worse than that though has been the incessant serenading from the house across the way. In characteristic Nepali style it is rather monotonous, with just a whiff of alcohol in its tuneless delivery. Most bizarrely one of the pieces that I have had to endure has included a drawling rendition of "Gloria Inexcelsis". This has only served to reinforce what a very unusual Christmas this has been.
Yes, it's of course been fantastic with the news of Alisha's adoption being approved but this latter has involved us being in the freezing mausoleum of a Foreign Ministry building on Christmas morning trying to progress her paperwork. I watched, bemused, as a slob of a self-important official sat crouched over his desk literally pushing the paperwork around the table top, fingering and re-fingering it but doing little else. He was dressed in padded jacket and had an electric radiator trained on each leg, all contributing towards his general air of indolence. I commented to the chap who accompanied from the orphanage that a guy like this wouldn't last five minutes back in the West. He's clearly made a success of himself in Nepal.
