I am married to Gordon Gekko

The transformation has been astonishing! In the time it takes 3 boys to pack up a house and board a plane to India, my wife has turned into a power crazed cross between Anna Wintour and Gordon Gekko. Even I am terrified as she demands her driver fetches this and carries that (oviously the trousers are more often than not a pair of size 36 waist 34 leg grey Farah slacks in our house!) it is quite a sight to see. Have I stepped into some Stepford-like parralel universe? No, I am at Indira Ghandi International but this can't be Amanda can it? It appears so and I have to say it is quite a turn on. She is clearly relishing her new power and ready to exercise it at any moment. Is this going to emasculate me even more? Am I going to be scared to death by her? Bugger me is it hot?*

The journey was incredibly smooth thanks to Mr. Branson and his splendid upper-class facilities. I was obviously walking around like Jack the Peanut, glaring down my nose at anyone who dare ask if I had ever flown with them before. "Of course I had"
I said with indignation (lying through my teeth)
"just not with 2 bundles of pure kinetic energy wired to the moon on E-numbers, anyway what's it got to do with you? Fetch me a beer minion".
The last bit was a lie, I can't do it like Amanda does. I then went one step further in my plans to keep up the facade of "regular gladdy daddy upper class flier" and claimed I knew how to turn the seats into a flat bed (something I subsequently found out required a phd in mech. eng.) and was particularly unwise when I had 3 to do, one of which was for a teething squealing 10 month old! Luckily my pride was kept in tact by a hostess (disapointingly nothing like the ones out of the ads. she may well have been 25 when the first flight flew!) who did it all for me as I "had my hands full" Ahhh face saved.

The flight itself ended in a bit of a mess in that despite my best intentions and preperations Silly still managed to find a way to shit all over my new Ted Baker shirt. This was not the look I had hoped for when dis-embarking in the 40 degree heat of a Delhi summer. It is not often you arrive in Delhi and long for your first inhalation of fresh air but believe me, the slums and rubbish around the airport can't hold a candle to the arse of an 11 month old british baby smacked off his face on skittles!

The reuninon was breathtaking (in more ways than one!) and we fought our way through the traffic, heat and humidity to the sanity of our 5 star hotel. I immediately felt like I had come home, like visiting a place your now dead grandparents lived. You have memories of wonderful times there but now know nobody and everything looks slightly different. In the case of Delhi it is the huge amount of infrastructure being put in place, in the place my grandparents lived it is that Marilyn Monroe's has now become The Cock and Ferrett!

The hotel is beautiful but not the steaming underbelly that I long to get my teeth in to. There is also the excitement of seeing the house for the first time and a really nice Ted Baker shirt to get laundered! My excitement is starting to peak, just hope the boys are ok and that I can get my sleep deprived head around the fact that I am married to Kirk Douglas's son!
Namaste.
* The answers' are yes yes and yes!