Diary Jottings

It’s so good to be back in Dublin. My apartment is presently a  haven of self-proclaimed treasures. It fields a growing collection of world cinema, music and books.  I have invested in a fair bit, in the last two years.  It’s also lovely to be back with Des.  When the plane stopped on the runway at dawn and passengers had to troop into the airport with faint amusement, the sharp nip appeared refreshing. The  singular thing that weighed me down in the Far East was the heavy humidity.  Even raindrops felt overly warm.  Of course, there is air-conditioning everywhere but a 5-minute run outdoors would often leave me drained.  The sunshine stopped being fun. That was the biggest drawback. I am no good with overbearing heat. East Africa believe it or not is far cooler.

I can attest as a Malaysian that  my childhood was never painfully humid. There were always breezes.  However, vast amounts of deforestation that would occur in subsequent years changed  the direction of monsoon winds forever.  Also,  global warming dangers have not helped.

I received an email from my mountain guide today, eager that I return to my Kilimanjaro climb soon. This is the third time on a customised route and I hope to reach the summit.  It looks like the next several weeks have already been paved in gold for me.  For the moment,  I can return to writing about books and literature at my own pace and indulge in some creative works of my own.  My feet are not yet warm from an ever-comforting Irish soil.

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