A bit of a deflating day, Wednesday. I spent the morning fixing to finalise the details of a forthcoming four-day trip to Lesotho, to investigate the country's appalling Aids suffering (more than one-third of the country's population is HIV-positive, including 49 per cent of the women), speak to Government officials, aid workers, Aids-ravaged families and eight-year-old heads of households - and also explore the intriguing-sounding phenomenon of 'herd boys', kids sent into the mountains from the age of five upwards to live, fend for themselves and herd cattle well into their teens...
Only to arrive back in the office and find my boss, having enthusiastically approved the project not long back, now abruptly veto-ing it. Pah... And, furthermore, bah...
Meaning the only mild pleasure of my day was spotting Morrissey strolling down Bond Street this afternoon, tucked under a grey flat cap, looking even greyer in the face himself, and thoroughly weary with this world of woes...
As Jasper Carrott once so aptly put it: you lose some, you draw some...
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