The new year has begun ...

We came home from a warm and sunny India to a cold and damp Scotland, having missed many days of snow and ice, recharged and ready to install the new show (which, incidentally, is a delight - just as good as we had hoped it would be when we were making plans). The opening celebration, and gallery 15th birthday party, on January 23rd was great fun with many people popping in and out thought the afternoon. Since then things have been going well, and we can truly say that we are back into the swing of things once more.

And if you think I am going to be able to avoid mentioning the holiday, I shall have to disabuse you in the gentlest way possible - India was fabulous. We arrived in bright sunshine at 9am local time, having left Glasgow in the driving snow and about an hour late. There was a moment or two of anxiety as the first plane neared Dubai: were we going to be in time for the connecting flight? But reason prevailed - both flights were with Emirates, and that made it their problem to get us to Cochin as planned. And it all worked fine. We were met at the airport and driven to a lovely 'homestay' on the backwaters, where we slept and read books, with the occasional pause for meals, for two days. It was a delight to recognise street corners or buildings on the drive, and to arrive at a lovely house at the end of it was a pleasure. Two days of sleeping in a hammock, or watching life go by in the garden and on the water, was an ideal preparation for the travelling and for the marvels to come.

The main trip left from a very central hotel in Ernakulam, the group gathering for a communal meal on the third evening of our trip. 12 women and a rather wary guide, Sam - who was a real star and one of the many good things about the holiday. It would be tedious if I were to give a blow by blow account of the next 15 days, but highlights that stick in my mind include dolphins on the crossing to Fort Kochi; trying to explain Widow Twankey to an Australian after a Kathakali performance; Matthew singing on the backwaters; the children at the Little Angels Orphanage and the painted cows running through the flames ....

Elisabet has a wealth of photographs, some of which I will add in the next few days. They will tell more than my hasty words can.