A Brook House

1 Ah, your first day with the family in Delhi. I can imagine the greeting; on reflection, perhaps my imagination does not encompass the extent of the delight and warmth which, I have no doubt, marked your return to the onetime Family Withyham. The young man will have been beside himself with delight. Perhaps he was reluctant to to go to bed; perhaps he had to be assured that you would be there in the morning when, at the appointed time, he opened your bedroom door. Send news. 2 I marked your departure by giving myself an extra hour in bed. It was indeed 0730 before I left the house. Overcast, though not raining. A quiet swim, the Daily Telegraph (with a mug of tea), home to this and that, then to the library. I am closer to the writing stage. (The title of the influential book, remember, is by Charles Taylor.) 3 To Brook House. A convivial, even jaunty, conversation with Ebenezer. n Good news. Following my visit last week, he telephoned his ex-partner and his eight-year-young daughter. He gave me the news with evident pleasure. We talked easily. A return to Ghana? No, he doesn't want to, as he wishes to remain close to his daughter. I know little of his case; indeed, he may not have a case, though he did talk of a solicitor last week. At the time, and since, I have wondered why this man has not been removed to his country of origin. As far as I can recall he didn't claim asylum when he arrived, ten years ago. No, of course he didn't: he entered on a Visitor's visa and overstayed. So what view should I, should we, take? Awaiting for news. Stayathome.