My generously proportioned suitcase and the contents therein survived the tremors of the Piccadilly line, Heathrow, a 10 hour flight, taxi ride to hotel room in Delhi. Disaster struck when said monster was being loaded onto the train back home from Delhi. After much hassle of plonking the thing remotely close to my seat, I heard excited shouts from passengers in the seats behind, alongside and everywhere really. The shouts translated to "Your suitcase is leaking!". On closer inspection I discovered that my precious container had left a trail of red liquid across the coach.A swift mental checklist followed:
1. Do I have a body (Human/Animal) in the suitcase, chopped into fine bits but without adequate fluid limiting features in the lining?
2. Am I carrying pricey red wine inside with the only protection in the form of a light blue cashmere jumper wrapped around the bottle? Were both these things intended to be gifts for people back in India?
This precise line of questioning yielded a "No" to the first and a sad affirmatory nod to the second.
I now have a suitcase full of stinking,semi-red stuff and the first friendly face in the home-town would have to be the dry-cleaners. And I cut myself while rescuing the shattered contents. Nice.
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