I'm at a new stage of post-India withdrawal, the sense that I skimmed the surface so superficially as to have really seen nothing. This is doubtless untrue in one sense, since I wouldn't have needed to go through the last phase, if true in another: it was just three weeks, after all, when most people seem to spend months and years there, not to say lifetimes!
The somewhat less demanding pleasures of this life here, in Melbourne, now, as summer yields to a new school year, are nicely characterized in the Leunig calendar for this month. If he doesn't mention the happiness of returning to your manuscript and finding it just as you left it, perhaps that's because it's not an entirely happy occasion. While I've been out and about, it's just been sitting here, sulking. And now it's punishing me with "you don't really care about me at all, do you?" and "do you even remember who I am?"
We'll work it out, I'm sure.