Sunday, March 20, 2005
The occupational hazard of a travelling journalist has struck me down, and I'm sitting in my hotel room with a virulent stomach upset. I can't go to the ground, obviously, because there is just one filthy Indian commode for a few thousand people in the stands where the press box is located (thank you Mr Dalmiya), and I'm feeling too weak to climb the stairs anyway. It's a bummer, being here on what could be a great final day, and having to watch it on TV at the hotel. The service here is so marvellous that these guys have refused to get me medicine because "we don't have manpower, sir". So if my bulletins suddenly stop appearing today, you know why.