Spiritual preparation: For the last two days I have been reading the website of the prayer group at St Trinquan’s. It is quite different from anything I have seen so far in any church. For instance while they do pray to Jesus, they do not use any of the traditional pictures of our lord. Instead they refer to him as the ‘Scientist’ and the ‘Celestial Researcher’. And all the pictures on their website show him holding Bunsen burners and chemistry beakers.

Strange.

However I have been saying some of the prayers on the website before going to bed. (Only the free ones. For the other prayers you need to make a £25 donation to charity for the full text. Only first paragraphs are put up on the website.)

I think it gives me a certain peace of mind.

As you can see Diary, I am taking Project Mohanlal very seriously. Maybe a little too seriously? Perhaps. But I would rather overdo Mohanlal than underdo Mohanlal.

God only knows when the meeting will be scheduled.

Tingling with excitement.

6.13 p.m.

Yes!

The adrenalin is pumping now. Like they say in Alistair MacLean books I can feel the faint metallic taste of adrenalin in my mouth.

I can’t wait to intellectually shoot Tom with the machine gun of our strategic plans.

6.15 p.m.

Sorry. That was a piece of granola bar wrapper stuck between my teeth.

Still … I am feeling extremely pumped up. Energy is coursing through my veins …

Maybe I should do a few pushups.

6.16 p.m.

Personally I don’t think pushups are required for this kind of project. So I am just going to focus on mental conditioning for now.

Be cool. Be calm. Maintain composure. Focus. I can do this. I will do this.

8.34 p.m.

MEETING TOMORROW MEETING TOMORROW MEETING TOMORROW …

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.

Ok I need to calm down. Calm down. Think positive thoughts. Calm down.

Breathe. Breathe …

27 March 2007

7.15 a.m.

The one day I want to sleep properly in preparation for my Project Mohanlal. And that same day this very weird fucker bastard decides to come and wake me up in my hotel room.

Someone knocked on the door at 6.30 in the morning and I instinctively thought it was housekeeping and told them to come back later. But then I heard this mumbling sound from outside the door. Once again I screamed at them to come back later.

The mumbling does not stop. So I wake up, quickly pick up my lungi and then open the door. Outside the door there is a thin, short man wearing a terribly unironed suit that is at least two sizes too big for him. Honestly speaking it looked as if someone had asked him to wear the suit and then put him in a washing machine. And then only he had shrunk.