MY FIRST VISIT to the tea-growing island of Sri Lanka was in 1981, when I was part of the Guardian newspaper cricket team. Every single man in that bunch of dreamers, cranks and prima donnas fell in love with the place. In our run-down Colombo hotel it would take half an hour for a pot of tea to come at breakfast; when your eggs arrived they might bear no relation to what you'd ordered, but you couldn't face another 40 minutes' waiting so you ate them anyway.
Read Full Article »
