It would be hard not to love Frank Kusy, even when you realise that you've accidentally bought a book that's completely not what you're expecting. I thought this would be another of Kusy's excellent travel experience books but 80% of the book was a fascinating account of working in an old people's home in Clapham in the 1980s. Now if you'd told me that was the topic - or rather if I'd bothered to read the synopsis - I probably would have passed on this one, but I'm glad I didn't know, as I really enjoyed reading about the crazy world of elderly care. The 20% of Frank getting into his Buddhist chanting and taking his first trip to India (the subject of his wonderful book 'Kevin and I in India') was almost a letdown after his adventures with feisty old ladies, frisky old men and the challenges of management.
Mostly I felt sad as he recounted the way that such care homes changed in just the short time he was working there from being places for frail old folk to becoming dumping grounds for the crazy and incontinent when local authorities would no longer stump up the money to help those who needed more gentle support.
The Buddhism is interesting - but not quite as interesting as I suspect it's intended to be - and the trip to Israel to rescue his wandering client is a lot of fun. But now I need more of Kusy in India.