Just one more thing

Colombo is a pretty town, all lush and verdant in sharp contrast to Bombay. Life here seems to be good: there’s no evident vast wealth, but there’s also little sign of the extreme poverty that scars every city in India.

Six months or so ago, the Sri Lankan civil war finally ended. Everyone reports that life is infinitely more relaxed, as you’d imagine now that the threat of suicide bombers and air raids has receded. But the signs of recent conflict are still everywhere: the ubiquitous soldiers with big guns, a two-mile late-night car journey stopped three times at checkpoints by security forces (one of whom seems to be pissed). Next morning, the Daily News under my hotel door is blatantly just government propaganda: Pravda in paradise.

Getting off my late-night plane back, there’s a large party of tall young men in matching suits just ahead of me in the immigration queue. They are getting a lot of attention for 3 a.m., and I suddenly recognise one or two of them: it’s the Sri Lankan cricket team.

I can exclusively report that their Aussie coach Trevor Bayliss argued with the immigration man about his swine flu declaration form; that mystery spinner Ajantha Mendis had to wait ages for his suitcase, holding up the rest of the team; and that star batsman Mahela Jayawardene is surprisingly short.

Good spying work. I should be a detective. Where’s my trenchcoat?