Stamboul Train

With fifty thousand Turkish Airlines miles expiring at the end of this year, train may not be the obvious choice for trips to Istanbul, but after watching Murder on the Orient Express in snow-laden Gyltige, its charm is nevertheless undeniable. Having finished The Quiet American, I wanted to read more of Greene, and the interwar years always hold a special appeal for me.

Unfortunately, for the moment, I am afraid I must focus on the 14-page review of the International Marketing programme in Halmstad that I have to read by tomorrow morning. As so many times before, I find myself wondering whether these ritualized exercises genuinely improve quality over time, or merely consume the energies that ought to be devoted to the work itself.