ALTHOUGH his piled-high dreadlocks resembled decomposing banana while those left dangling looked even worse to this folically challenged traveller, there was much to admire about Jamie.

He wore a full-length brown robe, festooned with strings of beads; classically handsome, his short beard was neatly trimmed. He oozed courtesy, helping the elderly with their cumbersome luggage and rescuing a young Indian mum nearing boiling point with the elder of her two small children. It was the final stage of my month in Nepal; the scene was Kathmandu Airport departure lounge. A four-hour delay because of fog was causing tempers and patience to fray. But Jamie was doing his best to retain smiles on faces.

He was 27 and from Derbyshire, an English graduate from Exeter University who four years ago was finding life in general something of a disappointment. Debt free and with family backing, he decided to head for the Himalayas as the saying goes ‘to find himself’. He spent his time helping in impoverished villages and learning what life was all about. Now he was heading home. It could turn out to be a one-way trip.

I’ve mentioned in earlier reports that the English were few and far between on this trip. Today there was something of a glut – Jamie, me and a rather sour-faced matron-like character sitting about 10 feet away, pretending not to listen but absorbing every word.

Eventually Jamie needed to answer the call of nature. Would I watch his luggage?

The matron watched him go, shaking her white hair as he passed.

“Look at the state of him. Whatever must his mother think?” she pronounced in unmistakable West Midlands tones, betraying prejudice in every one of them.

Proud, I believe, will have been the judgement.

THERE was something special awaiting this traveller back home in Oxford: tickets to the Sunday performance of Riverdance at the New Theatre. The promise of an excellent afternoon made the return to so-called civilisation easier to bear.

I was not disappointed. The production was as fresh and exciting as the one I took my daughter to see almost 20 years ago. Its energy was exhausting. What better could theatregoers hope for as the year nears its end?

Not much – but I still regret that no-one has seen fit to revive Salad Days, the story of fun, love and magic among young university graduates, during this its diamond jubilee year. It overflows with joy and happiness and – as I’ve said before – looking at today’s newspaper headlines and TV reports, we need all the help we can get.