Playing Possum
It was the last night of Brazil’s four-day Carnival celebration. Indeed, it was the day itself – it was Mardi-Gras, or Shrove Tuesday as we know it in England – and so we planned to go ashore and watch the revellers. According to the official programme the action was supposed to begin at eight, but we know the score well enough by now to understand that this was just someone’s fantasy; just a statement of what-ought-to-be rather than of genuine…