Features
Going off to a new life in Singapore
Sold my appliances and pyrex to Abans to pay my bond
by Sumi Moonesinghe narrated to Savithri Rodrigo
Our romance flourished. We kept seeking ways to be together, keeping our meetings under wraps and very secretive. Most often, our rendezvous was at the hotel where it all began, Hotel Suisse in Kandy. We always booked adjoining rooms – 91 and 92 — and met over the weekends. We would leave on Friday evening and return on Sunday, but deliberately traveled separately.
I was under the impression that our relationship was top-secret, but Susil’s friends had by now deduced the story and would rib him whenever they met him about the young lady he had fallen in love with. This included Susil’s good friend Upali Wijewardene, probably one of the country’s earliest successful entrepreneurs and founder of the Upali Group. He took to teasing Susil incessantly with the coined phrase, “91-92”.
I had been invited to the Asia-Pacific Broadcasting Union (ABU) meeting in Manila. The ABU is a collective of over 260 members from 70 countries and a member of the World Broadcasters’ Union with the mandate to develop broadcasting in the region. Being a broadcast engineer, I was very excited to be among other similar-minded professionals. After my training at the BBC, this would be first time I would be having a dialogue and participating in discussions in not just broadcast engineering, but standards, systems and frequencies pertaining to radio and television. And another reason for me to be excited; as the head of CBC, Susil too had been invited to the ABU meeting.
When we returned to Sri Lanka after the meeting, Susil took my passport, saying it was for safekeeping. By this time, I was totally in love with him and never asked questions. He also told me he had decided to leave his wife. Throughout this time, I had well-meaning friends who would advise me about my actions. They would constantly tell me how wrong I was in engaging in an affair with a married man, that I was breaking up a family and as a last resort, that I deserved better, in an attempt to tap into my self-worth and dignity.
It wasn’t that I didn’t know right from wrong. I understood that my friends were right and what I was doing was wrong. But the attraction was just too strong and there was also that stubborn recklessness in me that must have liked taking things to the edge – living on the brink. I just carried on regardless.
It was understood now that we were together.
When I underwent a minor surgical procedure, it was Susil who visited me in hospital every day, feeding me meals prepared by his mother. He came from a family where sons could do no wrong especially in a mother’s eyes and hence, when he did tell his mother about me, she seemed to approve. It was not that I didn’t have my bouts of good sense kicking in. There were times when I would feel a semblance of guilt and cut off all communication with Susil. Then it was his mother who would call me and plead on her son’s behalf.
Since Susil had told me he was leaving his wife, it was more or less understood that the next step was marriage although he never articulated it until many months later. While returning from Kandy one day, he said, “You must say ‘Yes’ to getting married.” Susil had this way of asking me things and I could never say “No” because I was deeply in love with him. But this time, I stood my ground. “No way,” I said quite adamantly. “I’m going back to England. I want my passport back!” But of course that never happened.
As luck would have it, Susil was going on an official trip and we decided that I would join him. I took a month’s leave from the station. To avoid any unnecessary gossip, he left earlier and I joined him later in Karachi. From there, we first went to Paris so he could attend to some work pertaining to CBC. As a businessman, Susil had acquired a wide network of contacts and we were wined and dined quite extravagantly; although when it was just the two of us, we spent some idyllic moments – cruising on the River Seine and walking the streets of Paris.
From Paris, we flew to London. Susil had obtained special [permission from Prime Minister Sirimavo Bandaranaike to visit London and Paris, citing a need to meet the people he had met in broadcasting circles. In London, he called Mrs. Bandaranaike and asked if he could go to Washington DC as well. Again she agreed, but asked him to meet the Sri Lankan High Commissioner in London and the Ambassador in Washington DC.
Susil would never let me leave his side. He took me wherever he went, which also meant I was with him at every one of his official meetings, lunches and dinners. So, I accompanied him to dinner at High Commissioner Tilak Goonaratne’s official residence in London and then, when we got to Washington, to Ambassador Dr. Neville Kanakaratna’s residence as well. While in DC, Susil took me to a play at the Kennedy Center and I laughingly reminded him of the play we went to in Colombo, when he couldn’t take his eyes off me.
We traveled from Washington to Hong Kong and stayed at the Mandarin Hotel. From there, it was onto Singapore. Somewhere along this trip, we had decided that we would definitely get married. But that decision also meant many feathers would be ruffled in Sri Lanka. We realized that given Susil’s status both in politics and in society, we couldn’t continue living in Sri Lanka after we married.
Having thought long and hard about what we could do, when we landed in Singapore, I made contact with the Chairman of Singapore Television whom I had met at the ABU Conference in Manila. I asked him if he could find me a job and he unhesitatingly said “Yes” because my training in colour television at the BBC was a rare commodity. At very short notice, he organized an interview for me with the Head of the Singapore Institute of Research Dr. Lee Kum Tat, who offered me the post of lecturer at the Singapore Polytechnic, the first and oldest polytechnic in Singapore. My new appointment would give me the status of an expatriate lecturer plus a very attractive salary and a lovely apartment to top the deal off.
With this job in hand and knowing we had a route out of the country, Susil and I took the flight back to Colombo. With my job confirmed at the Singapore Polytechnic, my next task was to resign from my post at CBC. I quickly wrote my resignation letter and handed it to the Director General of CBC. The resignation was readily accepted. We could never have predicted however, that the acceptance of that letter was to be his last official duty as Director General of CBC.
As we landed in Colombo, the news hit us that Susil had been dismissed from his post at CBC. Neither of us could understand the reason but Susil surmised that it was the powerful Minister of Public Administration Felix Dias Bandaranaike who was instrumental in the dismissal. It was well known that since the attempted coup d’etat in January 1962 when a group of officers from the military and police planned to topple Sirimavo Bandaranaike’s Government, Felix was responsible for aborting that coup and the investigations that followed and had thus become a very influential member of her cabinet.
Mrs. Bandaranaike entered politics in 1960 following the assassination of her husband Prime Minister S W R D Bandaranaike by a Buddhist monk at their Rosmead Place home Tintagel. She was the first woman Prime Minister in he world. Her Government stayed in power until 1965 when she lost the election, but she remained in Parliament as the Leader of the Opposition. She regained power in 1970 with her United Front Coalition, a triad of the Communist Party, Lanka Sama Samaja Party and the Sri Lanka Freedom Party.
This was 1970 and Mrs. Bandaranaike’s second stint as Prime Minister. Susil concluded in hindsight, that after a decade in politics, Mrs. Bandaranaike should be a mature politician and didn’t quite need to be influenced by her cousin Felix. But there was no point in pondering over questions we didn’t have answers to. Whatever the reasons and whoever directed it, Susil had been dismissed.
During our one month away, we had been blissfully unaware of the wheels which had begun turning in Sri Lanka in our absence. Susil’s wife Ganga had heard about us and visited my parents, of which again, I was unaware. Having no inclination of Ganga’s visit to Kegalle, I made my habitual visit to see my parents after we returned from our one month overseas. They never confronted me but kept repeating, quite vehemently, that I shouldn’t return to Colombo.
This insistence went on for hours, with my mother in tears and my sister very upset. Ignorant of what had transpired, this behaviour was quite baffling to me until my little niece spilled the beans. In all her innocence, she said, “A fair aunty came in a big car from Colombo to see Achchi and Seeya.” I deduced this was Ganga as being of Sindhi’ descent she was fair complexioned and the big car was the Moonesinghe car.
In the close-knit environment of my conservative village in Kegalle, gossip is rife. Everyone knows everything about everybody and news generally spreads like wildfire. So, if someone says, “Your daughter has eloped with a married man,” there would be absolute loss of face for my family. They were teachers who had always been held in high esteem in Kegalle and a black mark like this would be hard to bear. Susil’s family, on the other hand, were hardly affected because his mother already knew about us and these things were accepted as part of life. There was nothing scandalous.
Despite my family’s pleadings, I had to get back to Colombo. My sister’s husband drove me back. It was quite a silent drive as there was quite a dark cloud of unspoken questions that needed answers hanging over our heads.
Colombo was teeming with the news. I had never realized this would be the way it all panned out. It became unbearable and I just wanted to escape. To assuage some of the troubles that kept bubbling to the surface, Susil wisely got a seat for Ganga on the inaugural Air Lanka flight to London so she would be spared the gossip that was swirling the city.
However, Ganga wouldn’t let things slide by so easily. Once she got to London, she made contact with my boyfriend, who until this point was unaware of the series of events that had unfolded in Colombo. I hadn’t told him anything. On hearing the entire story from Ganga, he subsequently told me he was heartbroken beyond comprehension and even had bouts of disbelief. “I still believed we were going to get married,” he said. It transpired eventually that we would remain good friends, with our families intertwined in that strong friendship we nurtured decades ago.
The next step was paying my bond. Since I had resigned from my job at CBC, I was obligated to repay my bond which was quite sizable at that time. On my various trips abroad, I had stocked my home at Sulaiman Terrace with a range of duty free appliances. I put them up for sale. There was a Hoover polisher, Electrolux vacuum cleaner, Belling cooker, Necchi sewing machine and Pyrex dishes, all of which in the 1970s constituted a treasure trove.
The country was pursuing an economy shaped by socialist ideology, which in the simplest of terms, brought on a ban on imports and import substitution. My appliances therefore proved to be a boon for one innovative entrepreneur, Aban Pestonjee, who was just starting off her business. She would eventually found one of the biggest conglomerates in the country, the Abans Group of Companies, and be the first entrepreneur to introduce Korean technology to Sri Lanka. A remarkable woman indeed!
Susil’s uncle was the High Commissioner in Canberra, and a few years earlier, Susil had sent his daughter Tara to study in Canberra under his care. However, with all that was going on, Ganga brought Tara back to Sri Lanka, much against Susil’s wishes. This disrupted Tara’s education and added to the complications. Ganga left no stone unturned to get Susil back.
Susil finally did leave Ganga and came to stay with me at Sulaiman Terrace with just the clothes on his back, two pairs of trousers and a few shirts. I lost nearly all my friends during this period. I had Loretta who stood steadfastly by my side, allowing us to stay with her until we left for Singapore. I also remember my friend Nali’s husband, whom I had known from 1960, sitting with me for two hours and coaxing me to rethink what I was doing. I was treated like a pariah because everyone felt sorry for Tara, the child caught in the middle, a reaction that was understandable.
Just before we left for Singapore, I went with Susil to see my parents to tell them about my job offer and that I was leaving Sri Lanka for some time. My mother didn’t come out to see me and only my father spoke with me. I remember him telling me, “I have faith and trust in your ability to make decisions for yourself and I respect them. Be careful.”
While there were upheavals and lots of bad blood at the time, Ganga, Tara and I eventually became very close friends and it was a friendship that lasted throughout Ganga’s last years and through Tara and her children as well. I am grateful that as I grew and matured, I managed to resolve some of the issues I grappled with, even in a small way, by being there for both Ganga and Tara as part of my hybrid family.
As a Buddhist, the resolution of the hurts we cause is an important aspect of the concept of Karma. It is a blessing to carry no evil into the afterlife. I was young, foolish and in love. But the older and wiser I grew, I realized I too had my own punishment meted out when my marriage to Susil ended and the whole cycle of love, loss and pain in was completed in one lifetime. That is the karmic cycle.
Features
Combining local resources,traditional knowledge and science to build a food-secure Sri Lanka
World Food Day 2026: Innovating today for a better food future
by Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara
What will be on the Sri Lankan dinner table ten years from now? Will our children be able to get nutritious food at a price their families can afford? Will farmers be able to grow enough despite changing weather and rising costs? And how much of the food we produce will actually reach the consumer, instead of being lost or wasted along the way?
These questions can’t wait. A farmer faces unpredictable weather. A family faces rising food costs. Fruit goes unsold after a good harvest. Some children do not get enough nutrition. The future of food is tied to the future of Sri Lanka itself.
World Food Day 2026 is a chance to look beyond the immediate problems and ask whether we can build a food system that feeds our people well, gives farmers better opportunities, protects the environment and makes better use of what we already have. The answer can be yes, but we will have to think differently.
We are not starting from zero. Sri Lanka has diverse crops, fisheries, traditional food knowledge, indigenous varieties, research institutions, universities and a young generation able to create new solutions. What we need is to bring these together and act. Producing more will not secure our food future on its own. It will depend on how intelligently we produce, process, preserve, distribute and consume food.
Making more of what we already have
Innovation does not always mean inventing something new. Often it means finding better uses for the resources we have.
Sri Lanka grows traditional rice varieties, kurakkan, green gram, cowpea, jackfruit, breadfruit, cassava, sweet potato, coconut and palmyrah. All of them have great potential for modern, nutritious, value-added foods. Jackfruit and breadfruit can be made into flour and other convenient products. Traditional rice varieties can go into new foods that suit changing consumer needs. Palmyrah, with its strong cultural heritage, can create new income through better processing, packaging, quality assurance and market development.
The aim is to connect our traditional food knowledge with modern consumer needs and technology, while keeping our food heritage.
Stop wasting the food we produce
Reducing food loss and waste should be a major priority. Seasonal fruits such as mango, banana, papaya and pineapple can be lost in large quantities when production exceeds demand or when storage, transport and processing facilities are inadequate. With suitable technology, these fruits can become dried products, pulps, powders, beverages and other shelf-stable foods.
Agricultural and fisheries by-products are resources too. They could be turned into food ingredients, animal feed, bio-based products and other useful materials, which would move us toward a more circular food economy.
Technology alone is not enough. We need stronger local processing facilities, cold storage, efficient transport, collection centres and market information systems, especially close to where food is produced. Cutting food loss raises the value of what our farmers and fishers already produce.
Nutrition and food safety come first
Food security means more than having enough food. People also need food that is safe and nutritious.
Sri Lanka can develop affordable, nutritious foods from local pulses, grains, vegetables, fruits and fish. Children and other vulnerable groups should get particular attention. Schoolchildren in particular deserve a focus: safe, nutritious, locally sourced products for school feeding programs would support child nutrition, local farmers and domestic food industries at the same time.
Food safety must stay at the centre of food innovation. Good hygiene, quality control, laboratory testing, traceability and appropriate food safety systems are what make new products safe as well as attractive and nutritious.
A food system that can cope with climate change
Climate change is already affecting agricultural production, water availability, crop yields and food prices. We need food systems that can handle changing conditions. That means climate-resilient crops, efficient water use, soil and water conservation, better storage and resource-efficient food processing.
Traditional knowledge matters here. Generations of Sri Lankan farmers have developed practices suited to local climates and ecosystems. Combining that experience with modern science can give us solutions that fit local conditions and are sustainable. Technology alone will not build the future of food. Science, experience and local knowledge together can.
Give young people a bigger role
Sri Lanka’s universities have an important part to play in shaping our food future. Young people should be encouraged to identify real problems in the food system and work on practical solutions in areas such as food waste, sustainable packaging, nutrition, food safety, modernising traditional foods and digital technologies.
A good research project should not always end as a research paper. Where appropriate, research should be supported to move on to products, technologies, enterprises and community solutions. That needs stronger partnerships between universities and industry, along with mentoring, research funding, business support and market connections. If young researchers and entrepreneurs can turn their ideas into viable food innovations, both consumers and producers will benefit.
A pathway designed for Sri Lanka
We do not need to copy food-system models from other countries. We can build a pathway that suits our own resources, culture and needs. It would bring together local resources, traditional knowledge, scientific research, appropriate technology and entrepreneurship, with farmers, fishers, universities, research institutions, food industries, entrepreneurs and policymakers working side by side.
The goal goes beyond selling raw materials. We need to create more value, reduce waste, improve nutrition, generate jobs and strengthen rural livelihoods. This matters especially for small and medium-scale food enterprises, which can drive local economic development when they get the right technical, financial and market support.
The choices we make today
The food future will not create itself. It will be shaped by what we grow, what we research, what we process, what we consume and what we choose not to waste.
So, the question for World Food Day 2026 is this: what can we do today so that every Sri Lankan has safe, nutritious, affordable and sustainable food tomorrow?
The answers are already around us, in our farms, fisheries, food businesses, universities, laboratories and communities. We have the resources, the traditional knowledge, the scientific expertise and talented young people. What we need now is to connect them and act.
A better food future begins with the choices we make today.
Dr. Kaushalya Wijayasekara
Senior Lecturer, Department of Biosystems Technology, Faculty of Technology, University of Ruhuna
Features
20th Anniversary of Digampathana blast – the day Sri Lanka Navy cried
By Admiral Ravindra C Wijegunaratne
WV, RWP and Bar, RSP, VSV, USP, NI (M) (Pakistan), ndc, psn, Bsc
(Hons) (War Studies) (Karachi) MPhil (Madras)
Former Navy Commander and Former Chief of Defence Staff
Former Chairman, Trincomalee Petroleum Terminals Ltd
Former Managing Director Ceylon Petroleum Corporation
Former High Commissioner to Pakistan
The Digampathana suicide truck attack on 16th October 2006 remains the deadliest single strike in Sri Lanka Navy history, leaving scars that time cannot erase.
It was a seemingly ordinary Monday morning on 16 October 2006, but the calm of that day would soon be shattered in a way none of us could have imagined. As the Commandant of the Naval and Maritime Academy and Flag Officer Commanding Naval Fleet at Trincomalee, I was aware that a number of my cadets were travelling that morning, part of a convoy of fifteen buses carrying naval personnel from Trincomalee, Colombo, and other bases, heading toward Dambulla to rendezvous with another group. The convoy also included trucks and escort vehicles, a routine movement planned and coordinated with the army to ensure the roads were clear. The morning started quietly. Some personnel greeted friends, handed over their weapons, or strolled to a nearby tea shop. It all seemed so ordinary—too ordinary for what would come next.

Sri Lanka Navy sunk LTTE Ships carrying arms, ammunition and warlike materials thousand miles away from Sri Lanka in Indian Ocean in September and October 2007.
By late morning, both convoys had reached the small ground at Digampathana, near the Sigiriya junction, and personnel mingled briefly, unaware that a carefully orchestrated act of terror was waiting. Then, suddenly, an empty half-truck veered directly into the convoy. It exploded with a ferocity I can still recall as if it were yesterday. Nuts, bolts, and high explosives tore through the air. Pandemonium erupted instantly. I later learned that 107 of our naval personnel were killed on the spot and another 153 critically injured. The scene was indescribable—bodies scattered, vehicles mangled, personal effects strewn across the ground. I remember later hearing that the head of the suicide bomber was recovered more than 100 meters away from the blast, a grim testament to the sheer force of the explosion.
I was in my office at the Naval and Maritime Academy when my mobile phone rang. A young midshipman from the 21st intake called, his voice trembling: “Sir, there was a huge explosion at the convoy point! Many are dead … my batch mate Wijesundara is among them.” I immediately jumped into my jeep with my escort Chief Petty Officer and driver and rushed to Digampathana, relying on every ounce of my driving skill to reach the scene. The journey, which usually took little more than an hour, felt endless that day, each passing mile weighed down by dread.
When I arrived, I was confronted with a sight that no training can prepare you for. The injured were being rushed to Dambulla Hospital, where doctors and nurses worked tirelessly, improvising in ways that saved lives despite the overwhelming chaos. I went back to the site after visiting the hospital. The remains of our naval personnel were scattered across the ground, and someone had begun collecting weapons and protective gear. I immediately contacted Surgeon Rear Admiral Nico Jayasekara and received his instructions: collect all body parts in separate bags and transport them to the Trincomalee Naval Hospital mortuary. This gruesome work had to be done with care and dignity, and it filled the icebox in my vehicle. Through DNA testing initiated by Rear Admiral Nico, we were able to identify every naval personnel lost that day, bringing some closure to grieving families.
The Navy Commander at the time, Vice Admiral Wasantha Karannagoda, was devastated. I had worked closely with him and knew how deeply he cared for his men. He ensured that the fallen were honoured with full ceremonial naval funerals at Welisara Naval Base, attended by families and comrades. Sixty-seven funerals were conducted in a single day—a number that still haunts me.
The Digampathana attack remains the largest single loss of naval life in our history. It was a day of sorrow, but also a day that reinforced our resolve. The tragedy galvanized the Navy to target the LTTE Sea Tiger wing with renewed determination and reshaped our maritime operations forever. Every time I think of that day, I remember not just the lives lost, but the courage, professionalism, and dedication of those who survived, those who treated the injured, and those who ensured the fallen were honored properly. May the souls of our naval hero’s rest in peace, their sacrifice guiding us and inspiring generations of naval personnel to come.
Features
‘Murder at Whitby Abbey’
Tales of Mystery and Suspense – 24
I was intrigued by the title of a book I found in a book drop at the condominium of a friend, Murder at Whitby Abbey, and I brought it home with me though I will not be able to return it in the near future. It was described on the cover page as ‘a standout in the crowded medieval mystery field’, though I fear I do not know of other books in this field, apart from the Cadfael series, which I have dealt with earlier.
The book, by Cassandra Clark, is set during the reign of Richard II and has as a backdrop his precarious position, which led to his being replaced, and murdered, by his cousin Henry, who reigned as Henry IV. It is a gloomy book, the action taking place in the twelve days of Christmas leading up to the Epiphany. And the gloom is pervasive, even though this is supposed to be a time of festivity, with mummers performing, and many of those in the guest house where the heroine stays going to town to enjoy themselves, with much drinking and much music, which also fills the guesthouse.
The heroine Hildegarde is a nun, sent to try to acquire a relic being sold by Whitby Abbey, though this was also a penance set by the Abbot of the monastery that governed her abbess because she had had sex with a man. Soon after she and her companions reach the Abbey set high on a cliff, she finds that there are other bidders, and soon suspects that the hierarchy, not perhaps the Abbot who seems a weakling, but his rapacious bursar, is determined to make money, and not above creating false relics to sell to several aspirants.
After Hildegarde and her Cistercian companions – Whitby is a Benedictine Foundation – two monks, Gregory and Egbert, and a young priest Mark, reach the abbey, they find that Aelwyn, a monk they had met on their way to the guesthouse had died. This was in the apple store, and they realize, when they find the surplices of novices stuffed into the air vents, that he had been left to suffocate in the overwhelming scent of apples.
The Cistercians are asked to look into the death, perhaps because they are likely to get no cooperation from the Abbey folk, but perhaps because those in charge are keen to know what happened. And the infirmarer, an old monk, suggests Hildegarde talk to a man called Edred who worked for the bursar, and had been a friend of Aelwyn’s. But Edred too is killed, before he can keep an appointment he had made with Hildegarde, drowned in a pool near the farmhouse of the Abbey.
Meanwhile tensions arise between the fisherfolk and the abbey for the bursar wants to charge them for using the beach that technically belongs to the abbey to dry their fish and their nets. This leads to physical battles, when the guards used by the abbey, under the command it seems of the bursar whose determination to make money is not resisted by the abbot and the prior, try to storm the area where the fishermen live.
Hildegard finds out more about what had happened through two youngsters, one of whom Torold is the son of Aelwyn by a woman who worked as a prostitute for a cartel, and with whom Mark fell in love. The other works on the farm and had seen Edred meet someone near the pool, after which that someone left the place by himself. And the boy had also found in the pool a sort of dagger with the seal of the abbey.
He and his dog, and Torold who follows her, rescue Hildegarde from a man at arms who has waylaid her and tries to rape her earlier. Escaping into the abbey she was nearly been raped then by the bursar, but she managed to escape, in the process setting fire to him and the muniments room, which led, when he was rescued, to the discovery of a box with the money he said had been stolen, blame being cast on both Aelwyn and Edred.
Matters come to a head when the fisherfolk try to storm the abbey, being resisted by the men at arms stationed on the towers. But then Hildegarde realizes that behind the murders was the bursar’s clerk, whom she pursued to the cathedral. There is great drama then as she escapes from him when he tries to kill her, and then from the man at arms who had tried to both rape and kill her, but they both fall from the scaffolding she had climbed, the latter coming from a tower where he had been stationed.
Both of them think they run the rapacity of the abbey, the latter claiming to work for the nobles opposed to Richard, who is presented throughout the book as devoted to his subjects, not to power or money. But though the villains die, the bursar continues, having got over the hysteria the fire had caused and his acknowledgment then of guilt – and though the abbot and the prior seem less vicious, whether they will be able to assert themselves is questionable.
Before the climax, when the others in the guesthouse were leaving, Hildegarde found that two of them were in possession of the relic, for which they seem to have paid well. Hildegarde herself had made a derisory offer, but before she leaves the abbot gives her the relic, perhaps in gratitude for what she and her fellow Cistercians had discovered, the abbey having made as much money as it needed and more from the gullible other buyers.
Mark’s inamorata is saved from the stews because she moves in with Edred’s widow whom the bursar had thrown out of the rooms he occupied when her husband was found dead. Hildegarde had paid for lodgings, in a house run by the man who ran the brothels, but he had a kindly side and was going to finance them to make nets for the fishermen.
So, the Cistercians set off for their home as swiftly as they can to get there on the day of the Epiphany, having stopped en route to pray for King Richard whose birthday it was.
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