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Clearly, between the fragrant Ivanka and the walks-on-water Jared, Trump’s White House was always going to run more like a medieval court or an old-fashioned Asian kleptocracy than anything so rule-bound as a twenty-first century democracy: it’s frankly surprising Barron hasn’t yet been tasked with “the cyber”. Obviously, Trump lies as easily as breathing, so it’s hard to tell whether he’s actually met Putin: some poor researcher at CNN pulled together 80 instances of Trump variously claiming to have met and not to have met the great dictator. (Of the famous meeting where Trump not only gave away an Israeli intelligence asset to the Russians, allowed a Russian state photographer access to the Oval Office, but described James Comey as “a nutjob”, one source said, ‘He thinks he’s playing chess when he’s actually playing checkers.’) I especially enjoyed darling Ivanka’s fake feminist visit to a business run by a female entrepreneur, one, no doubt, pulled up by her bootstraps just like madam herself, and her pronouncement that the Kingdom was making good progress on women’s rights (Human Rights Watch differs).

A tense 40 minutes passed, during which Pak Kiko watched the snake move from different locations in the mango tree into another mango tree, up a palm tree and back again. A tense 40 minutes passed, during which Pak Kiko watched the snake move from different locations in the mango tree into another mango tree, up a palm tree and back again and I, but This is because Zac had left his keys behind one day, so I’d left my computer in Zac’s room, locked the two rooms containing anything of value – the storeroom and Zac’s room – and left the windows open so Zac could break in. Out in the garden, the girls had finally identified the snake, so in came Pak Kiko, with the relieved air of a man who knows people have stopped thinking he’s mad.

Holy cow, I thought, either that cat that nests up in the roof has really put on weight or someone’s driving a bloody mining vehicle past the house. Holy cow, I thought to myself, being a little slow on the uptake of a morning, either that cat that nests up in the roof has really put on weight or someone’s driving a bloody mining vehicle past the house. The Suharto-era furniture we’ve inherited from our landlords includes an ugly teak table with one central leg below a circular base – better than nothing, but hardly going to help if one of the palm trees or mangoes in the garden comes crashing down (the papaya fell into the pool after a previous earthquake, so I’m aware of the risks). It’s almost a relief when normal service resumes later, as I go to turn off a dripping tap, the whole thing comes away in my hand, and I have to switch the electricity off at the mains as I cannot find the stopcock.

The flagship of Christina Ong’s COMO brand, COMO Shambhala is generally considered THE best hotel in Ubud and one of the best spa retreats in the world. Visit website Check for discount rates on Agoda Right in the heart of the action, yet pleasingly set back from it, this complex of bungalows sits amid gardens and ricefields just at the top of Monkey Forest Road, which is about as central as it gets in Ubud. The Sanggingan location puts these great-value bungalows a little way north of the action, except for during Ubud Food Festival and Ubud Writers Festival when it’s right at the heart of it all. The air-con rooms, in a classic Balinese garden setting with flowers, statues and birdsong, feature details like four-posters and hand-carved doors for an authentically Balinese feel that’s a bit more interesting than yer average homestay.