Road rage

Thanks to Joe's positive influence, I was on the early train this morning. From Waterloo I went to Piccadilly Circus and then to Hyde Park Corner marvelling in being able to sit down and drink my coffee without risking serious facial burns and asphyxiation a la the Northern Line. I had to go to the Lanesborough hotel to collect the belongings I had left last week after a work event (a work event where I almost met slash spied through a peephole on Lady Gaga.)

I love the Lanesborough. It's where civilised people spend their time being civilised. Two bowler-hatted gentleman retrieved my things - one metal table plan and two pop-up banners in case you were wondering - and hailed me a taxi, carrying my luggage with them. I sat in the taxi thinking about ways to spend less time in the office and more time in the  Lanesborough (being Lady Gaga's PA?), when I realised that the taxi driver was a mentalist.

It started off with a few minor incidences such as him muttering "come on, you like that yellow van? It's morning time. MOOOVVVVEEEE," and then increased in intensity as he decided to drive up a closed road gleefully shouting "you can't fool me!" while I tried to appear busy and avoid eye contact. He then clipped a cyclist's handlebar through some fairly erratic driving and rather than apologising shouted "what are you in the middle of the road for you f-ing c***!" The next cyclist we encountered made the mistake of looking at the taxi driver and got "what the f are you looking at you pr**k?" I was just thinking to myself that he was going to kill someone pretty soon when he confessed to me, sounding rather pleased with himself, that he was going to "knock one of them cyclists over deliberately one day and go to prison." Hmm.

By the time he dropped me off I was terrified and ready to tip him handsomely in case he kicked me in the face and threw me into the gutter but he knocked 60p off the fare, probably because he thought I would otherwise report him to whatever authorities deal with such behaviour. And he would be locked in padded cell. But I'm just thinking about what to spend my shiny 60p on. Perhaps a quarter of a cup of coffee in the Lanesborough? But I think I'll stick to the tube next time.

Lady Marmalade

I have recently noticed that there is a recession going on. As a wise friend of mine pointed out on Tuesday it's quite a lot like Britain in the Blitz - the sandwiches in Pret are getting more expensive by the day, people are setting fire to their degrees in the street - all things that happened in war-torn Britain. Possibly. I expect we'll all be rolling round the City with wheelbarrows full of worthless banknotes soon.

Apparently one in ten people in London are unemployed. One in ten! I was pondering this statistic whilst I strolled into the office ten minutes late this morning. It is a little on the worrying side.

In the spirit of frugal fun, I was given marmalade chicken for dinner on Tuesday. I was rather alarmed when the chef opened the front door crying "guys! I'm covered in marmalade! It's your dinner!" but it was surprisingly delicious. Perhaps we should start eating powdered egg and covering ourselves with gravy too to further channel 1942?

I will give it some thought. Off to Cornwall now. A bientot. Or Kernow equivalent.

Long John Silver

This weekend I took to the seven seas. Coming from Cornwall you may assume that I have spent lots of time on boats. You would be mistaken.

We spent Saturday morning putting the entire contents of the house into the car and driving to Portchester to find the boat. I mean, they knew where it was, but I didn't. It seems that sailing and travelling light are not compatible and I was most grateful for all the extra clothes and tea when we were out in the elements.

I soon realised there was more to this sailing malarky than I initially realised. You have to wear comedy clothes and adopt a casual air despite being in constant danger. I found a little smoking seat which was practically on the outside of the boat, and got ready to drown. We considered doing a "man overboard" exercise with a bucket but decided we'd rather have a sausage sandwich. It's important to have clear priorities at such times.

We spent the evening in a pub where everyone gets pissed and dances on the tables. It's actually not enormously sensible to get drunk when you have to get back on a boat a few hours later but when in Rome etc. Joe and I almost came to blows with a man dressed as a crocodile who ordered 35 drinks at the bar. Reptiles are selfish. And thirsty.

We had a jolly good time despite the near-ruckus and the sea-sickness/hangover/general horror of waking up in a small triangular moving bed. I think next time I might even pull a few ropes.

Vodafone, I'm leaving you

Or at least I am considering it.

Somehow I managed to lose my phone in stupid Liverpool. Vodafone has not deigned to send me a new sim card yet so I am bereft and only have my work phone for company. I'm sure I am missing hundreds of interesting calls and messages... Pretty sure anyway... At least one or two...

Two conferences down and one to go.

Highlight of Liverpool was seeing Hugh Grant. Twice. Beat that Manchester. No idea what was happening politically because I was distracted (inebriated) by my serious work (by drinking in the bar.) But I am turning over a new leaf for Tories. I am going to be sober and professional and share my weighty political opinions with important people. And not lose any of my items. Or bash into anything.

And then the next travel adventure on the horizon is sailing to the Isle of Wight with Joe, Adam and Lynne. Apparently on the Saturday evening we are going to drive (?) (float?) to a restaurant/bar where everyone dances on the tables. I can literally not wait. I am already planning a suitable outfit of part foulweather gear, part party dress. Look out Isle of Wighters.

Northern Lights

Political party conference season is upon us so I am setting sail for Birmingham this afternoon to see the Lib Dems. Next week I am in Liverpool for Labour and the following week I shall be heading to Manchester for the Tories.

I have never been to any of these places before so I have high hopes of northern metropolises with people talking strangely and eating foreign foods. Actually, that's a lie, I went to Birmingham once. But only to Cadbury World. I'm not sure if that counts. (Note to self: do not tell this anecdote over dinner. It is dull.)

After four months off I would say my understanding of current affairs is patchy at best. I am going to need to disguise this by either 1) steering the conversation round to things I do understand, like weird things that happen in India or how nice the Guardian Weekend fashion special was, or 2) making vague and meaningless comments such as "well it may be a difficult season for the Lib Dems. But in the current climate perhaps you could say that about any of the parties." Or maybe I could just nod sagely while other people talk. I remember a philosophy seminar where the tutor said "well, I can see what Kate's opinion is. What do the rest of you think?", because of my sage nod. Needless to say I had no idea what was going on.

Wish me luck - hopefully I won't embarrass myself too badly. Or audibly grind my teeth in the shared apartment.

Rule Britannia

After two miserable penniless days in New York, Joe and I said goodbye to the big adventure and flew home. We were delighted to be travelling with BA.

"May I have a white wine please, Mr Air Steward?"
"Certainly, why not have two?"

Hello again delicious binge-drinking culture.

I am terribly sorry for not writing sooner - I know there are hundreds of you pining for my pithy wit... but the excitement of English things has been so overwhelming that I have mostly been sleeping for two weeks. Well, sleeping and eating cheese. Oh, and securing gainful employment. Score.

I am currently having a jolly break in Cornwall. I really needed a holiday after those three months off. Top moments so far have included dinner with the next door neighbours aka the most Cornish people in existence. I discovered that they refer to me as Cinderella because apparently the first time they saw me I was rather overdressed for village life. Now I don't remember each sartorial choice I have ever made but find it hard to believe that I helped Mum move house whilst sporting a ball gown. Clearly there are different standards at play here.

I am very much enjoying pretending to be a student on summer holidays and travelling around in a purple Clio containing five girls (friends, not random chumps found on the beach), five enormous handbags (belonging to said friends), two binbags loaded with rubbish (damn foxes) and a set of golf clubs (don't ask). I am also enjoying "helping" round the house i.e. putting things in the wrong places and accidentally throwing out the compost. Whoops. The joys of temporarily living at home.

I am not sure what to do with the blog now I am back. I have very much enjoyed writing it but am not narcissistic enough to think people want to read about my everyday adventures (today I woke up, got the train and went to work. I had soup for lunch. A man sneezed on me on the way home), so perhaps I shall have to pretend to still be travelling?

Back to the big smoke soon anyway so ideas on a postcard please....

Previously on the West Wing

We have been in Washington DC for three days now and have seen the White House, the Capitol, and the outsides of lots of other attractions (too hot to queue to get in). I keep hoping we might see some of the West Wingers and then have to remind myself that it is in fact a TV programme and the people are actors. Very upsetting.

Through watching the complete West Wing about six times I thought I had a good understanding of American politics. This turned out to be completely false. Joe and I were sitting on the steps of the Capitol and I confessed that I did not, in fact, really understand the US political system at all. He tried patiently to explain it to me while I fiddled with my nail varnish and forgot to listen. He then had to explain again. I'm still not sure I've cracked it to be honest but it's probably not that important. Separation of powers off.

We are staying in a very bizarre establishment which seems to be a hotel cum halfway house. There are various people here who are clearly not on holiday and come to breakfast with their own bread. We have to share a bathroom which is a real treat. The best part is that we are conveniently located for everything, including the George Washington University student hangouts. We have been "carded" several times and enjoyed several happy hours. GWU looks quite a lot like Bristol but with frat houses. Each frat house has it's name in symbols on the door - you know, the kappa gamma motor neurones or whatever - and its inhabitants sit outside drinking out of those red cups you see on American films. Jealous.

Tomorrow we climb aboard the Megabus (keeping up the tradition of travelling in style), and head to the Big Apple. We met someone yesterday from New York and asked her for recommedations of things to do. Her response? The NBA store and the M&M store. Seriously. Next time someone asks me what they should do in London I am going to send them to Niketown.

The end.

Chicago: The Windy City

Of course Truro is the actual windy city but we'll let the people of Chicago have their little claim to fame.

We arrived here on Saturday, courtesy of the Megabus, after being dragged away from the comfort of Heather and Jamie's place in St Louis. Unfortunately we managed to lose the camera somewhere between the bus and the hotel. More unfortunate still is that is contained the photos from Thailand and the States which we hadn't uploaded yet. Someone, somewhere is looking at a very odd bunch of pictures.

Continuing the theme of unfortunate incidences, someone has used Joe's card to go to DisneyWorld. No, it wasn't me. Barclays have very considerately blocked his account, even to him, so that's great. I hope Mickey Mouse punched the fraudster in the face.

We spent Saturday and Sunday night in the Chinatown hotel, situated in... yep you guessed it, Chinatown. It was very convenient for downtown so we had a great day shopping, looking at the sights and eating traditional deep pan pizza. The hotel was populated by some kind of biting creature - bedbugs? Fleas? So that was nice. It reminded us of India. We had some of the worst Chinese food known to man but did manage to find a karaoke bar afterwards. We didn't sing - Joe is too traumatised from the time I signed him up to do American Pie in Earlsfield  -  but thoroughly enjoyed ourselves watching the attempts of others.

We are now on the outskirts of the city in a Howard Johnson (cheap Travelodge type place) because we have an early flight to Washington DC in the morning. I found out, to my horror, that we can't actually go inside the White House, but we're going to stand outside and sing the West Wing theme tune. Hopefully that's not a federal crime. DC is apparently famous for being very humid so we'll probably be sweating all over the national landmarks as well as singing. Excellent.

Meet me in St Louis

This week we left Elvis behind and headed to St Louis, Missouri. Nothing is too good for our world trip so we travelled by Greyhound bus. It was OK until we pulled into the bus station and the driver announced he wanted to thank god for getting us to our destination safely. Our fellow passengers broke into enthusiastic "a-mens" while we sniggered at the front.
We are staying with the lovely Heather (previously of Portland fame), and her lovely husband Jamie in their lovely apartment. They have been extremely hospitable letting us take over their spare room, destroy their kitchen with operation curry, and watch endless episodes of Gordon Ramsay on their TV.

Yesterday the four of us went on a day trip. Just a cooler of beer, three Londoners, Heather, and these wits. We went to the Meramec caves and did a guided tour with Blake, who looked like he spent too much time underground. The caves were amazing - Jessie James used to hide out there - but the best  part was the finale. This was a spectacular light show (Blake flicking switches on and off) to show off the rocks with a soundtrack of the Missouri Waltz and God Bless America. The man in front of us, hearing our howls of laughter, turned round and said "it cost us $50 to get in, how much to get out?!" Good question.

We then travelled a bit further up the river and took a canoe trip. Now, I don't mean to boast, but I have canoed once before. Yes, I know, I am full of fascinating anecdotes. Anyway, I thought this would make me a bit of an expert but it took a full fifteen minutes to conquer the paddle on the right to go left thing. My primary concern was keeping the cigarettes dry because I didn't want to have to do a distress flare with a disposable lighter but most of them made it through the journey.

The water and the scenery were beautiful and we stopped several times to swim. For swim read bob around with a beer. It seems like a real American pastime - people bring chairs into the river and drink. Amazing.

Last night Heather and Jamie took us out to try some of the local delicacy... toasted ravioli. Basically, you cover normal ravioli in breadcrumbs, deep-fry it, then eat it with parmesan and pasta sauce. Delicious. We also ate St Louis-style pizza. And yes, all the weight lost in Asia is hopping back on, one ravioli at a time. Brilliant.

What adventures will tomorrow bring? Who knows, but on Saturday we hop on the Megabus (truly classy in every country) and head to Chicago.

Walking in Memphis

This is a kind of collaboration blog. Joe wanted to write it but I wouldn't let him. Compromise - the heart of every good relationship.

So here we are in our Tennessee log cabin.  We can be found on Heartbreak Lane just past Blue Suede Ave.  If you hit Hound Dog Way you've gone too far.  Thats right.  We are staying in the Graceland RV park with Elvis pilgrims and white trash. Am hoping no one is reading this over my shoulder...

We said goodbye to our haven in Dallas and set off in our car for the open road of America.  Our journey took us away from the tourist hot spots and into 'real America'.  Great incident in a petrol station... sorry, gas station... near the Arkansas border.

Kate: Excuse me, how do we.....

Attendent: Where y'all from?

Joe: England

Attendent: MARYJOLENEALICELOUANN! COME HEAR THESE GUYS A' TALKIN'.  IT'S PURDY!

At this point I think MJALA was expecting a bit more and we were both feeling the pressure.  All we could manage was 'hello'.  She did not look impressesd.

As we left the same petrol station in the middle of nowhere it was invaded by about a billion hells angels.  I thought I might run away and join them but the noise was so loud that I had to jump back in the car and hide with my pickle in a pouch (photos to follow.)

We went to Graceland (the actual attraction rather than the trailer park) this morning. I know this is something of a pilgramage for many people (I'm talking to you, Sarah), so I won't be too rude about it. Needless to say it is a real money spinner. The site boasts eight gift shops, and you have to pay a heck of a lot to get in.

After seeing MTV Cribs, Elvis's house didn't really seem that decadent but the 70s decor was pretty special. Honourable mentions go to the "jungle room" and his private plane which had a blue suede bed, complete with 24 carat gold seatbelt. Awesome.

I was disappointed that they glossed over some of Elvis's more unfortunate attributes - no mention of the drug addiction, the toilet, or the fact that his later stage outfits are about four hundred times bigger than the first ones. But hey, I guess you don't want Elvis fans crying all over the place so they've got to keep it upbeat.

We went for lunch in the Rock n Roll cafe afterwards. Joe ate so quickly that he was complimented by the waitress. When a big fat American diner waitress thinks you are a speedy eater, that is seriously disgusting. I mean, impressive...

Dinner tonight will take place in a bbq restaurant which is about 1 mile from the park. You get picked up in a pink cadillac. Not joking.

Best go and dust off my silver spandex all-in-one suit now. Joe's is unfortunately at the drycleaners so he'll have to make do with shorts.

Speak soon y'all.

Don't mess with Texas

Really don't - people carry guns and they have the death penalty here. Also, at least half the population of Dallas is obese so they could squash a normal-sized human being quite easily. But more on that later.

We arrived in the States on Friday evening having left  Thailand on... Friday evening. We crossed the international date line and I literally could not cope. What time was it? What day was it? What time was it in England? What time would it be if we were still in Thailand? Joe thought it was hilarious but I got my revenge when we realised he doesn't know how to cross the road in America.

We spent four nights in LA. We were staying in Hollywood in a hostel/hotel type affair. We had planned to stay in a dorm room to save money but after one night I had to move into a private room. Well, private with Joe - I couldn't really leave him in the dorm. I'm afraid I have learned that I cannot sleep if there are strangers in the room. What if they stabbed me? Or stole my massive white trousers?

Once we had a room of our own, Hollywood was great. We saw the new Harry Potter film at Grauman's Chinese Theater where the popcorn is refillable and you add your own butter and salt. Salt? Yes please. Melted butter? No, I've really got to draw the line somewhere. We saw the Walk of Fame and the big Hollywood sign and had a drink with a Mr T lookalike dwarf.

Unfortunately our visit coincided with "carmaggedon" - the main freeway was closed and everyone was going bonkers about it. It limited our ability to travel round the city but we were happy just to be back in the bosom of civilisation where you can drink wine and eat beef.

We flew to Dallas yesterday from LAX. I had my hands swabbed going through security which seemed quite bizarre and unnecessary but they take security rather seriously. When we arrived in LA from Bangkok we were interviewed by US border people. My conversation went as follows:

Security man: You smell like tea. Are you carrying tea?

Me: Erm, no

SM: Oh. You have an unusual smell.

Me: Erm, OK.

I should have said yep, you would smell unusual too if your Sri Lankan herbal mosquito repellant had leaked in your handbag, you'd spilt a can of beer down your leg and you'd been on a plane for sixteen hours. But I didn't think that was a particularly good idea.

We went to the 6th Floor Museum today in the Book Depository where JFK was shot. Joe is trying to go to the assassination sites of all major 20th century figures. We saw the Gandhi site in Delhi and apparently we have to go to see where Martin Luther King was killed in Memphis and then to the spot where John Lennon was shot in New York. Personally I don't think this is a particularly jolly way to spend our time but the JFK thing was very good.

We have one more full day in Dallas (I am campaigning to spend it in the aquarium) and then we are driving (eek), well, Joe is driving (eeeeek) to Memphis on Friday. When/if we get there (we'll be fine, don't panic), we are staying in the Graceland RV Park. Yep. You heard me. We're hoping there'll be an Elvis convention on. Keep your fingers crossed!

Ken and Kennetha Hom

We have been in a little town called Kanchaniburi since Monday after taking the world's most uncomfortable train from Bangkok. Yesterday we attended a cookery class which Joe actually took last time he was in Thailand. Unfortunately on the last trip Joe lost his Winnie the Pooh notebook containing all the recipes. This time we were more prepared.

We started the day by visiting the market where the main entertainment was watching the vegetarian in the group go green at the sight of pigs heads, buckets of live eels, and walkways streaming with blood. We found out that one stall had recently been forced to close because they had illegally captured and killed a tiger and were selling the meat. Nice. Once we were back at the ranch we cooked four traditional Thai dishes under the watchful eye of a woman called Apple 2 (Apple 1 is in Bangkok selling curry paste - it's a touchy subject so I'd recommend that you don't mention it.) The only disappointment of the day was discovering that the secret to sweet and sour sauce is ketchup. Really not the kind of thing you travel halfway round the world for.

Last night we went to one of the local bars which has a free pool table. Joe and I really shouldn't play pool together but as we have no friends we had to go head to head. What generally happens is this - I hit the ball with gusto but no technique and feel incredibly excited if I manage to pot something. This leads Joe to the conclusion that what I need is some coaching so he starts trying to give me advice. He takes on the demeanour of a wannabe pushy parent who is disappointed to discover that his child is not the tennis pro he hoped for. This makes me cross because I think life is serious enough without getting all solemn about pool so I start hitting even stupider shots. Anyway, we made it out without murdering each other and settled down for another sleep in Apple's guesthouse (seriously, don't ask.)

Today we walked to the bridge which crosses the river Kwai. I stood nervously on the bridge while Joe took a photo and then ran to safety (they still have trains going over it! It's dangerous!) We also visited the museum next to the bridge, which was the worst museum I have ever been to. We thought we'd seen some shit exhibitions in India and Sri Lanka but this really took the biscuit. Each artefact was surrounded by crappy souvenirs - literally signs saying "100,000 POWs were killed in the construction of this railway" next to a rail of T shirts for sale with slogans like "I love Thailand." It did not in any way give a sense of the enormity of what had happened there. We swiftly left.

On the way home we saw a leopard chained to a table.

Which brings me nicely on to our latest animal escapade.

Now I know you all love our wildlife stories, especially you Julia, so please sit back and enjoy the story of the bird.

Yesterday afternoon we were sitting in bed reading. I was reading Pillars of the Earth and Joe was reading The Gringo Trail (this is what we writers call setting the scene). I heard a noise from the eaves (if eaves is the right word? A piece of ceiling is cut out and then the real ceiling is higher with a ridge going round it?), and looked up to investigate. All of a sudden a bird burst out from god knows where and started bashing its head against the walls and squawking. I don't know why, because I have manfully dealt with spiders, cockroaches, mosquitoes, lizards, and, of course, the mouse, but I was really freaked out by this bird.

I did what any sane person would do in the same situation and cowered under the blankets while shouting at Joe to deal with it. Joe opened the door but the bird didn't want to go outside. After a few moments it retreated to its place in the eaves. Now we didn't know what to do. We didn't know how the bird had got in or whether it had a way out. We decided that the first priority was to establish whether the bird was still in the room. This was the moment at which Joe had an idea.

He leapt off the bed, took the belt off his shorts, and started flapping it around wildly. He looked like he was trying to whip the bird but assured me that actually he was trying to disturb it so it would fly towards the door. Shockingly, this plan didn't work. We tried standing on the bed to look into the ledge running around the ceiling but neither of us were tall enough. Joe decided that I would have to sit on his shoulders and look into the ceiling. I really didn't want to do this because I imagined it would end in tears, or more likely in a Thai hospital, but he insisted. When I say he insisted, what he actually did was push me over then pick me up before I had a chance to right myself. Anyway, we still weren't tall enough. We got Joe's rucksack to stand on, on top of the bed, but as it contains mainly clothes it didn't provide much extra height. We were getting desperate so piled all of our possessions on to the bed and stood on that. I say we but actually I let Joe take this one for the team. He still couldn't see.

I know this is a disappointing conclusion but we still don't know if the bird is in the ceiling or not. I am most grieved about this and fear it will shit on my face in the night as revenge for the whipping. All I can hope for is that having a bird relieve itself on you really is good luck.

Back to Bangkok tomorrow for more fun and games. If we encounter any animals I will be sure to let you know.

Joe's guest blog - Back by popular demand

Before I start on Thailand, I just wanted to announce to the world that Sri Lanka has by far the nicest airport security staff in the entire world.  They smile, ask you to have a nice day, and start amicable conversations about their current cricket tour of England.  When I confidently announced I expected England to win the Series he ushered me through with a big grin.

Thailand is an all together different experience.  The way they stare at you makes you begin to feel you have a kilo of heroin up your bum.  This made me quite paranoid.  I began to deduce who would have been able to find  time to plant class A drugs on me while I was asleep and I realised it could only have been Kate.  I suddenly became very irrationally angry with Kate.  I mean if they had found the drugs I would probably have been executed.  I thought it was a little selfish.  

Back in Bangkok.  I feel that something has happened to this city since I was last here 4 years ago.  It seems, well, much nicer.  I began to wonder how this could be when the only thing of note to happen in Bangkok (that made it to the UK media anyway) was mass rioting and Marshall law.  Now I am not an expert but I would presume Bangkok is the only city to have improved in such conditions ( I am sure the amateur psychologists among you will think it is probably me that has changed due to being older wiser and having just spent 6 weeks on the sub-continent.  I think that is nonsense.).

Khao San Road never ceases to amaze me.  The sensation it has thrust on me is one of feeling very old.  We all know that 18 year olds look younger every year but the batch on Khao San Road look like actual infants.  I saw one girl smoking and ran up to her, stole the cigarette from her mouth, and asked to speak to her parents (I didn't.  But I wish I had and it is much better in these blogs to stretch the truth for dramatic effect).  I am sure this is going to cause a rousing chorus of ' you don't know what old is' and 'old? You have no idea' etc.  

Generally it is great.  Kate can wear any clothes and not be stared at like she suddenly turned purple and we can get a beer anytime (nice after 8 weeks of random closing times).  We may go and do something.  We may not.  The great thing about this week is that neither of us were that bothered about it so anything we do is an additional bonus.

Off to go sit by the pool.  Enjoy the office!

Kandy - land of the elephant

We are in Kandy, in the Hill Country of Sri Lanka. It is much cooler here so we are mostly basking in the non-sunshine on our hotel balcony.  We have also visited some of Kandy's hottest night spots - The Pub, Pub Royale and PUB. Clearly the Sri Lankans are a very imaginative people.

One reason we came here was to visit Pinnewala Elephant Orphanage; a well-known tourist attraction about an hour out of town. Alas, when I was trying to find out how much you had to pay to get in I stumbled across lots of negative web reviews saying the animals are cruelly treated. We looked at the Born Free and WWF sites which advise not to go there so we didn't. Hooray for the elephants.

Instead we went to the Millennium Elephant Foundation. It is much smaller - only home to half a dozen or so elephants - but is approved by the animal charities and it seemed quite jolly. We washed an elephant in the river using coconut shells, we went to the quite shit elephant museum (also home to a tortoise shell and an alligator skull - both irrelevant and uninteresting), and then got to ride an elephant. Don't worry, there are lots of cringing photos to come. 

The elephant we rode is called Rani and was massive and very bristly. There were a lot of women tourists in burkhas which I didn't think was very appropriate elephant-riding gear but I was laughing on the other side of my face when all my skin was exfoliated off with elephant prickles.

In other animal news we saw a woman walking two porcupines earlier. On leads. Surely it's not possible to keep a porcupine as a pet?

The latest update on our trip is that we are not going to Bali. After having to reduce our time away we were only left with four days there and the extra flights and costs didn't seem worth it. Instead we will be spending a week in Thailand where we shall learn to cook and try not to be drugged and robbed a la Joe in 2007.

I am off to buy some fruit now as we are in danger of getting scurvy. But I shall write again soon.

Unawatuna

We are in the tiny beach town of Unawatuna on the Southwest coast of  Sri Lanka. The name sounds like something out of the Lion King, I know, but I promise I haven't made it up. We have spent the past two nights in the cheapest room we've had since we've been away. It was 4 pounds per night. It was also boiling hot and full of mosquitoes. I have more mosquito bites than skin now, which is delightful and not at all unattractive. This morning we upgraded to a slightly nicer guesthouse full of luxuries like AC and loo roll. It is 11.40am here and I am already looking forward to bedtime.

We spent yesterday lying on the beach and plan to do the same today. I have made friends with the woman who sells dresses so she is going to bring a selection to my sun lounger this afternoon. Life doesn't get much better than shopping in the sunshine.

Having said that, I did almost drown yesterday. Well, slight exaggeration, but I had a water-based incident. Joe and I could see the beach - the whole town in on the beach basically - but we couldn't figure out where the path to the most sandy part was. In our infinite wisdom we decided we didn't need a path because we could walk through the sea. The water was quite shallow and we were making good progress until we had to pass a load of rocks. The waves were much stronger than I anticipated and I ended up getting knocked over, twice, and soaking the contents of my handbag. Joe marched on ahead, ignoring my cries for help, until he'd got himself safely to dry land. It is reassuring to know that in a crisis he looks out for number one. I almost had to get rescued by an Australian man in a thong. Degro.

My primary activity since arriving in Sri Lanka, other than playing with baby turtles, has been eating shellfish. Over the past five days I have eaten three crabs, half a lobster and a plate of enormous prawns. I am expecting to sprout pincers any minute now. Does anyone know about the nutritional value of crustaceans? Is it wise to eat only grilled crabs?

The joy of private beaches

Hello from Sri Lanka.

We arrived at about 4.30am on Saturday morning after what felt like three years of travelling. Flying in the middle of the night is not the dream. Nor is driving through the Mumbai slums with a dodgy driver and a boot that doesn't lock. But that's another story.

We have spent the past two nights staying in a pretty little guesthouse in Mount Lavinia, which is a kind of resort town just outside of Colombo. The proprietor used to live in Tooting. How random. Anyway, on our first day here we asked a few people for directions to the beach and ended up inside a very posh hotel. After further investigations  we realised that the hotel owns a stretch of the beach and that's where we were headed. It was so beautiful, proper picture-postcard beautiful, and we didn't really want to tell anyone that we weren't staying in the hotel so we just had lunch and kept quiet.

The next day we went to the public beach, trying to be good global citizens. You had to cross the railway track to get there - I thought this was terrifying, Joe thought I was being ridiculous so I acquiesced - and when we did arrive the beach was horrible and covered in litter. So we went back to the hotel beach. This time we paid to be beach guests and so climbed on our sun loungers with a pina colada in one hand and a strong sense of civic pride in the other. The guest tickets we bought allowed us to use the swimming pool as well as the beach and of course we wanted to get our money's worth, so we trooped off to the pool when it got too hot. It wasn't exactly what we had in mind though. The pool was on the roof of the hotel, surrounded by the restaurant, with an easy-listening band blasting out soft jazz classics in the corner. Everyone was fat and European. A child threw a ball at my head while I was swimming, which Joe thought was bloody hilarious, and I thought signalled time to leave the hotel.

We are leaving Mount Lavinia today for Bentota where there is a turtle sanctuary. Apparently you can release the baby turtles into the sea if you go at the right time of day. We are v excited. Joe has even agreed not to eat a turtle omelette (something of a local specialty.)

First impressions of Sri Lanka - beautiful, hot, and much cleaner and quieter than India.

I feel like I have given India a bit of a bad press since I've been writing this blog but I defy anyone to spend six weeks there and not get pissed off. It is an incredible country but has some serious problems - the infrastructure is crumbling, the poverty is endemic, and the population is growing faster than the place can cope with. It is loud, in-your-face, and it often smells of sewage. That being said, it was probably one of the richest experiences I have ever had and I will always be glad we went.

So there.

I'm off to pack my enormous rucksack now but I will write again soon - hopefully with tales of saving wildlife

x

Cinema Paradiso

I am trying to write this while an old man in a turban beams at me in a creepy fashion. It is quite distracting. I hope he can't read through the back of the computer but I wish he would go away. Oh, he's staring at Joe now. Phew.

Yesterday we visited the Fun Cinema complex to watch Kung Fu Panda 2. There wasn't a large selection of films (so don't judge us); the panda, something about a lantern, or all sorts of things in Hindi. After some truly dreadful "American diner-style" food, we settled into our enormous reclining seats and waited for the action to unfold. But first we all had to stand up while the national anthem played. Can you imagine doing that in England? Everyone dutifully got to their feet and watched a short video of the Indian army cavorting in the snow while panpipes played the anthem. It was quite a spectacle. Once the film started we were looking forward to a few hours of undisturbed viewing pleasure but hadn't factored in the Indian love of mobile phones. People were actually taking calls and talking during the film. It was hilarious. Or at least, it was a bit hilarious but also quite annoying.

The breaking news is that we are now flying home one week earlier than planned, on the 12th August. So please ensure you have unpacked the bunting, slaughtered the fatted calves and bought the welcome home presents by then.We have had a massive gas bill and need to release some equity from our trip, like on those adverts. In our new flat, if we ever get a new flat, we are going to only wash in cold water, eat raw food, and wear duvet ponchos in the winter. And maybe invest in double glazing.

Joe and I are off for a beer now so we can discuss the new Chelsea manager (I think he is missing male company), but I will write when we arrive in Sri Lanka. Or probably not when we arrive because it'll be 4am, but shortly after getting to Colombo anyway. 

India's biggest celebs

We arrived in Chandigarh on Friday. It is an odd place - very modern and not particularly picturesque - but more comfortable than a lot of the places we have visited. It was designed to sustain a low population density and has lots of mod cons like pavements. We are relishing being able to walk down the street without serious risk of being run over.

We have found a lovely bar called Slippers (actually, Sippers, but artistic licence and semi-dyslexia led me to believe otherwise.) It is part of a very posh hotel but they kindly allow us to drink there, despite our tramp-like appearance,  in the vain hope that one day we might order more than cheap Indian lager. They will be waiting a long time.

This morning we visited the rock garden in Chandigarh, which is apparently India's most visited tourist attraction. It was designed and built by a man who was involved in building roads, post partition, and wanted to recycle the waste products caused by all the construction. The result is part amusement park, part public gardens. Everything is made from rubbish - broken crockery, old sockets, bricks, scrap metal, and even unwanted jewellery. It is one of the most bizarre things I have seen in India, and that's saying something.

Unfortunately the experience was spoilt rather by being papped by every bastard with a camera phone. It baffles me how Indian people can be so interested in Westerners when they watch American TV, listen to British and American bands, wear Western clothing, but still they seem to go a bit mad when they see white people. Needless to say, I did a lot of glaring. Hopefully they will be too frightened to look at the photos again. Ha.

Shimla: the Benidorm of the hill stations

Yesterday we left McLeod Ganj and spent seven stomach-churning hours in the car travelling to Shimla. The driver actually had to leave the vehicle to throw up at one point. Nice. We arrived at about 6pm and discovered that most of Shimla is pedestrianised and is also on the world's steepest hill so we were unceremoniously thrown out of the car with the rucksacks to hike our way to civilisation. The Lonely Planet lists the hotel we wanted to stay in in the wrong place (have since checked online and it really is the LP's fault and not our poor map-reading), so we were marching around fruitlessly for hours, getting harrassed by touts and sweating all over the place.

Eventually we decided we were going to have to stay somewhere else so started asking each place we saw if they had a room. Nowhere had vacancies and everywhere was ridiculously expensive. We ended up in a hotel at the bottom of about four hundred steps where we found a mouse in our room. I kid you not. We then had to move room, I had to get them to change the bed three times ("no, I want CLEAN bedding, this is NOT CLEAN"), and we were woken up several times by the world's rowdiest neighbours.

Shimla is a bizarre place. It's a cross between a hill station, a run down English high street, and Benidorm. It has some beautiful buildings and views but feels really touristy, and not in a good way. It is absolutely packed with Indian people on holiday who like to spend their days promenading in the rain, eating candyfloss and bashing into each other. We were going to spend five days here but have decided to move on tomorrow to Chandigarh for the final week in India. In the meantime we will be watching lots of straight-to-TV films in our (hopefully) rodent-free room.

The films are quite heavily edited to remove any swearing or love scenes. Whoever is in charge of programming seems to think it is totally fine to play the world's most violent films at 9am, but that the nation would be corrupted by seeing people kissing. So weird, but what do you expect from a country where you are forbidden to smoke on the street but are allowed to have a bath on the main road?

Last day of antibiotics

And my goodness, I am excited. For the past five days I haven't been able to have anything made with milk or cheese, anything spicy or oily, mangoes, papayas or watermelon, any of the usual stuff like salad, any fizzy drinks or alcohol. My staple diet has been bananas and I have been a bit worried about the likelihood of an altercation with a rogue monkey.

We have decided to stay in McLeod Ganj until Wednesday with Ram the hotel manager/pharmacist, and then we are heading to Shimla. Via car. Score. We are planning to spend the next few days doing a bit of souvenir shopping, maybe doing a cookery course, and hopefully doing at least one day of the volunteering we found out about. Also hopefully learning a new card game because we only know one and it's getting a bit tiresome. Particularly with Joe singing "The Ace of Spades" and "Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend" over the top.

Shimla is another hill station so should be nice and cool still. It is the place where the Raj government retreated to in the summer so we are expecting lots of faded opulence and tea with milk. There is also a bird sanctuary full of exotic pheasants. Random. From Shimla we go on to Chandigargh. Chandigargh is a modern city built to be the capital of the Punjab when Lahore ended up in Pakistan. Apparently the architecture is crazy and it's full of trees and interesting things to see.

From Chandigargh I think we are going to fly to Mumbai for our flight to Colombo which is a week on Friday. I feel like we have been in India for about three years so it is quite novel to be thinking about going to another country. We are also working out routes and plans for the rest of the trip while we're here. Well, I say we are working this stuff out, but really I mean Joe is working this stuff out and I am typing nonsense.

Our new date for returning in the UK is the 19th August. So we have just under two weeks left in India, two weeks in Sri Lanka, half a week in Bangkok, half a week in Bali (stupid stupid STA) then five weeks in the states. Exciting!

Keep your fingers crossed that we don't have to seek any further medical attention!

Hospital visits

Well, my upset stomach continued to get worse and after a consultation with the hotel manager/pharmacist, we decided to go to hospital to have an IV drip. This was pretty much my worst nightmare about going away but actually the hospital and the staff were great. More insects than you'd get in England and no privacy but other than that all good.

They prescribed me new medicines, which seem to be working, and once the drip was finished I went home. This was Tuesday.

Yesterday, after spending most of the day in bed, we ventured out for a (soft) drink. While we were sitting down my neck started to feel really stiff and strange and as we walked home my throat seemed to be closing up. Back to hospital we went. Turned out it was anaphylactic shock. God knows what had caused it. It was terrifying though. The doctors treated it with steroid and antihistamine jabs and I got to go home last night. I had to go in for blood tests this morning but nothing untoward showed up.

Feeling much better now but pretty freaked out and wishing I was in England.

Miss you all

X

Ou est le Dalai Lama?

We are in McLeod Ganj, aka Upper Dharamsala, which is where he lives. No sign of him yet although he is on TV a lot speaking in Tibetan about stuff. According to his website he goes to Australia on Saturday so I really need to find him soon. Apparently if you give him a white scarf he will bless it and give it back to you. Unfortunately I don't have a white scarf so I'll have to give him my new big gay travelling trousers. All I seem to do in India is buy trousers. These ones make me look like I have one extremely fat leg with trotters poking out of the bottom, which is nice. Photos coming soon.

I have been ill for, well, I can't really remember not being ill these days. Thank heavens for being able to buy antibiotics over the counter for a pound. Although maybe they are actually not antibiotics because they don't seem to have had any effect. I am trying to focus on the potential weight loss implications - there are no scales here so I've decided that I probably weigh eight stone (shh.)

You may recall that Joe and I wanted to do some volunteering while we're here and we've found the perfect thing. Taking children to the park for three hours a day. I mean, how hard can it be? Joe says I will struggle because the only games I know are drinking games but I am confident in my abilities. I have learned a lot since I gave a baby a coat hanger to play with.

It is seriously beautiful here and doesn't really feel like India at all. There are Buddhist monks and nuns all over the place and prayer flags everywhere. Our room has an incredible view of the mountains only marred slightly by the building site below. Indians seem to have a very relaxed attitude to health and safety so the guys working on the site wear flipflops and don't have hats. C'est tres dangereux.

Tomorrow, we are going to look at the Dalai Lama's house. Hopefully he will be in there so I can burst in and surprise him. If not I suppose I will be boarding the next plane to Australia. Wish me luck...

Joe's guest blog - tales from the Punjab

Kate has kindly let me take over the blog for this entry as it is about our visit to the Punjab.  The land of the Sikhs.  As many of you will know, I am a big fan of our turban wearing friends and so was particularly looking forward to this part of the trip!

We were due to fly from Delhi to Amritsar at 5:00AM.  So we dutifully arrived at 3.30 to check in at the airport.  Of course, with this being India the flight didn't leave until 10.00.  So I decided that I would use the time to discover more about Sikhism from one of the scores of Sikhs that were also delayed.  Arvinder Singh was the lucky oracle of information I chose to learn from.  Here is a brief extract from our exchanges-

AS- India cannot manage itself.  Look at this flight.  We cannot do it.  We do not deserve democracy.  We do not take the responsibility seriously enough.

JB- OK, but what do you think would be better?

AS- A good dictator.......... like Hitler.

So my attempts to be culturally aware were quickly smashed into a fascist brick wall.

We eventually arrived in Amritsar.  Home of the Golden Temple.  It is to Sikhs what Mecca is to Muslims (although Kate the 'theologian' thought it was a Hindu temple).  I presume (as I imagined the same) that a site of such sacred stature conjures up images of quiet meditation and serenity.  

Well you are wrong. So very wrong.  The Golden Temple is a free for all.  Indians aren't great at queuing at the best of times but the dining hall (where, in fairness, anyone can eat for free) and the temple itself are Hillsborough style disasters waiting to happen.  Indeed, I am sure that much like football, it will take such an accident for the authorities to take the problem seriously and clamp down on the hooligan element (which in the case of the Sikhs seems to consist mainly of five foot elderly ladies).

Many of you will know of the Golden Temple from the controversial 'Operation Blue Star' when Prime Minister Indira Gandhi ordered the army to storm the Temple to flush out Sikh separatists.  An action that ultimately led to her being gunned down by her own Sikh bodyguards (she didn't seem to think that one through).  It is however, a spectacular place to visit and well worth a trip (I should take a moment to mention Kate didn't enjoy the accommodation dormitory for pilgrims and visitors.  A hotel is advisable unless you like sharing with strange Australians who make friends with the spear wielding Sikh security staff by referring to the sacred pool surrounding their holy Temple as 'that huge pond')

The other activity of note near Amritsar is the daily ceremony that occurs for the closing of the India-Pakistan border crossing.  It takes a while to get to the border and security is understandably tight. As with everywhere in India, we were separated into male and female lines for being searched.  This made me worried about losing Kate in the large crowd.  However, being a good seven inches taller than the average Indian you see her angry head being pushed around by the tiny grannies and take comfort in the fact she is safe and never likely to be lost. 

The ceremony itself is hilarious.  Think grandstands of chanting Indians and Pakistanis with flags and easily excited comperes to get them going, two nuclear military powers that hate and hate nothing more than losing face in front of the other, a shouting competition between two sergeant majors and goose stepping straight out of Python's ministry of silly walks and you get some idea of what it's like.  I wanted to get involved with the rivalry and patriotism and start some chants I thought the Indian's would take to.  'It's all gone quiet in Pakistan' was a non-starter and Kate barred me from my other two chants of 'You're Shi'ite and you know you are' and for the female contingent of the Pakistani crowd 'get your face out for the lads!'  (Kate described both as crude, brash and culturally insensitive'.  Can't think why?).  So alas, I had little effect on the boring if loud chants from the Indian side!

Anyway we are now in the peace and cool of McLeod Ganj in Himachal Pradesh.  I feel like a member of the East India company retreating to a hill station to get away from the heat and all those who tried to crush us in the Punjab.  I will let Kate amuse you with the details of out trip here and what we get up to.

Thanks for reading!

(the below YouTube clip gives you a taste of the border ceremony)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i6l1CHTpt30

Possible mongoose sighting

You heard me. Neither of us is 100% sure what a mongoose looks like but we have photographic evidence which I will share if we can ever find a USB lead for the camera. Same goes for a possible chipmunk. It could just be a squirrel with stripes. You'll have to wait and see.

In other words, hello from Delhi.

We are staying in the Hotel Eurostar; a truly glamorous place boasting sheets that other people haven't slept in, room service, and only around a dozen ants per room. Bliss. We are only a few miles from the airport which is handy for our 5am flight to Amritsar. I just can't wait for the 2.45 wake up call.

The hotel offers a special deal on a taxi (with driver, obvs), for a half or a full day's sightseeing. After a bit of gentle persuasion (harrassment) from the concierge we decided to do it. Turned out to be the best money we ever spent because it is about four hundred degrees outside and if we hadn't had AC I would, quite simply, have died.

We saw some amazing sights - the red fort (home to the mongoose and a museum featuring papier mache British soldiers slaughtering Indians), the Gandhi memorial and museum (featuring Gandhi's actual bed and glasses - quite moving), the India gate, the parliament building, and a launderette called Sweet & Crusty. Like Mumbai we found the city experience quite overwhelming but have decided we are definitely Team Delhi. It could be the fact that we had a chaffeur but I think it's more a traveller vibe kind of a thing...

Tomorrow we head to the Punjab to eat tandoori'd goods and hang out with Joe's favourite people, the Sikhs. I'm not joking, he loves Sikhs. Every time we see a man in a turban he gets really excited. I hope Amritsar is ready for this.

Enjoy the bank holiday!

They have Pizza Hut in India

Not that we have been there, you understand. We are far too intrepid for that...

I am writing this from an internet cafe in Ernakulam. Each computer is in a separate cubicle which is rather peculiar and is putting me off my flow a bit. Also I only have fifteen minutes before we get chucked out so here goes.

We left the beach this morning and successfully managed to get on a train. I don't think we have ever felt a greater sense of achievement. Degree schmee, boarding that train in (almost) the correct compartment was our biggest accomplishment to date. Joe made a friend on the train. He was called Thomas and carried a shoehorn in his shirt pocket because you never know when that might come in handy.

We are staying in a total fleapit tonight and getting royally ripped off for the privilege but at least there is a TV and clean(ish) sheets. Tomorrow morning we are flying to Delhi which is totally terrifying considering we haven't even mastered the art of crossing the road. People who have been to both cities keep telling us that Mumbai is a breeze compared to Delhi. Not wholly reassuring. Our plan is to go to the Red Fort and eat at the restaurant made famous by Gordon Ramsay. Slightly more likely itinerary will be hiding in the hotel and sending one of the waiters to buy us cigarettes.

The other big news is that in my infinite wisdom I persuaded Joe it was a good idea to leave our towels behind at our last guesthouse. The upshot is we will now be drying ourselves on what look like PLO scarves. Apparently that is what passes for absorbency in Kerala.

I need to go now before the internet woman murders me but will write at length in the next few days.

X

Hello from the most dangerous beach in the world

We moved to Varkalla beach on Friday. I'm not even going to go into the journey except to mention that I was caught in a stampede of passengers and would have had to stay on the bus for the rest of my life had it not been for the kind Indian man who threw my rucksack out of the window.

Anyway, it is really beautiful here. The Lonely Planet says the current is one of the most dangerous in the world but I thought pah, I'm from Cornwall, it can't be that bad. It was. Despite the fact that all I do in Cornwall is sit in bars I seem to have mentally rebranded myself as an outdoorsy sportsperson. Anyway, I didn't get swept away but I did end up accidentally underwater. They have two lifeguards but neither of them have any equipment which isn't hugely reassuring. They have whistles though, which they like to use liberally.  

Because it is now the end of the tourist season in Southern India, everywhere is quite quiet. There are lots of restaurants so desperate for business that they have twenty page menus selling Indian, Thai, Chinese, Japanese, Italian, Mexican, etc etc, plus a "continental" section full of hilarious things that no actual people eat like chicken schnitzel and steak diane. We have met some nice people here, one of whom told us about a restaurant menu he saw in Goa which said "disposable vomit bags available on request." Excellent. 

On Saturday we are flying to Delhi which is apparently FORTY degrees at the moment so that should be a real treat for the senses. In the meantime my main occupation is haggling with the book swap man. By hook or by crook I am going to get my hands on his copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. He should sleep with one eye open. 

OK, Kochi is not the capital of Kerala

I thought I had a good chance of being correct so I didn't bother to check. The actual capital is called Trivsahfhjsalafhankamnmddhdasvjytufmahgaritos or something like that. So excuse me for using a bit of artistic license.

I am writing this on a computer so old that the keys are probably made of ivory. The caps lock keeps getting stuck so I might start shouting halfway through. Sorry about that.

Thank you to everyone for your comments on the blog. In response to a few of them, yes I am wearing suncream every day now and I have persuaded Joe that we should fly to Delhi. Ha.

We are still in Fort Cochin because the Indians are on strike today.  We are checking out tomorrow and either heading to Varkalla, which is a beach resort area, or to a sustainable bungalow thing where they teach you to cook traditional Keralan food. Then off to Delhi and into the North - the general idea is Amritsar (Golden Temple), Dharamsala (tea with the Dalai Lama), nature reserve (can't spell the name) then back to Mumbai aka hell on earth to fly to Sri Lanka.

We are looking at cutting two weeks from the trip - one week from Bali and one week from the States - because we are already fretting about money. I will let you know what we decide. I'm sure not many of you care but we need someone to pick us up from the airport.

I expect you want an update on Bob and Yvonne. Well. We avoided them for the afternoon, booked our boat trip (amazing; total silence except for the boat steerer man's phone constantly ringing (his ringtone was fur elise)), then bumped into them in the evening. They'd been doing some painting with a guy who has an art studio here. Apparently it was such a beautiful experience, man. We went for a few beers with them and it was quite nice actually but now they have gone to Goa to find some acid. So fucking cool.

Time to go and do boring admin stuff in the boiling heat.

xx

The worst part about travelling is the travelling

Or at least it is when you have to do everything with 20kg on your back. I am seriously considering throwing all of my possessions in the bin and travelling around in a sheet like Gandhi.

Yesterday, we checked out of our posh hotel in the Mumbai suburbs so we could head to Kerala.

After several failed attempts to get a train from Mumbai (who knew that such a simple thing could be so bloody complicated), we ended up flying to Kochi, the Keralan capital. We are now in Fort Cochin, which I think is an island although I'm not 100% sure, staying in a room Without Air Conditioning. I didn't think it was possible to be so hot. The monsoon has started though so it's not all sunshine. It hit when we in the taxi from the airport yesterday. Joe jumped every time the thunder struck going "ohmygod, what's that??" I think nature red in tooth and claw is a bit much sometimes for poor London Philip.

Tomorrow we are planning to do a daytrip on a Keralan houseboat. However, Bob and Yvonne (real names codeword protected), some people in the same guesthouse, have decided we are NBFs and want us to do an elephant thing with them. Joe and I are doing the mature thing and hiding from them in an internet cafe.

Unlike the people in Mumbai, the Keralans seem to like Western tourists. We had a great chat with one man last night -

"where are you from?"
"london"
"ah, which part?"
"west london"
"west london, ah OK. Near Birmingham?"
"ummm, yes."

I am off to study my Lonely Planet now, or possibly get some travelling trousers. You know the ones where the crotch is by the ankle? Super cool.

I will write again soon xx

Lesson 1 - Wear Suncream

Even when it is cloudy. I am now extremely burnt but trying to hide it from the Indian hotel staff who call me Sir and stare at me when I drink beer.

There are no roundabouts in Mumbai; people just freestyle their way around the roads. Size is king so I think the trick is to get in the biggest possible taxi.

We are leaving tomorrow to go to Kerala. Apparently the train leaves at 11.40pm and takes 26 hours so it's nice and convenient. We may stop somewhere along the way to break it up a bit.

The flight was great and I managed to watch four films so now when I feel homesick I think it's OK because I'm only four films from Heathrow.

Best go now, we are using the concierge's laptop because the "business centre" is being refurbished.

x

Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3

Travel  blogs are us... although we haven't left Earlsfield yet...