The pen is mightier than the sword

Dear friends,
Verily my cup overfloweth, not only am I working and earning, but the new boxing web-site is also up and running and more importantly filling the void in my creative being. Last weekend saw the start of the professional boxing scene up here in the frozen reaches of North East Scotland after a period of inactivity since our local lad Lee McAllister won his Commonwealth Lightweight title belt back in June. This time Lee had a voluntary defence of his newly won crown against another Scot, Charlie King of Motherwell! I'm the only Inspector this far north, so it fell on me to shoulder the duties normally undertaken by two or three men in the principal cities down south. In addition with the new site commissioned for reports of British shows, it piled a wee bit of pressure on yours truly.

That said, because it is a labour of love, I derive pleasure from it and can look back with a modicum of satisfaction when it all fell into place at the end of the night. Then joy of joys, I'm actually going to be paid for the article I've written for a magazine which enjoys a pre-eminent role in terms of boxing written press. This notable first is cause for a celebration (within the financial limits of the payment of course!), since it will be the first actual payment for my written efforts over the last 5/6 years and some 400 articles which had seen the light of day.

For anyone with a penchant for the "Noble Art" I attach the same and welcome any criticism as long as it is constructive;

King shot down by the “Assassin”
Lee McAllister a.k.a. the “Aberdeen Assassin” successfully defended his recently acquired Commonwealth Lightweight title against fellow Scot, Charlie King in another complete sell-out Beach Ballroom in Aberdeen on Saturday 17th October. This voluntary defence had a bit of spice in the parochial world of Scottish Boxing, with King insisting that McAllister was complacent prior to the bout. Nothing could have been further from the truth, or if McAllister had been so disposed, he made a good job of hiding it. The manner of his finishing the bout was clinical and devastating in 1 min 23 seconds of round 7 when Star referee Victor Loughlin didn’t even bother with a count going straight to the aid of the stricken Motherwell boxer King.
McAllister (9st 8lb 14ozs) let King (9st 7lb 10ozs) take the centre of the ring from the first bell, presumably just to see what King had to offer, and King does have all the necessary requisites as a boxer, but not enough to pierce the defensive qualities which McAllister picked up during his time with the “Ingles”. McAllister on the other hand, has picked up some venom and meat in his punches which he did not possess until moving to work with Dave Coldwell.
The 2nd round saw McAllister take a more measured approach, but King was still in there jabbing and trying to box to get through with a second and third shot all to little avail. McAllister's right hooks are knocking the resolve out of King and it is showing more with each passing round. The look on both boxers’ faces between rounds is telling its own story. King looks dejected by the end of 5 whereas McAllister is his usual animated self, chatting to Dave Coldwell as though this was just another day at the office (which in truth it was). McAllister’s thumping rights to Kings left flank are painful to watch much less be on the receiving end of, and as his resistance ebbs away so does what chances he had. The end when it came was dramatic, an exocet of a straight right sending King staggering back some two yards into the ropes above the timekeeper and me, to be followed by his legs sliding out from under him and the inevitable collapse in a heap on the canvas. No count necessary as the show was over there and then. Fortunately, King recovered within a couple of minutes with the attention of the ringside doctors et al; and was able to stagger back to his corner.

The show opener had Jamie Ambler 12st 9lb stopping Quinton Hillocks 12st 10lb 8ozs under the rsc rule in round 5. However, he can feel somewhat fortunate in having done so, as Hillocks had the better of the openers and would have built up a tidy wee lead only to run out of steam. Back to the drawing-board for Hillocks then, in terms of stamina. I’m sure he’ll have realised that himself and will address that before his next outing.

Fettercairn boxer James Ancliff 8st 13lb 8ozs met Paul McElhinney 8st 13lb 6ozs over 8 x 2 minute rounds in the second bout of the undercard. Since Fettercairn is only some 20 miles out of Aberdeen, Ancliff has a fair few fans with him and they’re vocal in support. However, McElhinney is unfazed by the bias of support for the local man and boxes well behind his jab. Ancliff probably took the first on his aggressive approach, but faded out of contention as his frustration at not being able to break down the youngsters resistance and boxing skills, began to show. The referee scored it 77-75 to McElhinney and he moves on undefeated. Ancliff on the other hand, extends to a five bout run of losses and may have to consider the options open to him.

Chris Brophy 11st 6lb 2ozs from Swansea met up with Chris Thompson 11st 5lb 4ozs in the final bout before the main one. This fight had contrasting styles, Thompson the more rounded boxer and Brophy content to counter the Yorkshireman. In the end the boxing skills of Thompson won the day and by a reasonable margin of 60-55. Brophy did though make it a reasonable contest by putting a fair amount of sweat and effort and it was never as one sided as the score implies with some of the rounds being close. Thompson’s defence though was a thing of beauty to those of us who were not viewing proceedings via the bottom of a pint glass.

This was the first time in Scotland that a boxing show was relayed through the world wide web and could be regarded as a technological first up here, apart that is for someone who's very dear to me not being able to view it on the laptop. Is it the harbinger of things to come? At only £3.99 a pop, then the answer must a resounding yes. Welcome to the digital age!

This allied to the undoubted spring in the 63 year old steps has definitely breathed new life into a tired body.

Salad days for a carnivore!!

The irony of having "Salad days" when the reality is I'm as much a carnivore as the meat eaters of the animal kingdom is not lost on me! I detest all things green as being tasteless, sans texture and pretty much a waste of mastication. Of course green is my favourite colour but that is more on the basis of my Irish ancestry and my love for a football team that play in hoops in Glasgow (that dear green place). There is some misplaced pride in being the archetypal West of Scotland man, if God had meant me to eat vegetables, I'd have been born a rabbit and not been given incisors. Give me pies, meat and anything sweet!!

Back to the point of the salad days; I intimated in the last post that I'd joined the ranks of the wage slaves after a period of being another statistic on the British list of shame, the number of people who were out of work and actively (?) seeking employment. I have just completed my first two weeks of satisfying work with a decent return in terms of money for my efforts, the signs for the future are good and I'm really enjoying the challenge of changing from carbon energy to renewable energy. The work is mentally stimulating, infinitely more challenging than I'd been used to under corporately controlled, procedurally hog-tied, top of the food chain, oil industry. More to the point I've saved them more money in that first fortnight than I'll be paid for the next 6 months using my experience and they are a really good young company to work for!

Ally that to the salve for my conscience, of being in renewable energy as opposed to the scrabble to get sticky hands on a finite resource (oil) and you'll appreciate my contentment.

Life's been a bit of a "sticky wicket" since my return from the sub-continent, and the resultant "bouncers and yorkers" from life's bowlers had me worried for a bit. No more though, as I'm happy in the knowledge that with a bit of luck and a fair wind in my sails I'll manage to navigate my way back to Delhi in 2010, but probably only for a fortnight's holiday time. This will get me back to see all my guys in Mother Teresa's (and of course Sister Maria and the residents in Merhauli Road).

I'd a very interesting e-mail from the US the other day, it came from a lady who's preparing to go to Delhi for a similar period (2 months) and in 2010. Like me she doesn't have a teaching background and we're both probably about the same age group since she's retired. CCS have me down as an "alumni" whatever one of those is! I assume it to be like a former pupil, anyway they had prompted her to e-mail me for my thoughts. I'm delighted to have been able to re-affirm her thoughts about India and let her know that if she metaphorically immerses herself in the Ganges with India, then India will envelop her with warmth and love in return. Good luck Suzan!

I needed a kick up the jacksy!

Since my sojourn in Delhi, it has been like a long holiday except the weather here is crap! On the plus side, my bowling has improved (grass not ten pin), but since it is lacking in financial stimulus it was never going to stop the draining of my savings. I'm going to have a wee bitch now, last year I paid almost £20k in tax, this year post Delhi, I rashly thought Her Majesty's tax flunkey's would have deemed it fair play to give some back! How wrong can you be? A derisory offer of £8 per week job-seekers allowance was all that was on offer, oh and by the way you need to travel a round trip of 30 miles each week to get it!
Is it any wonder the people of this country are mightly hacked off when they see MP's milking the system like some sort of Jersey cow with a full udder, and you're offered such a pittance to seek work.
That said I'd been pounding the market myself for anything (including shelf stacking or driving) that would stop the outward flow of funds from the savings I'd been fastidiously putting away over the last couple of years. All to no avail, it seemed that experience was not as valuable a commodity as I'd errantly thought. Is it ageism I asked myself on more than one occasion? A friend suggested lying about my age by about 13 years, a sort of back handed compliment in a way, since he obviously thought I could pass for 50 instead of 63.
I'll never know as the need to fabricate a c.v. minus my time in the RAF wasn't needed, and I'm now back in the land of the wage slaves. There's been other changes in my life which I'll not bother you with, but suffice to say there's now a spring in the step, if only on the basis of being back in gainful employment! This means that with a bit of luck and a fair wind in my sails, I can return to Delhi sometime in the not too distant future.

The old adage of "Whit's fur ye, will no go bye ye" has held good and if fate dictates your course in life then go with the flow as it is pointless trying to pee against the wind.

The final count-down

In 24 hours or so I'll be back at Indira Gandhi International airport checking in with Air France and what I hope will be a relatively shortish journey back to Steenhive. There are, as you may imagine, a variety of emotions coursing through the veins today! I haven't exactly said farewell to Mother Teresa's as I'm going back tomorrow to foist my fashion sense (or lack of it!) onto the guys with all my western clothes. I just know that this will be a "ball-breaker" as Sister Maria has told me that the guys have really taken to me, and she is such an honest person that I can't see her ever telling a "porky-pie".

My thoughts about the whole thing are difficult to quantify or indeed put into paper/writing, but I hope that the blog has been a wee taster of the sort of time I've had the privilege of having here in Delhi. This is particularly the case at MT's, more so than the Habitat Learning Centre, since the need at the former is so much greater!

Has India changed me? Without a shadow of a doubt it has had the most profound effect on my attitude towards things commercial. I won't say that I'll not be trying to cut a deal wherever possible and for whomsoever I'm working for, but the fact is that no matter what problems we (collectively) have in life, then we can all rest assured that they are as nothing, in comparison to the residents of MT's. On that basis my patience has been forced to review it's speed of running, and to adopt a more pragmatic approach to life at a slower pace. The grinding poverty some of the 1.2 billion people live in without a state safety net of social security is not a pretty sight, but they are still entitled to dignity as that has no monetary value, and at that price dignity is cheap for everyone.

I said in an earlier post that the paradox of India is the extremes of everything; wealth, health, technology and kindness to some animals while at the same time demonstrating an almost blase approach to death in all of its forms (accidental, suicidal, homicidal, fratricidal, matricidal and any other "cidal" you can think of). The Billionaires against the 20 rupees a day labourer (if he gets paid at all). The leading lights in I.T. and medicine and the almost middle ages style of rural agriculture where the tools and methods are still the same as those of the 13th century.

India is a very proud and ancient civilisation, there is a passion about being Indian which is endearing and unlike other forms of nationalism which I tend to gloss over. In a society where there are so many forms of religion, they exist side by side, with each being equal in everyones eyes (a lesson there for Scotland!). Their constitution has this equality cast in a tablet of stone and no-one would dream of trying to dismantle the status quo in that area. There is a paranoia which I found disconcerting when it comes to Pakistan, the antipathy towards their near neighbour is tangible and is one area which has the capacity to really set the region alight if it's not kept under lock and key.

The quirks of India have been too numerous to mention here, but the traffic, and their propensity for beeping the horn of whatever they're driving both night and day, is a drain physically and mentally while you're in it, yet there seems very few instances of "road-rage" which is perhaps a "Hindu" thing and, the being re-born dependant on how you've behaved in this life. Which brings me back to guy who comes into MT's every week on a Thursday with cakes/sweets for all the male and female residents. The Barber who gives up his time to give the guys a shave and hair-cut once a week free gratis. Neither of these two guys are "Christians", they're both Hindi! (Mmmhh can't see that happening in some of Scotland's cities)

So "Mera Dosts" with a heavy chunk of sadness at leaving Delhi and it's people whom I've really taken to, here's a final Namaste from the "effin ref". In fact I don't think I was that bad a referee.

Just when I thought I'd seen everything, the "Jains" pop up

Shanta and I were having a leisurely drive to Mother Teresa's this morning when we noticed some female members of the sect in all white saris, and we remarked on how they looked crossing the road. That was before we saw the male members (literally) following them. Four of them followed the sisters with not a stitch between them! They did carry staffs or walking sticks but naff all else, not even so much as a loin cloth between them. All of this while crossing the main road in single file. It took my breath away on the shock basis if nothing else, (and I can assure you there was nothing else literally).

The day at MT's flew by as we had mass first thing which always throws the schedule a bit out of kilter, but it was a productive day and I'm left with a bit of an empty feeling as I'll only be there for two more working days, and Sister Maria did say that the men will miss me too as we've all got on well together despite the language barriers. I hesitate to think how I'll feel on Friday when it comes to an end as it has been an emotional journey!

On the road home to the base my roadside barber was quietly waiting for custom so I duly obliged by getting off the transport and crossing the storm drains to sit on my seat supported by two slabs over the actual drain itself. He duly did the business and noted that my finger nails were a bit ragged and offered to give me a manicure to boot. Well in for a penny in for a pound as they say so I agreed thinking he'd the necessary equipment.

How wrong can you be? He pulled out what was in effect half of a hacksaw blade with one end sharpened, this was to be the tool of choice for my first ever manicure. I have to say even I was filled with trepidation, but let him get on with it. The result was not bad at all, if somewhat archaic in implementation, that allied to the shave and a massage came to the princely sum of 100 rupees (about $2), I'm certainly going to miss all this when I return in 4 days. I can't see Gordon or Kate in the Stoney Barbers doing either for that sort of money!

Namaste from Delhi.

Goa - The place that time forgot, but not the "Hippies"

Since our gang are all longer term volunteers, we get a long weekend as a treat. We'd already decided on some sea, sun and general relaxation in Goa. Our flight left Delhi on time and we were in Goa in the two hours flying time advertised. That was meant to let the readers know the distances involved, it is further away than Rome from the UK. That said we'd a hotel booked which at the last minute was cancelled, and Zoe (a friend of Laiah's) had booked us into a "guest house" on one of the beaches. It sounded alright, but the reality was that the room I had to myself was pretty rudimentary which I could have put up with, were it not for the battalion of bed-bugs which came free of charge. The location was indeed on the beach but the walk to it was disconcertingly dark and isolated with the occasional call from the darkened bushes in broken English.

Shanta, Erin and I decided that enough was enough and we opted to hire a taxi and go further north away from what can best be described as the worst of Ibiza with Garam Masala thrown in. It had so many expat pubs and disco/clubs that I didn't really feel that I was in India at all. The end result was another hours drive to where the beaches were cleaner, infinitely less crowded and there was a distinct lack of double base pounding out. We checked out a variety of hotels and their facilities and picked one that had us in tents, not the common or garden type of tents, rather ones that had t.v. (satellite to watch the Barclays premiership live), shower, toilet and guaranteed no mosquitos! That last item was a must. The place also had a swimming pool, catering facilities and first class service all for about twenty quid a night.

The saturday night had us travel about twenty kms to a market, but not just any old market, this one is where the hippies come out to sell their wares, it had two live bands on the go, food counters from every part of the known world, draught beer and the bonus of not having to roll a joint to get high! All you had to do was walk around the market which must have had about 200 stalls catering for all tastes (providing you have an eclectic taste!), the style was very much a la "San Francisco" in the sixties with the twist that most of the hippies were either British or European in origin. The sight of a very portly hippy with blonde (?) dreadlocks and about 60+ in years was okay till he spoke with a broad "Brummie" accent, the Jesus boots and denim outfit did look in place but incongruously the accent didn't. It just seemed out of place with my interpretation of a hippy, never mind he's positively at home there so it doesn't matter if I don't get it.

Sunday is a real chill-out day for us, as we spend it on the almost deserted beach, and having fish masala with paratha soaked in butter and straight out of the oven, a kingfisher beer on the veranda of a beach bar which isn't over-crowded is my idea of heaven! I really caught the rays there and my tan looks positively brownish, well on the face and forearms! We're not scheduled to fly out of Goa until 8p.m. on Monday evening so decide that we'll go to the waterfall in the Collem park, which on the surface sounds innocuous enough, until you find that there is a 10km drive over the roughest track imaginable, if I thought the rickshaws were a pain in the arse, then this took the biscuit! At the end of the trail there's about a 150 or so yards of climbing over boulders and the pool at the base of the falls (which are about 300-400 foot high) a lot of the visitors are swimming in this pool, but with my negative buoyancy, crap knees and spine now damaged irrepairably, I gave it a miss! The girls and I shared the Tata motors 4x4 with a couple just out on holiday from Blackpool for this back-breaking ride to and from the start point! They were good company and put up with us having to go back when Shanta had left her watch on the rock where she changed for her swim. Believe it or not she found it so all's well that ends well.

The 8p.m. flight to Delhi is late (by 3 hours) and we don't leave Goa until 11p.m. which means that by the time we get back to base it is 2a.m. and I need to get my laundry ready for the morning, this meant that it was nearly 3 before I got to bed and have to be up for 6a.m. to go to Mother Teresa's. It is done but I'm cream-crackered for the want of sleep.

An after-thought, there's two new girls from the US arrived while we were down in Goa, I swear to god that one of them is a clone of the early finishing New Yorker. I lay 5/4 on that she doesn't last the 3 weeks either! This is a pity as it makes people think that Americans are schizo's, when in fact Laiah, Shanta, Lindsay and Erin have been model examples of everything that is good about America. This latest model would curdle milk at 30 paces with the looks she's giving everything from food to the need for the door to be locked when I'm sitting in front of it, before shutting herself in her room without so much as a by your leave! The consolation is that I only have 3 more days and I can handle that no bother at all. The one from Colorado though, has to put up with her for the whole period. God help her and the staff.

Namaste from a very tired correspondent.

Making a monkey out of my hanging the washing out!

This morning started with mass and Fr Julian, then we all trooped outside for a celebration of the youngest nun's birthday! The whole shebang of us had flowers (individual ones) and after two of the women sang to her with the traditional refrain of "Happy Birthday" but in Hindi, she was decked out with some garlands and everyone took it in turns to hand her a flower. The ladies who're resident had all dressed up in their finest (Sari's or Sarwal Kameez'), the guys on the other hand were just their usual rag, tag and bobtail selves. It was a nice interlude to the run of the mill cleaning and swilling down, but that was only postponed not cancelled, as that wouldn't do at all.

By the time I got round to helping hang out the blankets on the roof, we were joined by a couple of monkeys who were oblivious to the industry around them. Since they were only about six feet away it was obvious that they weren't fazed in the slightest by the activity (not that the speed of work is earth shattering).

Last night I met with Paul for dinner, and if I'd known he was going to pay I'd have gone easy on the "Long Island Ice Teas", having consumed two before he arrived, still I could have been on the wine list which would really have strained PSN's finances! We didn't argue post the league cup final, and generally left that side of Scottish life alone. It was a good night which I enjoyed, and the Iced Teas made the rickshaw drive home fairly painless when sobriety would have rendered my spine in need of a chiropractor.

Sad to say yet another fatality on the flyover yesterday, words fail me! The blame game has started and the designers saying it's the motorists fault and the public say the opposite! I note they've installed speed bumps on the flyover now in an attempt to curtail the carnage, a bit late in the day if you ask me.

Namaste from your wilting scribe in Delhi.

From Barber to Manicurist in a single leap!!

My barbering skills have left their impression on some of the guys and they still come back for more. This I can't understand, but since none of them will be going out for a while then it is no big deal. This morning Shanta brought nail varnishes for the ladies in the hospice and started to give them the tlc that may not feature too much in their lives. The joy on their faces was worth a fortune in gold. She really has a nack for making people happy in an otherwise bleak situation, such was the demand on her services I went into give her a hand so to speak.

The combination of my shaky hands and the inalienable fact that I've never put on any nail varnish means that I'll pass on that occupation on my return to Steenhive! One of the older women too had a shake in her hands (Parkinsons I think), if only she and I could have got our shakes co-ordinated she'd have got a belter of a job done. In any event the ladies weren't too bothered that my efforts weren't a patch on Shanta's, the attention was more important than the quality of the finished article.

The pompous one has taken on the mantle of spokesperson (I don't think, at least not for me!) and is exacerbating the already fraught situation within the group, she's obviously suffering from that well known Hawaiian disease "Lakkanooky" and would do well just to shut her "north and south" and keep it that way!

As a sad aside, the dreaded flyover has now claimed another life, that makes 7 fatalities in 6 days all in the same area of the road. Such a tragic turn of events in the UK would undoubtedly see the road closed and a thorough examination of the facts over design etc undertaken, but there are rumblings of that here but no action thus far!

The temperature is inexorably creeping up and it is 35c today, and means I'm wilting a bit under it as it means that what little energy I have has dissipated by lunch. Shanta though is a glutton for punishment and is out on another assignment this afternoon, teaching at one of the mobile creches which are run so that the mother can get back to the labouring job she'll have on a building site. From the temperature perspective it is as well that I came here when I did as in their summer it reaches 50c!

Namaste from the oven!

Paul's not too upset and I promise not to gloat!

Paul and I will get together tomorrow night for a nose-bag and a couple of beers, so the result hasn't dampened his state of mind. I hereby promise in writing that I won't bring up the subject of the mighty Bhoys turning over the evil Empire.

The time is drifting inexorably towards the end of this wee jaunt and there's still some last minute things to buy, so I went out for some retail therapy today after the meeting which was to put things right within the group (fat chance!). The rather pompous one took it upon herself to vent her spleen at lunch which fortunately I missed as I'd eaten and gone back for a shower to get rid of the dust from the journey home! I'm told it almost resulted in the sisters phoning New York and departing post haste. She did partake in their discussion over culture and tried to pick on me suggesting that marriage was unnecessary and that legislation was needed to protect men from women, i.e. "Fathers for Justice" being the yardstick.

In any event she picked on the wrong guy to have this sort of argument with as those who know me will be fully aware of the joy derived by yours truly when forced to pick sides in an argument which in reality I could have done without! Since she's not married at this time and presumably hasn't been in the past from points she's made in the past, the opinion comes from an inexperienced perspective!

Not all men are toss-pots but then I venture to suggest that women are the ones who're more sinned against than sinners when it comes to the divorce statistics in the west. This whole thing came about on the basis of arranged marriages in India and do they work or not? Well since divorce is a minute aspect of marriage in a population of 1.2 billion, and I really mean minute, then it seems to work for the vast majority.

Enough of the serious crap, her opinion of me and everyone else is of no consequence. As you can see it is another fallow day in the news department of the life of a temporary Delhi resident, so I'll close with "Namaste."

"Trouble at t'mill"

There is dissension within the camp. The new punters don't seem to want to participate in the manner which everyone else has thusfar. The planned topics for discussion, the participation in the cultural events has obviously left them cold, especially the two "Paddies" from Dublin. They go to extraordinary lengths and porky pies to avoid participation, as an example they said they were going to Darjeeling over the "Holi" period, but in reality went to a hotel in Delhi. This afternoon they were supposed to participate in a discussion relating to culture in India and their understanding of it so far. The result was that only one turned up and despite the excuse of feeling sick and having a migraine, one of the Irish girls was in town shopping with her sister. Such a cure should be patented. The end result is that we all have to be at the revised meeting tomorrow and that includes those of us who've already done this! There is a definite rift developing and that can only bode ill for the balance of this week when some of this group piss off! The truth is it probably can't come quick enough for the majority as the latter group have been frankly a bunch who've done nothing to enhance the rapport which to a large extent has been the hall-mark of the sojourn. There have been odd ones who were possibly a pork-pie short of a picnic, but for the most part it has been cool with flexibility on individuals part to accommodate each other.

I know it is difficult to pull diverse characters from across the globe and put them into this sort of circumstances, and events of the last wee while have brought that into sharp focus!

Other than that, the hospice was fine today and the Bhoys won the league cup against the Dark Empire from Govan so I'm over the moon and fear that my meeting with Paul Lapsley (an old friend from KBR who's a blue-nose) may not now take place if he's in the huff !! Rumour has it that the loss of the league cup may be the least of the problems in the West of Glasgow.

Namaste from a Happy Tim in Delhi.

A ceremonial palm planting and the paradox that is India

11.00am on Sunday and what else would one do, except get dressed up in my kurta and meet the great and good of the quadrangle of flats surrounding the garden where the 15 bottle palms I bought for the communal garden are to be planted. In fact it wasn't as cheesy as it could have been and after the wee speech and everyone concerned getting a chance to plant them out we had tea and samosas. There will be a wee sign saying that "some tube from Stonehaven bought these plants and will be remembered for being a tube", seriously though, they were charming and it all went swimmingly with photos aplenty.

Laiah and I being the only ones back at base, went into Connaught Place for lunch in Zen the Chinese/Japanese restaurant and pigged out on fabulous seafood and in my case a beer! By Indian standards it was expensive but the reality was it came to about $34 which included service charge and there was so much I have a doggy bag for tonight which we're to share.

Life in Delhi has been such a paradox of attitudes and practices that in the absence of any news (again, I must be getting boring), I thought I'd share some with you.

The cow is sacred as are monkeys & elephants and yet in a village in Haryana the locals went on a killing spree against the wild dogs which roam about everywhere (none of which seem to attack or even bark at you) on the basis of a story which had circulated that they'd eaten new born babies. The sad truth is that the female infanticide is a more likely source of the disappearing babies. A glaring example of this has been reported this morning when an IT engineer (I thought they were supposed to be smart), was charged with throwing his 4 day old baby daughter down a 30 ft well, what made this gruesome story even more tragic is his defence to the charge was that he wanted to spend more quality time with his wife and hence his actions!

Another story that left me speechless was a fairly famous and wealthy man phoned his wife from somewhere in Essex in England and uttered the word "Talaaq" 3 times to her, and as he's a muslim, she's now divorced despite her having changed to Islam only 3 months ago to please him. To ensure she got the message he sent her an sms with the same utterings.

On "Holi" there were about a thousand people convicted for drunken driving in Delhi alone, they got caught presumably because there was a distinct lack of traffic on the road that day and they must have been the only ones who, being pissed didn't notice!!

There is a flyover in south east Delhi not far from where we are, and it has been so badly designed that 6 people in three separate incidents have fallen off from it to their death in the last four days. On one day alone a family of 4 on a motorcycle (father, mother and two children) were killed after a collision with a crane and resulting in the four of them going over the side falling to their death on the road below, and this only hours after a young man toppled over the edge after a minor collision on the other side of the carriageway.

The number of suicides which happen when people are sacked or laid off is hard to comprehend, though this reaction certainly would reduce tribunals, if not a touch dramatic in the circumstances.

The traffic does get congested on the weekend and given the amount of vehicles on the road I suppose it is strange to see so many road accidents, since it is hard to imagine anyone getting up enough speed to do any lasting damage. The three wheeled rickshaw is the most vulnerable and is for the most part my form of transport when I have to go out at all. It is not hard to imagine it being crushed by some of the behemoths that pass for trucks with the equivalent of railway sleepers as part cabin and load bed. All of which is added to by the quirk employed of just going on whatever side of the road you fancy. The official driving side is the same as the UK, i.e. the left (a hangover from the colonial days), but doesn't seem to hold much sway, since everyone just picks whichever side they want and hope that anything coming the other way will have his lights on in the dark or will slow down to let you back in!

If all of this death and destruction sounds a bit pessimistic, then you'd be wrong. I love the chaos of the traffic in a perverse sort of way and so far the other forms of carnage haven't really impacted on anyone I know, so it is for the most part (and sadly) peripheral to my life in Delhi. It does though make for some gruesome reading in the papers we get daily, and when taken in the context of the life of a "Hindi" believer is paradoxical. Perhaps the high suicide rate is linked to the belief that the worse your life is here, then you must have been pretty awful in an earlier one and the next one will get better.

Namaste from a boring Sunday in Delhi and c'mon the Hoops!!

No news isn't necessarily good news, but then there's no bad news either!

The weekend is here, but 90% of the people aren't as they're off jaunting round the country to various sights. I've to stay behind and go with Yathendra Jafa to get the plants I've decided to buy for the communal garden and Laiah isn't feeling a hundred percent. The New York "cookie" is on her last day, and despite the best attempts of everyone concerned she's still on the planet Zog! I would say a sandwich short of a picnic, but that is an understatement. Tomorrow we'll do the official planting and thereafter Laiah and I will go out for dinner, that'll save the staff coming in to cook for just the two of us.

I've started to think about what I want to do when I get back to Steenhive, and I guess the first thing will be to get a tax rebate, since the last 3 months have seen no wages coming in. Then a tour of the agencies may well be on the cards.

We're all booked up for Goa next weekend and really looking forward to it, I may even push the boat out with the hotel and pamper myself into the bargain. There's nothing much else to report on as it is becoming routine now as we drift towards completion, so I'll sign off with;

Namaste from Delhi

Beasts eating bananas and one who is bananas!

The days are drifting by, and it is only two weeks till I leave, which in some respects will be sad. On the other hand I need to get myself fixed up with a job to earn some filthy lucre in order that I can come back here next year! It was a scorcher today at MT's and quite sapping, the traffic was a nightmare to come back from the hospice. The journey there took 40 minutes and the one back an hour and a half. It appears that some Swami is addressing the faithful in the area today and as a result there must have been in excess of a hundred traffic wardens all blowing whistles and gesturing with their arms for people to move forward. (If only we could)!

This meant that I missed mass this morning and the whole schedule was knocked back, but I did get the chance to feed the cows and the solitary bull with the banana skins we'd left over from giving the guys their mid morning snack of cake (?) and bananas. The sacred animals didn't leave it to waste and the lot were scoffed in the time that I moved onto the next beast! So nothing goes to waste at MT's

Charlotte has announced that she's leaving the programme tomorrow as she can't stand the dust, the heat, the spicy food and just about anything else you can think of. I wonder why she chose to come to India especially if you don't like spicy food. Even a rudimentary check in New York's Indian restaurants would have told her what to expect. What is even more amazing is she tells everyone she's been to India before and stayed in a little village in the south of the country. The village must have been a 5 star hotel with American food 24/7. In fact I do feel sorry for her as she's never really been relaxed here despite the assertion that she is. The fact remains though that you can't tell her anything as it goes in one ear and out the other, and she ignores everything being said to her and talks over whatever you try and advise her on.

Almost everyone else is away for the weekend to somewhere, including a party going to Varanasi, this is supposed to be a vwery holy place in Hindu terms, but for the life of me it only makes me think of the burning corpses on the banks of the river. That is ongoing day and night, so unless you have a strong constitution, and patently some don't, then it isn't high on my agenda.

Tomorrow I'm buying some plants for the communal garden and on Sunday we're having an official planting. These are for Alison who will never get out here, and just a wee momento of my stay which has been great.

Namaste from a scorching Delhi!

Green hair and a purple face!

Today is "Holi" and the whole of India grinds to a halt, in order to celebrate (?) the festival. The CCS staff are having a party round at the HQ in flat 5. I was a bit reticent about going as to be honest I'd rather have gone to Mother Teresa's where they won't be celebrating. The idea is about squirting water over everyone and what I hope now is water based paint powder. The fact is though it was a gas, and we all entered into the spirit of it! The colours are garish yellows, purple, blue, green, red, and any other colour you can think of. I think the object of it is that by colouring everyone you get rid of any ill feeling you may have towards them.

We also had alcohol and snacks which was relatively ground breaking for us, bearing in mind the shenanigans over the bottle of vodka I'd bought earlier for dinner at the Jafa's apartment. I'd thought last night that there had been a shortage of alcohol in the world when I saw the queue outside the off-licence in the market, as it was about 60 long and showed no sign of depleting as they were served only to be joined by others. The guy who bought Gandhi's effects at auction in New York is in liquor for a living, and if the queues are anything to go by it is no wonder he's a billionaire! I really had no idea that Indians consumed so much alcohol with such regularity, jand was taken aback by the rush to get loaded. The other kids in the area came into our party and the whole affair was a riot of colour and a lot of childish fun which appealed despite my reservations.

The colour of my "barnet fair" is fine since I'm green in footballing terms, but the purple kisser makes me look like a beetroot. I feel sure it will come off, but in case it doesn't I'm prepared to have the hair scalped as it'll grow in quick enough but not before I get home, since there is only 16 days till I return to the cold weather! I should add that I'm not counting since it means I'll have to look for a job, and if I earn enough I'll come back next year again but for a month rather than two.

Back to the hospice tomorrow and hopefully to Sagar back from the hospital and feeling better than he was yesterday.

Namaste from Delhi and "Happy Holi, Jai Ho!"

All quiet on the "Western Front"

The home-base internet has crashed and is pretty much dead as a dodo! Never mind, there isn't really any news since Saturday. The weekend was quiet as was Monday at work. It is now fairly routine with the hospice, I have set tasks as soon as I get in and need to knuckle down as the guys have all been up and at it since 5 a.m. The routine of squee-geeing the disinfectant, sluicing down and the hanging of their blankets out on the roof to dry takes up the first couple of hours and then I get a cup of "Masala Chai" which is terribly sweet and spicy. Up on the roof this morning there was a minor surprise when a troop of monkeys came over the left wall of the site and rampaged through the vegetable plot with the leader being pretty large, funnily enough, they were all terrified by my whistle and since I seem to be the only one in the hospice who can actually whistle I'm hardly going to stand and watch the furry yobs! The noise drove them over the wall on the right side and they disappeared into the big posh house with the ostentatious style of garden furniture.

Little Sagar was taken out to the hospital this morning in a rickshaw, I pray he's okay as his smile is infectious and everyone really likes him. Another minor fracas with a couple of the patients ended up with one of them weilding a folding metal chair at one of them and then throwing it at another. I can't say he started it so concentrate on calming things down successfully. The barber who comes once a month to give them a proper shave, came this morning with his assistant and set to work while we were serving lunch. He asked me if I wanted one too so I had to agree, but he did change the blade and his assistant was pretty adept with a razor for someone so young (approx 16yrs old), so to let the guys know that if they are to accept me in every aspect, I submitted to the shave. Probably a bit more risky than the shave I have in the street with leprosy being one of the principal illnesses, but hey hoh, in for a penny in for a pound.

Tomorrow is "Holi" a national holiday in India where everyone gets covered in what I hope is water based paint and in all sorts of colours. Trouble is now I don't have any really old clothes and neither can I apply the recommended coconut oil to my skin in this heat as I'll fry. The newer arrivals have all pissed off to various parts for the holiday which lasts for two days, but the schools may have closed but the hospice goes on 24/7 so I'll be back at it on Thursday, though Wednesday is of necessity a non-working day as there is no transport.

Namaste from Delhi.

We've a slight prang on the way home!

Saturday morning and I'm off like a tourist to see some more of the thriving metropolis. First stop the Bahai Temple known as the "Lotus Temple" not surprisingly because it is like a lotus! It also looks like the Sydney Opera House minus the waterside. The plan was to follow this with a visit to the "Mughal Gardens" which are open today (they're not open every day!), but after my drive there it appears that no cameras or mobiles are allowed inside the gardens. I'm not one for gambling so I decide that I don't need to see the gardens since it means leaving my camera in some large sort of left-luggage tent. The camera has all my pictures since coming here and I've no intention of risking it's loss. On that basis the gardens can be missed. A change of plan sees me go to the "Jama Masjid" the largest mosque in India (it should be noted there are more muslims in India than there is in Pakistan) and the Indian muslim population is second only to Indonesia in terms of numbers.

My footwear are placed for safekeeping with a shoe keeper as opposed to a zoo keeper (puerile joke), and I purchase a small decorative hat for the visit. The temperature is now well up since in keeping with "mad dogs and englishmen" I'm out in the mid-day sun. The result is that walking across the open court yard is like walking on coals that are alight, and again my plates of meat are being put to the test (just like playing football yesterday or the day before with wimpish squeals).

That's enough for me and I'm off back to Connaught Place in the centre, but via the "Thieves Market" as it is known colloquially as, but the tattoo is enough to distract any would be "tea-leaves", so no problem there.

A wee bit of retail therapy in CP has me ready for the journey home. I've a choice of rickshaw drivers, but choose one who has fewer teeth in his mouth than me and looks about 75 yrs old. His price is 80 rupees to base in Hauz Khas, but in a reversal of haggling I tell him he can have 100. After all he's smiling like I imagine I do at night! In fact he drives like a bat out of hell and dodges in and out of traffic like a retired formula one driver, until some cretin cut across our bows damaging his own car but not the rickshaw to any great extent as it was already battered!

Namaste from New Delhi

I hate tattoos!

Thus proclaimed a rather pompous woman from London who's now offended two of us, a career in the diplomatic corp is undoubtedly her forte. Actually she asked if I'd had it done, and when I said yes, the response was the headline of this. I pointed out that life was too short to use hate as an emotion but she prevaricated to reiterate her hatred for them. I took this opportunity to point out that I was unlikely to lose much sleep over her hatred of them since it was my arm it was decorating and not hers.

The same pompous woman had the temerity to tell Laiah in a very early conversation that she hated Israel, despite knowing that Laiah is Jewish! We're now convinced that she was stood up at the altar in her wedding dress by an Israeli tattooist, which can be the only logical explanation for her somewhat belligerant dislike of the country and my arm art work.

Still it is Friday and the weekend beckons, though no travelling for me! The heat is beginning to sap me physically, and by midday I'm not worth a brass farthing. I may go sight-seeing in Delhi this weekend as there are still places I haven't seen, and I should really as they're on the doorstep so to speak (well a rickshaw away!)

The morning started at Mother Teresa's with a mass with Father Julian coming in to do it. He's a nice guy and the day had started well, for the most part it went that way till near the end when I'd normally be leaving the hospice. Lunch at the hospice was behind schedule today and in the interim there was an incident which wouldn't have happened if they'd been eating as they'd normally be doing at that time. One of the stronger boys bit one of the weaker ones on the arm, breaking the skin on the kid. It all happened so quick no-one was near enough to stop it, but I was near enough to see it and dive in on top of him. Dinner was obviously not soon enough for his appetite. So much for a vegetarian diet!

Namaste for now.
p.s. A-M Cargill, Who's top of the league?? Your stay at the top on goal difference didn't last too long. C'mon the Hoops!

Penalty taking flops!

No I'm not referring to Tottenham Hotspur, even although they'd qualify for the description! I'm referring to myself and one of the hospice helpers, when we had a penalty shoot-out in the yard this morning. Neither of us could kick a barn door if we held the handle. I saved all of his and he saved all of mine, not that they were exactly rockets since it was a leather ball and we both had cheap sandals on! Other than that it was another good day at the hospice, which I'm enjoying more as each day passes.

Maybe enjoying is not the right word, but it is not as harrowing as I thought it would be on Monday. I still have to watch closely for any aggravation between the strong ones (and there are some who, whatever else they may have wrong with them are built like the proverbial brick "outhouses") and the weaker ones. The fact that they do stop whenever I whistle piercingly at them and shout "Nehi" in an authoritive voice seems to be enough.

The afternoon saw me at yet another tattooist, this time not in a van but in a beauty parlour of all places, for the two latest editions to the Tom Walker body art (?) collection. It took some time but they are done and look very good according to all who've seen them thus far.

One of the new arrivals this last weekend had taken to sleeping on our lounge floor since her room-mate snored too loudly for her to sleep. Since I start about two hours earlier than the rest I'm normally in the lounge for a coffee and a nicotine injection just after 6 a.m. This morning to my horror an enormous cockroach made it's way across the lounge floor, I tried to stamp on it but missed and it scurried under one of the settees. She asked me what that was, and I lied and said it was a wee ant. However, after I'd gone there was some shrieking which woke everyone else in the flat, as she undoubtedly saw the 2.5 inch long potential resident! His present state of life is as yet unknown, but I'm willing to bet that he's joined "Roland" in the big rubbish heap in the sky.

Namaste from a very hot Delhi (33 dec C)

Two more tattoos in the calendar

Yesterday I bought the guys at the hospice a football and today 6 of us went out for a bit of a lark in the yard where the animals are kept. Since most of them are physically disabled we decided that footie was out so we tried our hand at a form of volleyball. Neither of which sports are going to get us any recognition (myself included) by the sporting press and I include myself in that honourable discipline. Nonetheless, they enjoyed themselves and although I don't know how they do it, they managed to run about bare-footed on the stones! It was sore for me with sandals on (European wimp!).

Anyway it was a good day and although I was "cream crackered" at the end of it, I did enjoy being with them! Whenever I go in to their area in the morning at circa 7.25 a.m. they're all up and dressed with their beds stripped and ready for the wash, and the smile on their faces when I speak to them or address them as "Brigadier" gives you get a feeling of being wanted which is kind of soft I know, but really heart-warming.

Chinese for lunch at the base with two kinds of meat (chicken and lamb/goat), it says lamb on the board but I haven't seen too many sheep so I guess these may have had an identity crisis being called lambs when in fact they were goats!

I've got an address for a genuine tattoo parlour and went this afternoon to get another one maybe two depending on price. I fixed up a deal that I'm prepared to pay and the appointment is at 2.30 tomorrow afternoon! All that remains for today is to get another cut-throat shave (much against local advice but hey hoh when did I ever listen?), this time with a head massage thrown in for good measure. Such simple pleasures are indeed my lot in the absence of more constructive plans.

Namaste

"Sweeney Todd" takes on a new role in the hospice

For everyone concerned that I've taken up the use of a "cut-throat" razor with my shaky hands forget it! The guys at Mother Teresa's have more stubble than a spaghetti western, so I've put my old Braun razor to use having ensured I could charge it on site! I could, at least while the power was working! Thus equipped I've started giving the patients a shave, and those that have enough (and there's plenty of them) are all getting the sort of "Goatee" that I could only dream of.

It is going down well with the troops and the smiles on their faces at this menial bit of pampering is worth countless rupees. That aspect of the day is after the routine chores are out of the way though and first thing is sluicing down the floors to get rid of whatever! Then squee-geeing the excess down the drain. Next up is the hanging out on the roof, of the blankets and their "Dhobi/Clothes" All this domestic stuff takes up a couple of hours, then taking a couple of them for a walk either by hand or in one of the only two ancient wheelchairs the mens ward has.

Here is a paradox about India (of which paradoxes there are too many to count). The home when I'm up on the roof with their blankets being hung out, is situated next to a veritable mansion with an almost unsightly display of ostentatious wealth. On the one hand the Order is lucky to have had such generous benefactors, and for those who'll be here till their dying day (all of them I guess) it is a really nice place to be in were it not for the fact that there is a bunk room which must hold about thirty men. The same will be the case for the women on the opposite side of the corridor.

Sister Maria gives me a warning not to give them too many hugs as some of the guys are sexually aware and although it doesn't seem like a fair suggestion to ignore their need for contact, she assures me that my very being here is more than enough and that they're enjoying the change of face and language!

After my stint as a barber, the sisters and some of their helpers release a baby owl which we'd ended up with yesterday. It had been in the ward where the helpers sleep, in a sort of home- made cage with food and water to give it a break from whatever had been frightening it. This simple act again reinforces the kindness and generousity which is endemic in the order and is having an effect on my cynical old psyche, which can only be for the better I guess.

After my lunch duties as a boiled egg-placer on their plates with rice and spinach (which I tried to do with some nouvelle cuisine panache), it is time to head back to base and a fag as I'm gasping! As we pass the "Qutub Minar" on the dual carriageway there is a pachyderm with its trunk duly painted lumbering presumably to a wedding somewhere and a camel at the front and one bringing up the rear! I know I've seen it all before but it still amazes me when it happens.

Namaste!

Heaven & Hell in a weekend

The weekend has been organised to travel to Amritsar to see the "Golden Temple" and yes the roof is gold (approx 570kgs of it). However to get to the Temple we have to get up at what seems the middle of the night to catch the train for an 8 hour ride since we can't get on the Shatabdi Express, and the crowds (even at that ungodly hour) is amazing as they jostle each other to get onto whatever train they're catching. After what seems like version of the "Eton Wall Game" with thousands on each side we do get onto the train and settle down for the journey. We'd already bought provisions for the journey based on our colleagues experience on the previous weekend, thus avoiding "Delhi Belly" and having to use the toilets (?) on the train. In fact I had to use them for a cigarette break as there seemed to be no smoking permitted in the carriages, with that in mind I used the "Indian Style", figuring that the stench in there would overwhelm anything created by a Marlboro. The ploy worked and I was a relatively happy bunny during the 8 hours. During the journey there was a constant stream of vendors trying to sell Chai (Tea) or Fine Coffee and assorted foodstuffs which ranged from a "Bread Omelette" whatever that is? to sweets, chocolates buscuits etc etc;

When we eventually got to Amritsar it was on time and enough for us to go to drop our bags off, register (I didn't have my passport nor the visa, but bluffed my way with my free bus pass). It just didn't look like a passport but the clerk wasn't unduly concerned, being more concerned that since I'd a room to myself he'd half to charge me 800Rps (about a tenner).

That done we hired a taxi to take us to the border with Pakistan for the nightly pantomime of the changing of the guard. In fact it is quite a scene, with both sets of guards marching with steps that the "Tiller Girls" in their heyday would have been proud of! There is much tooing and froing between the sets of border guards but pasically anything the one side can do the other side can do with as much dramatic effect as the other. This includes shouting out the respective orders by the guard commander, the two men were giving it much "tenor" with the first command of "Guard" being drawn out till there was nothing left in their lungs (about 50 seconds).

Anyway the (Indian side was jam-packed and rather sadly the Pakistan side had roughly about a tenth of the number) which waqs somewhat sad as the whole thing is a metaphor for their respective countries antipathy for each other. You (as a neutral) just wished the opposite side of the border had been a bit fuller, if only because it looked a wee bit sad! If I'd anything to do with the other side I'd be bussing them there for nothing just to hold up my end of the panto!

Sunday a.m. We get up in darkness to walk the 500 metres or so to the entrance of the Golden Temple complex, so that we can view it in dawn's morning light! My shoes are deposited in a room specifically for that purpose, and I have to go barefoot and with a natty bandana tied covering my head via the feet washing trough which is constantly being cleaned out. Even at this early hour there's a queue of thousands to traverse the "bridge" to the temple itself. Men are stripping off to their Sikh underwear (1 Item of the 5 K's) and bathing in the enormous pool in which the temple stands. I couldn't help notice that there is enormous carp which also swim languidly beside them.

The noticeable feature (apart from the magnificent architecture) is the genuine spiritual devotion the Sikh's have. All of these people are not doing this to go through the motions, there is a dignified and devoutly religous feel about their every action. Laiah & Shanta went in the early afternoon to the "Silver Temple" which is Hindu, but my aching old bones have done enough this weekend and I'm "Cream Crackered", so I stroll round the perimeter of the Golden Temple's complex gardens and they're really beautiful and cool from the sun which now has my skin like a camel's, and since I'm breaking in the camel's teeth for him, it comes as no surprise that my skin is equally dried and wrinkled. I'm meeting the girls at the station at 4pm for the Shatabdi Express at 5pm back to Delhi so meander back to the station surprisingly easily considering I don't know where it is except in general terms.

There are open air barbers outside the station so another cut-throat razor shave is in order, it's only 10 rupees, but in the return for a new blade in the razor he gets the 30 I'm used to paying in Delhi. It's still a bargain. Because he's had a tip, he gives me a sparechair in the shade and a cup of "Chai". Whilst taking this piece of largesse on his part, there's a stooshie out by the main gate into the station.

It transpires that a couple of army men are shouting the odds (in civvies!) about police brutality towards them, and are succeeding in agitating the crowd who've gathered. No sooner done that Punjab's finest "Old Bill" appear and get stuck into them without much discussion, weilding canes that would bring tears to a glass eye should they catch your back! The Punjab "polis" don't take prisoners and they're all big laddies, this has the crowd and a nosey freshly shaven Scot in hasty retreat should they fail to realise who has the canes. The whole epsiode was over and done with in about 5 minutes except for the soldier being tended to by medics for some form of ringing in his ears (what a surprise when you've been clocked on the head by a five foot long split cane!)

The journey back to Delhi was duly completed on time at 11pm and we got back to the base at half past the hour. A big surprise for me was the fact that my new assignment at Mother Teresa's Home for the destitute and dying means I have to leave at 7am; so no time for any pussy-footing around with unpacking, it'll have to wait until morning or afternoon when I get back.

My first day at the home is something I don't feel like sharing on the internet, I'm working with them in the men's area. God love them there's about 40 guys in the area with a nun, a couple of helpers and me ! I have no medical experience, but Sister Maria (a young German nun) keeps me busy. She was also taken aback when I spoke to her in German. My role is just to help wherever I can and to sweep, squeegee, hug, talk and generally show the guys that I care and I do!

Enough already as Laiah would say with her Jewish humour, I can feel myself getting emotional just writing about their plight. They're all humans and this order treats them with dignity! The Mother Superior says I can use the chapel any time since I'm Catholic (she doesn't know about the lapsed bit), and I think I may do since it has all been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster; but I can and will keep with these guys since the look in their eyes makes you feel humble just being with them.

Namaste!

Tears for "souvenirs"

I didn't post yesterday as it was fairly innocuous except I ended up at an Orthopaedic Consultants with what turns out to be (according to the xray) severe arthritis in my shoulder, since everywhere else is riddled with it why worry? The pain-killers have numbed it anyway. Today though was my last day with the students, as there is to be a wholesale strategic rethink on how their programme is to be structured and there is nothing we can do to stop the march of progress (?).

Nonetheless we had a full turn out and a productive afternoon, punctuated with a farewell gift from the programme manager, group photos and hugs all round at the end of the afternoon. I cannot tell a lie there was genuine sadness on my part to parting with a group, that in a short time I've come to regard as friends. It did bring a welling up in my eye and voice as I bid them farewell. Laiah was there too since with my arm in a sling I couldn't write on the board.

Next week I'm going to work at "Mother Teresa's" for a month and in some respects this will be more of what I'd anticipated from voluntary work in Delhi. I'll be working with the men in the home for the destitute and dying, so I anticipate some emotional straining of the sinews.

Tomorrow Laiah, Shanta and I are going to Amritsar for the weekend, most of which will be on trains (packed to capacity I imagine), but the chance to see the famed temple is too much to miss out on.

Namaste.

The wind's getting up

Alas dear friends, it isn't a change in barometric pressure which causing this phenomona, rather it is the preponderance of pulses in my all too familiar diet of veggie food. To be eating Indian food 3 times a day is on one level a joy, on another it is a trial for an inveterate carnivore such as yours truly. In the spirit of honesty I can divulge that I'm enjoying the Indian version of "veggie food" better than any effort I've seen passed off in the UK. The downside is the effect all these vegetables are having on my digestive system.

There are fewer more embarrassing things than having to stifle the side effects of such a high dose of plant life, especially whilst in the company of sari clad, graceful women. I assume they have a similar problem since meat is non-existant in the Hindu diet, yet they manage to pass muster rather than wind. Anyway enough of the toilet humour!

Today was fairly innocuous especially after the bottom squeaking events of yesterdays drive to work! Laiah has a day off since her pupils are sitting Hindi exams so she gets to sample the delights of my work-place. My cover is well and truly blown now, since everyone else here works in appalling circumstances and mine is palatial! That said, the fact that she came to the class with me meant that the young men were suitably quiet, with only questions about how old was she and did she have a boy-friend? This prompted me to say that he was 6ft 5ins tall and weighed 14 stones, this figment of my imagination was enough to quell their post-pubescent queries.

The day went well and I did make them work for their corn so to speak. Embarrassingly my mobile phone went off in class (it was Alison). The upshot was that I had to stump up my fine, which I'd threatened to impose if anyone had a mobile phone switched on during lesson time. They were magnanimous in telling me not to, but the rule is the same for me as it is for them (except my fine is larger), and the deed was done! I may regret the vast sum of 19 rupees (nearly 25p), but the fine will bring us in some "Khana" tomorrow for our "Tiffin/Tea" break.

A wee observation; as I was coming through the alley to the office, I had to step round a tiny old woman (She must have been in her 80's), sitting cross legged on the concrete path and having a 40 wink break from watching her Grandkids. Her husband does a variety of wee jobs round about and he too must be nearer 90 than 70! My heart tells me to empty my wallet and let her get a break from her toils, but perhaps nearer the time when I'm coming home. Life can be hard sometimes, but the wee soul just made me think how lucky we are in Scotland to have a safety net which is conspicuous by it's absence here in "Mother India".

Namaste before I get too maudling!!

Where's my rosary beads when I need them!

Dear readers,
Verily my bottom was squeaking so tightly at lunchtime today, I swear that even WD40 wouldn't have helped! I was being driven to work in abnormally heavy traffic on the main road when we came to an almighty traffic jam, the like of which I'd not encountered even in Delhi! No big deal I hear you say; and normally you'd be right and I'd agree (having become yoga like in my approach to the vagaries of Delhi traffic).

The point of this was, that we were stuck in this jam next to a car that burst into flames. the initial flames were slightly alarming and our mini extinguisher wouldn't have dented the flames so to speak. These flames became an inferno in a matter of seconds (the car's occupants had done a runner by this time), and the first thing that crossed both Kewal and my minds simoultaneously but in different languages was "Shit what if the tank blows" as it had every potential for so doing. If it was a CNG car then it is just as bad, in either event I am beginning to feel very, very afraid with a vision of a loud bang and then infinity with my body parts and those of several hundred round about us being scattered over the flyover and underpass some 100 yards away.

The "frigging" traffic lights are at red still and the jam is not moving an inch! Despite everyone blasting their horns at the people in front, the punters who're crossing the road show no sign of letting us or anyone else through and now my rear end is the same temperature as the flaming car not 10 feet from my window. By now people are beginning to make a dart for it on foot or driving their cars up onto the pavement and barging all and sundry out of the road to get as far away as possible from the potential explosion, yet Kewal and I are stuck like a couple of turkeys with no exit and too close in anyones language.

As if by a message from some ancient Hindu god, whether Ganesh, Shiva or anyone else in the pantheon of Hindu gods, the lights change to green and we set off (everyone that is) like the start of the Le Mans 24 hour race to get as much distance between us and the raging inferno/potential bomb as quickly as humanly possible.

I'd calmed down to a frenzy by the time we got to the school, but in total frankness I'd had a scare which I could have done without and hope never to repeat. I didn't hear any explosion, so assume that either the fire brigade had got there (I doubt that with the volume of traffic) or that the tank was empty and the whole thing just burnt out. I'll know better tomorrow when I pass by again. The rest of the day was insignificant by comparison, so I'll brush over that.
Namaste from a very relieved part time teacher in Delhi.

Teacher's back on his own!

I have a late start from now on and that means a long lie in if I want! The reality is I still get up at the same time, and in any event the ladies are all doing Yoga in our living room at 6.30 a.m. I would have joined the class but hey hoh an old war wound (2 artificial knees) prevent my joining in. The women tell me they enjoy it and that it is doing them good. I'll take their word for it as the prospect of the "Lotus Position" on a marble floor has all the desirability of a Cactus enema.

I went to the centre this afternoon not knowing if I'd have any students since the time had been changed, but to my delight the first one in was the class stud Deepak, he's a really good looking young man who has the girls eating out of his hand, but every now and then you'll find him trying a flanker! Despite this I can't help but like him. He'd come in because he thought I'd be lonely if no-one came because of the time change (a possibility). Shortly thereafter, 3 of the girls also came in, one of whom is on a fast, as today is a special feast day for Shiva. Next thing another of the guys turned up. I'm really touched by this as it took effort on their part to do it! Such kindness is the norm in India and it is touching as I don't think it would happen in some of our schools.

I've decided to dive further into the Ganges and get myself a working Indian outfit with the long shirt, white cotton trousers and a waistcoat! If the suit is anything to go by then this will be pretty cheap, mind you where am I going to wear it in Stonehaven? Maybe when I go to the carry-out for a "Ruby Murray".

Going to breakfast this morning at the office, I was watched intently by a monkey which meandered out from one of the gardens, he was quite large and it leaves me thinking where does he doss down at night as we're in the city centre?

I forgot to mention that when I was at Gandhi's burial plot on Saturday as I stepped out of the rickshaw I almost stood in the basket in which a snake charmer had his cobra ready to perform for any unsuspecting balloon like me. The thought of destroying his source of income was bad enough, the thought that the cobra might have been slightly pee'd off with me standing on him is another matter altogether, anyway I moved to the left somewhat sharpish so as not to offend either party.

As a footnote for Ann-marie the blue nose with the right name but wrong team, the long shirt will be as near Emerald Green as I can get!!

Namaste Doste

Sunday is a good day for commercial deals!

Sunday morning and it is a lazy start again, I could get used to this way of life but I suspect someone very close to me might have something to say about it!

Erin and I spent the early part of the afternoon going to the Rashtrapati Bhavan, I'd been there last weekend but she has had so much college work to do she hasn't had much free time so it was fortuitous that I'd done it before as we got the main parts of the government part of the city done in a quick trip. We'd missed lunch so we pigged out on pepperoni pizza and coke when we got back.

Shanta took me to the guy in the market for a sim card with airtel telephone number and I also bought some airtime. This means I can call the UK for as little as 8 rupees a minute (infinitely less than BT), there was a certain amount of paperwork involved but that is to be expected in a country that was ruled by Britain as a colony for 200 years and who've grasped the civil service mentality whilst taking it to a whole new level! This good deal was compounded by my cut-throat shave and a shoe shine (which any sergeant major would have been pleased with!), the grand total of which is still the equivalent of $2. So even this far removed from contracts, I can't resist a good deal and today has been a commercial success.

The tented/tarpaulin village which had set up across the road from my barber has been moved on, I can't help but feel some sadness as where will they have landed up? The young kids who lived there may not know anything different from what they had, but they are humans not animals after all!

Namaste

Paying respects to Mahatma and being stroked on the chin by a "Trannie"

Saturday morning and the living is easy! A lie in with a leisurely read at the papers and omelette and toast with "Chai" to wash it down is the order of the day! It's going to be another scorcher (well for me at any rate!)

Fully fuelled for whatever I choose to do, my conscience gives me a dunt and reminds me that there is still so much else to see in Delhi and behaving like a sloth who's constipated is not the answer, so I jump in a rickshaw and head to Gandhi's burial spot. Not realising that the journey is likely to be anything like it turned out was a error of judgement on my part! It took all my patience (I know I don't have much but what I have got) not to get out the rickshaw and clock the policeman who held us up at a junction for 20 mins while he let all the rest of the main and side roads through. Still Mother India and all that! The ride was almost 2 hours and a chiropractor woud go down well now after the journey!

The plot itself is in a sunken garden with an eternal flame burning and the devotees passing by the tomb are dignified as you'd expect for someone for whom over a billion and a quarter people still regard as almost God like. No chance of any British politician being buried in such a fashion.

Next up I went to the Lodhi Gardens, described as the lungs of Delh and with the vehicles on the road no wonder they need so many parks. This one is about the size of all the parks in Aberdeen combined, still it was shady in parts and I'd now become the owner of a cricket hat to keep the sun at bay.

This is another wee step into some metamorphis on my part, eating veggie stuff, liking cricket and drinking chai. Disconcerting or what? Maybe I'm becoming the archetypal "Brown Englishman" the colonials were trying to make the Indians.

I've broken the journey home up by stopping off in Connaught Place for some Chinese food and a Kingfisher beer since I've missed lunch at the base. I think the real reason I needed the beer was that on the way to Connaught Place a "Trannie" leant into the rickshaw and stroked my chin departing back along the line before he could interpret the words "Feck Off" and get a shave! The driver was bemused by this and to a certain extent I was too since, in all my 62 years I've never been approached by anyone gay, much less a man in a sari.
p.s. that is not a plea for any gay attention in case there is any doubt.

This kaleidescope of senses in Delhi continues to fascinate me, despite the obvious signs of poverty and begging which I have to force myself to turn a "Nelson's eye" to.

Namaste from Delhi

Bubbling as Barbs bows out

There were some wet eyes this morning in the class as Barbara bowed out of her assignment. The kids had got her a cake with a candle on it, and some pepsi and lemonade with crisps etc; and we cut the lesson short so that we could all gather in the classroom and they could say farewell. They'd also bought her some presents and it was a wee bit emotional. The assistant Director also went out and bought her a gift which was really nice as they haven't really seen eye to eye! Photographs with mobile phones were the order of the day and two with a proper camera for posterity.

There is a mini-crisis for my ongoing placement at the Habitat Learning Centre, in that they want me to change my times of work there to the afternoon. For me this is no big deal but it does mean that the kids I've had each day, may not get there in the afternoon and that is a pity! It does mean that I may get a whole new or part new bunch and have to start from scratch. That is a bit frustrating but I'm only the unpaid hired help, and the progress Barbs and I have made with our group may well stagnate. I hope not for their sakes, as they'd warm your heart with their attitude and happy faces (even a cynical old prat like me!).

As she flies out tonight at midnight for a 20 hour flight back to Detroit with a 6 hour stopover in New York it is going to be a long day/night for her!

So farewell to her and I hope she enjoys her new life in Orlando where she's going to work for the Disney corporation! She's worked with a clown for a fortnight so Mickey Mouse should be a doddle!

For me it is a relatively quiet weekend in Delhi again, and the girls are organised for the movies etc. Next weekend will be enough as we have a train journey of 8 hours to do, and I'll have a better description of the train and it's facilities (?) after it, certainly if the buses are anything to go by, it will be an eye opener.

I've had to get my daughters Fe & Pe to send a stroppy message to BT (how unlike me to pen something sarcastic and stroppy to a contractor?) as the plonkers have disconnected my mobile phone, as the usage seems high to them! Why did I bother telling them I was coming out here, if they're not going to pay any attention to it and cut me off? It's left me a bit isolated pro tempore but if it isn't back on in 24 hours then they'll have broken their side of the contract and I've no compunction in getting someone else, and indeed it appears I can get a fairly cheap mobile here after all and pay up front for air-time with inbound calls free with Air Tel of India.

Namaste

Scotrail eat your heart out

Today is Barbara's 2nd last day as she goes back to Detroit tomorrow night. She's been a big help and in some respects I'll miss her help and advice. In the afternoon she and I went to a golf driving range and knocked a couple of buckets of balls and with the hire of a driver it came to almost 2$, such extravagence!
As an aside when we were being driven back from the Habitat learning centre we had to overtake two camels and two elephants at lunchtime, in fact they were making better progress than the cars.

Last night the girls and I were organising a couple of trips! One to Goa in March (towards the end of month) and to Amritsar to the Golden Temple in a weeks time. The girls (having the technical ability, booked and paid for the flights online). The train was another matter, and the trains this weekend are sold out with a waiting list of too many to contemplate. The only answer is for me to go down to the station myself and see what can be done about the following weekend. Being me I decide to avoid the "tourist" booth in the main station and go with the Sikh driver to the Indian ticket office, it was a hoot! The place was heaving to the gills with Indian guys and a single solitary pale face (but he did have a sense of humour and a tattoo with Mother India in Sanskrit on his upper arm), this latter aspect was enough to get by and eventually I got 3 returns (not in the class I'd have liked for me and the girls Laiah and Shanta), and the train we are booked on takes and hour more than the express we'd wanted for the outbound journey, on the plus side we are booked on the express on the return journey. I bet Scotrail would sell their souls for the queues and waiting lists for every seat on their trains!

Shanta has booked us a hotel room at 450 rupees each a night (9$) and it has a rooftop restaurant with cushions outside on the roof and a view of the Golden Temple! The older women would have a heart attack if they thought they had to pay less than 120$. As an aside the "Trout with the Pout" is leaving and has given bad feedback which the rest of us are quite taken aback, since we are all really entering into the way of life of Delhi.

Namaste from 30 deg C and wall to wall sunshine.

A Dandy steps out

Yesterday was pretty mundane, some of us went to the museum in the company of the former head of the Indian Museum, and he was really interesting, as was the exhibits I saw! I didn't see too many as I took a bit of a cold sweat which was slightly disconcerting and had to leave to get some heat into me. When we got back to base I couldn't eat anything and went straight to bed which ended up with 12 hours sleep. It must have done the trick as I was up in time and ready to go this morning with no after-effects.

Class this morning got a wee bit (?) chatty especially when one of them was trying to read from and write on the board. I did an impression of someone who was really angry with this show of disrespect for their class-mate and it seemed to have the desired effect, resulting in a hush which was defeaning in it's silence. That may have been a watershed since I hope not to have to do it too often as I can't do anger at kids too well.

I went back to the tailor's to pick up my new hand made suit and even if I do say so myself (and I do!), I look like the Dog's "*&^4@*&"s it is hard to comprehend that this suit costs the equivalent of two quality shirts in Aberdeen, but that is the cost of things here apparently! Except for mobile phones it would appear. I'd toyed with the idea of buying one of the newer versions and just using my sim card, thinking that since everything else was relatively inexpensive they'd be too! Wrong, it appears that to get a reasonably expensive model you take out a bank loan here, it is the calls which are cheap. Fiendishly clever these phone manufacturers, the calls are cheap but the phone costs you an arm and a leg.

Namaste

I'm not old enough to have hairs in my ears

Back at work as it is Monday, Cindy has come back from Rishikesh in the mountains but obviously ate something on the train which makes me think about eating the food which comes with the ticket, as she's got the dreaded "Delhi Belly".

A bit short on students today as there's only 6 of them when there's normally 11, however the 6 who are here are pretty godd in any event and we've set them some harder work.

I noticed a guy on his motorcycle this morning cleaning his toes while doing about 50mph, never mind the safety wear, the idea of cleaning between your toes is gross anyway and to do it while driving a motorbike is madness. But hey hoh this is Delhi and HSE matters don't seem to matter a jot.

We had to do our tasks in front of the rest of the volunteers today, but Laiah and I seemed to be the only ones doing any ad-libbing, the rest reading off of their paper print outs from the web. I couldn't get too excited about the whole thing as it was designed to see if we were taking in the culture, and not an entry thesis for Oxford or Cambridge.

I went to my roadside barber under the tree in the street again, despite some of the staff being concerned about an infection if he cut me inadvertently! He's good at it and although I think they're probably right I decide he's good enough for the Indians so he's good enough for me! He doesn't speak any English at all and my Hindi is limited but we manage to get by in any event. It transpires that some tosser from the Middle East has given him Omani notes which is a bit of a liberty as he won't even have a bank account much less the wherewithal to change them. I offered to buy them from him for 100 rupees inclusive of the shave, but the lack of ability in language put the mockers on that !!

He's giving me better service every time as I'm paying him 30 rupees instead of the 20 he'd normally get, and this prompts him to trim my ears as well as my hooter! I'd no idea that I had any hair in either orifice, but hell he must have seen some. His eyesight is obviously far superior to mine.

A wander round the market is always a hoot and I take a wee dander to see if there are any good offers on sandals, passing the tailors who're making my Nehru suit! Thank god I picked them as I noticed another firm of tailors called, wait for it! "Gaylook" Thanks be to God I didn't stumble in there by mistake! I may be in touch with my feminine side but that is a bridge too far!
Namaste

A "Singing Sikh" and "3 Transvestites"

Last night the girls and I had a superb Chinese meal in Connaught Place at a restaurant called Zen. The food was super and my street credibility was on an upward trajectory so far as the Indian guys were concerned as I was in the company of 4 beautiful young girls. The fact that I'm almost old enough to be their Grandad didn't seem to catch on with the guys. I'll let their minds keep that thought though!

Sunday morning and after a lazy coffee and a swatch at the Sunday papers plus the usual quota of nicotine I decide to get cleaned up and head out to the city centre again and see some more of the sights!

I hail a rickshaw for another spine shattering, but ultimately practical ride into "Old Delhi" having picked the Red Fort to start with. Old Delhi is if anything, even more densely habitated than New Delhi, and I have to admit the overwhelming odour of sewage and other waste allied to being jammed tightly between other vehicles all trying to the general area of "Kashmiri Gate", is affecting the Long Island Ice Teas I had last night in Zen. But enough of my digestive tracts, between the driver and I we decide that enough is enough and we about face and head back to the Red Fort.

The Red Fort is an impressive edifice, but nowhere close to the one in Agra! I suspect due to the number of people who visit it en masse at the weekends. Whole families are using the gardens (?) as picnic areas and as a result the Fort has seen better days. Still though it is worth a visit, but wouldn't be top of my must see places in Mother India.

The fact that it is very large in area means I'm hungry (no breakfast per se), by the time I get round, so in typical "Walker fashion" I go in with the locals to their cafe area and although somewhat pale by comparison, I'm fully accepted by them and not stared at by the locals. The other big plus is the fact that the locals have cheaper rates for everything, so my token lunch (it's that time already) is less than $2.

My tattoo and the limited Hindi I now have is enough to ensure I'm not as bothered as some of the other nationals who're thronging the site! On that basis I decided to walk a bit before getting another rickshaw to Connaught Place, as I know I'll be able to use a loo there and I'm not going so native as to pee in the street(a fairly common sight).

Whilst we're struggling through the traffic we come to a grinding halt in a jam, only to be assailed (as others were too!) by a group of transvestites demanding money for them not to curse you. I've seen this on Paul Mertons visit to India so the 6ft 2in sari wearing man with a couple of days stubble can take a hike, as can his mates who're equally ugly, even for men. Her (?) curse aside I should have offered him/her a loan of my electric razor as he/she is in dire need of it. I'll need to watch that none of my appendages drop off as a result of the curse.

Connaught Place is where we were last night at the restaurant so I'm totally familiar with it and as such can wander at leisure, stopping for a cheese sandwich in something like Harrods or should it be Horrids from "Still Game". The process for buying something as cheap (?) as cheese sandwich is convoluted to say the least involving 3 separate paper transactions, (no wonder the Amazonian rainforest is in danger). I'm tackled by a shoeshine man offering to make my shoes shine like leather, that would be fine if I wasn't wearing suede shoes!

From yesterday I'm stopped by the same guy asking if I want my ears unwaxed, I reminded him we'd met yesterday and he's asked me then. The intervening 24 hours had not seen an undue build up of wax in my "wing nuts" so his kind offer of a very cheap job was rejected.

To cap off my day I'm taken back in quick order to Hauz Khas by a singing Sikh rickshaw driver, in the absence of anything other than noise polution and honking horns it makes a nice change, so he got a tip for his efforts and he had me back at the apartments in enough time to avoid the inevitable accident I'd have had if we'd been caught in traffic!

It's old firm day today so "C'mon the Hoops" and namaste from Delhi.

Sean, What odds on this happening?

My sight-seeing tour of Delhi starts with the rickshaw ride to the India Gate a 1st World War memorial for less than a dollar. The journey takes about an half hour and although comfortable isn't a word I'd use to describe the ride in a rickshaw, it does the job since it can weave in and out of the traffic like someone (other than John Sargeant) on "Celebrity Come Dancing"!

Next I head to Houmayun's Tomb where out of a Delhi population of almost 14 million, my name is called out as I go through the turnstyle (having paid full whack despite saying in Hindi that I'm Indian), the locals get in for 4% of the cost of foreigners. It's Barbara from Detroit, and she too is doing her own thing this weekend. However, she's staying in hotels and getting pampered too. The odds of meeting someone you know with that size of population must be pretty high.

Next stop on this mini weekend break since Amritsar was cancelled, is the Rhashtrapati Bhavan or parliament buildings and the President's official residence! All of which are down the road from where I'd started (India Gate), but the road is about a couple of Kms long and my knees feel as though they're due to sieze! With a combination of my knees and my stomach thinking my throat has been cut, I decide to call it a day with a portion of meat to be washed down with a large coke (such simple pleasures are all I need just now!)

Another rickshaw back to the area we live in and the driver is trying his hardest to get me into an emporium on the way back. Thanks but no thanks I tell him as I'm totally dog tired and just need to get back to base! He's a nice guy so I give him the 20 rupee tip as opposed his lost commission!

Namaste

The Vodka's not for my consumption you prat!!

Just a fairly routine day on Thursday, the teaching went reasonably well and the girls and I had an invite for drinks and snacks at the house next door to their apartment While down at the market in the afternoon, I was tempted by an offer on shirts;

Buy one get two free and a free gift.

As you all know I have an inexplicable penchant for shirts so found resistance futile, the free gift turned out to be a leather belt. I couldn't have bought the belt in Markies for the price of the whole deal, so you've guessed it, I now have another 3 shirts.

Since the girls and I were going for drinks to Mr Yethandra Jafa and his wife Mamta's in the evening I also bought a bottle for them. I didn't try to hide it since it was a gift for them not for my consumption! You'd have thought I tried to kill a cow from the reaction of one of the deputies. This did annoy me as I'm not a child and know the rules with regards to alcohol in the flats. If I had intended drinking in a corner quietly, I sure as hell wouldn't have left it on the dining room table in front of all and sundry. Somewhat chastened by the verbal assault he got about treating people like adults (since the Boss knew I was doing it), everything is back on an even keel today (Friday)

The trip to Amritsar is cancelled since we can't get seats on the train, so since the matronly types are off elsewhere (to 4 star hotels) this means there are only a few of us left in the flats. This will mean we can go out on the town for a bit of sight seeing (and there is plenty to see in Delhi), and get a fancy meal somewhere in the posh end of town. Shit I may even have a vodka or three!

Yesterday while having my now bi-daily shave with a cut-throat razor, a guy who was totally out of his box on whatever, started giving the barber a hard time about something which I couldn't make out since the whole thing was conducted in Hindi, but I did hear the word Police and the barber pointing to me. I'm guessing he told the balooka I was a chief constable or something suitably impressive, as the potential blackguard backed off calling me officer. The truth is I wouldn't have clocked him anyway as he was totally out of his skull and had a wee kid in tow (who started crying because his father was a moron). They'd come from the tents (made from tarpaulin) across the road and if I had to live there I guess I too might have been legless!

Delhi is a kaleidescope of noise, traffic, dusty streets and the occasional elephant, and has a population more than 3 times the whole of Scotland. Your senses are put through a high speed mixer every day and by the time we finish dinner in the evening there isn't really much you either can or want to do! Last night though was a very pleasant interlude with company outside the volunteers (except the girls and they are refreshingly good company) in another house!

I can't believe it is a quarter way through my period here already, but it is and Barbara leaves next week so I'll be back on my own with the students and will have to do more preparation for lessons than the winging style I'd thought would get me by!

Namaste

The Cox & Kings tour part II

Three of the mature American/Canadian/English women are planning to visit Jaipur this weekend and you can't help overhear the organising since it is done at the dinner table. It sounds like another Cox & Kings tour in terms of expense with 6,000 rupee ($120) taxis and hotel rooms to match! I'm not a gambler, but I'm willing to bet the kids and I get the whole weekend cheaper in Amritsar than their hotel for one night and we've a 6hr train journey each way with 2 nights hotel to boot.

We're going to see the Golden Temple and then go up to the border with Pakistan to see the changing of the guard, leaving on Friday afternoon and returning on Sunday evening.

Everyone is out this afternoon at a festival and craft fair, but since I need some WD40 on my knee joints, I elected to go to the local market and get measured for a tailor made suit (like Nehru's) the whole thing is costing me less than the taxi the women will pay for, so I get a suit for round about 80 GBP.

Last night we had a thunderstorm which was the mother of all thunderstorms and rain to match, even in Nigeria this would have been a talking point. Some of the females slept through it, but initially I thought the equipment working on the Delhi Metro system close by had collapsed the noise was so loud.

Barbara surprised even me in the class today as she's bought the successful student a watch and a belt for his success and had written him a congratulatory card. What's the odds on some more having a job interview before she leaves?

Sorry to hear your weather is so crap, but if it's any consolation my tan is coming along nicely! Namaste!

The boy done good!

Our young student who had the interview for a job yesterday has been successful, and everyone in the class is delighted for him! Although in one respect I'll be sorry that he's leaving, as he is (as they all are!) a charming young man with a reasonable command of English.

Barbara set them all homework which made them do complete sentences using various synonyms. They had to use at least 12, and if they didn't hand it in after this last weekend I'd said they had to do 24 by the next day. Needless to say they had all accomplished their targets by this morning. (Rotten teacher!!) On the plus side they've all started to come in early which the Director is overwhelmed with.

In case we forget how hard the Indians work, Guldeep is earning about $200 a month for working 8 hours a day, 6 days a week selling lap-top computers for Samsung.

In the afternoon all the females went out to see temples/mosques. Hindu, Sikh and Muslem respectively, I ended up doing some shopping for good quality notebooks for these students, and at Barbara's insistence some cookies! She can't get the giving part out of her head (Bless her!), but in reality it isn't helpful for future volunteers as the staff at CCS had made so clear at the outset.

Random memories omitted from earlier posts;

• 5 people on a motorcycle
• motorised rickshaws with up to 7 people crammed inside
• no sign of road rage by anyone, in traffic that defies description
• camel driven carts in Agra
• more Royal Enfield motorcycles than you can shake a stick at
• generosity/kindness when you have little or nothing
• lorries whose load looks anything but secure
• monkeys galore in Agra & Fatehpur Sikri (one though an unfortunate victim of the roads)
• every meal being like going to an Indian restaurant with mates (well half of them!)
• the dhobi-wallah (laundryman) has to put hot cinders into his iron to work it, and he does this with his bare hands, since he has no electric iron for his ironing

This coming weekend the youngsters are going to Amritsar to see the Golden Temple (The Sikh equivalent of the Vatican), so I'm off with them! The others seem to be planning a visit to another hotel, in Delhi this time. Why put in for this volunteering if you can't let a weekend go without some form of luxury?

We've all been divided into teams and have a topic each relating to Indian culture, which we have to give a talk on next Monday. Our teams topic is #Dowries and arranged marriages#. On the topic of female emancipation (?) there's been a big stooshie in the papers for the last 3 weeks as a group of religious males took it upon themselves to beat up some women who'd gone to the pub in Mangalore! The women concerned weren't even single fished! What chance of this in Union Street?