“A bit like British builders then”

Off to explore Shimla proper.

We have a local guide, a young guy who used to be a climbing instructor/guide but decided to take up tour guiding as he thought if no-one told people about the history, it would just be forgotten.

As we’re walking along we’re looking at all the houses built several stories high on the side of the mountains. When he starts mentioning how this is a high risk earthquake zone and there have been many big quakes in the past, we ask if there has ever been any serious damage with houses falling down.

He says no as apparently when they have a quake, they pray and then nothing collapses.

Reassured, I make sure I’m not standing under anything for the rest of the day.

Where Eagles Dare

Finally we arrive at our destination – Wildflower Hall.

It’s a grand old hotel which used to be Lord Kitcheners residence. It even has an infinity hot tub perched on the side of the mountain (which I guess was added after the old guy lived there). Everything about it is exceptional, but the high point for Memsahib is when the chef comes out at dinner to inform us that the menu is more of a guideline than a set list and he’s happy to make anything we want – I resist the temptation to ask “Like Burger King?”

Mr Kapur then spends the post dinner digestive session attempting to set a new record for the number of logs fetched and burnt in a single evening. “More logs, more logs” – the cry rings into the night way past the point we retire, having secured all windows as warned against Miss Julias nemesis – monkeys.

“Take your stinking paws off me, you damn dirty ape”

We’re heading up to Shimla with Miss Julia. This is a fun trip for several reasons.

First we fly to Chandigar. As I enter Delhi domestic airport, the check in clerk looks at my Australian passport and makes a face which I understand to mean “boy, have we just stuffed you at the cricket big time”.

Then when we land, we still have a 5 hour drive up some winding mountain roads with Mr Kapur (Memsahib’s #2) as the pace car. Rishi does his best to keep up which necessitates some overtaking on the outside of people who are already overtaking. Nail biting, stomach churning stuff and we have to take a few breaks to let our internals settle down.

During a break for lunch a local monkey attempts to steal Miss Julias handbag. Their bag snatching would have worked if it wasn’t for those pesky drivers who raise the alarm and scare them off. Temporarily at least, as they then turn and starts hissing at us and advancing which prompts everyone to dive into the cars and secure the windows.

After the drama of the primate crime spree, we’re back on the road. Suddenly lunch seems to be a badly thought out action. Mr Kapur may be a man who appreciates the finer things in life, but he has missing his calling as a Delhite taxi driver.

“Sir and Brad Pitt – not so much”

Our driver Rishi is a man who knows what side his chapatti is buttered on.

As he is driving Madam, Miss Julia and Sir onto another purchasing expedition, Miss Julia asks him about his previous employment. Before becoming a contracted driver for B.T., Rishi used to be a driver for the Sheraton and his previous human packages put any London cabbies stories of “I had that in the back of my cab” firmly in the shade.

He has carried Bill Clinton, a man with his finger firmly on the (intern) trigger. He has carried Robert De Niro (and when you’ve dated Naomi Campbell, Delhi traffic holds no fear for you). But the cherry on the cake is he has driven Angelina Jolie. And then he utters the words that ensures large tips for the rest of his employment with us

“But Madam is much lovelier”

"Well, it's one louder, isn't it?" - Nigel Tufnel

The visitors have started rolling in.

I (Memsahib is still in Sydney for a conference) had Anita and Pete for a flying one day stop yesterday on their way to Calcutta.

Next in the pipeline is Julia. To say she’s excited is an understatement of legendary proportions. She’s only been here for a day and the driver has already started referring to her as “the talking machine”. She’s loving all of it and running around like a big toddler trying everything.

Her shopping excursions are a wonder to witness when you’re a man who views places that sell things like cushions as citadels of non-functionality. My favourite game is asking “but what’s it for” and consistently being told “you just don’t get it”. Which is, I understand, what a lot of cults say to outsiders.

“You’re gonna need a bigger plate”

Time for another food photo. This is what you get when you order spaghetti with prawns in our favourite Italian restaurant in Delhi.

You can see the gears whirring...

We're now in Singapore. Which really has very little exciting about it except for our friends and their baby daughter. Who is very personable and quite good at mimicking the blank look of the person looking at her.

We’ve shot through

We manage to leave Australia just before Sheila develops a twang

One of the few holiday photos I liked.

Highlights for Sheila were experiencing the local culinary delights of Dim Sims, potato cakes and Chiko rolls (only the finest Australia has to offer for the Sheila); watching the tearful reunion of mother and son (I cried, but only because the DNA tests proved parentage) and actually hearing at least two Australians use the phrase “Fair Dinkum” in a non-ironic manner.

Highlights for Bruce were the departure lounges of Melbourne and Sydney airports respectively.

“It never strikes twice, so you stand outside first”

I turn on the laptop in the hotel room in Melbourne and there’s a headline – “Siege still ongoing in Mumbai” with all kinds of not very nice looking pictures of general chaos. Trying not to panic the Sheila I turn on BBC World News and get more of the same. As we’re both sitting there watching it all (having slept through the first ten hours) we both decide that we’re still keen continue staying in India. The grab hand of Fate plucks you out when it will so no sense in worrying. Besides, this puts it all in perspective.

You can't go home again

We arrive in Melbourne.

After Sheila not getting any better we call the hotel doctor who naturally blames it on something she must have picked up in Delhi. We don’t care as he hands over s script for something stronger. Much, much stronger. Whatever it is, it takes the nasty gastrointestinal beasties in hand and slaps them about hard. Which is good as it means she’s well enough just in time for the road trip - the maternal road trip. The fun never stops.

But first we do the family catch-ups. Mother, Sister + her husband, Grandfather, Uncle + Aunt.

It’s good to see them all over the next few days. My sister does a one woman marketing effort on behalf of Melbourne telling me how it’s really developed in the last few years. “Do they have an Opera House yet?” I ask. That shuts her up. The weather holds up reasonably well after the flash flood rain of Sydney, It all goes swimmingly, even my Uncles really atrocious jokes which haven’t gotten any better in 20 years (which is good as I had promised Sheila they were bad).

We even manage to see on old friend of mine who is now shockingly a mother with a grown up job and everything. Luckily she brings her husband and daughters along to dinner where I get the chance to tell her young girls about their mothers’ days in the circus as the low clown on the totem pole (meaning she was the last one out of the tiny car and got hand-me-down putty for her nose). It’s good for them to know these things. They are the future after all.

Just drive she said

We set off down to Melbourne with Sheila violently ill after eating in Sydney’s finest restaurant and having to drive two days down a scenic coastal road packed full of Imodium. The wide open spaces and beading of small towns along the way were the same as I remembered from childhood Christmas holidays. It’s nice to know a new generation will have the opportunity to suffer the same character building process of a fortnight of 35 degrees in the shade boredom.

After stopping overnight in Eden, Sheila started getting very excited about viewing the Melbourne Opera House and Melbourne Harbour Bridge after I’d told her so much about them.

Sometimes it’s hard to shatter those dreams.

Strewth!

So we’ve done the family visit/trip down under. It was full of "wonderful" adventures. On first landing in Sydney after having cleared immigration (the only time in my life when I go native and the Sheila endures the foreigners desk – cue much “But you’re all convicts, why are you checking me?”) we then proceeded to get lost heading to our first port of call – Dr. Rahuls. This was even with a SatNav and Sheilas helpful advice to “turn it upside down as we’re in the southern hemisphere”.

Eventually we got there and after a short rest and catch-up with little Oliver (the brains of the outfit) we then set off to explore the finest Sydney has to offer. Sadly we missed out on any chance of seeing Dr. Rahuls place of work a.k.a “The Love Shack”. Still it was probably for the best, nobody wants tourists with cameras in the middle of a ObGyn session – although I’m sure Dr. Rahul would be great at pointing out places of interest.

The puppy ate my blog

I know I’ve been a tad lax in updating this but I have a good excuse. Actually I have several but Memsahib says none of them are believable and this is the best of a bad lot. Two of the local dogs round our way have had puppies. Very, very cute puppies. They sleep in a nearby culvert and the local guards keep an eye on them.

The big question I have is how two dogs with predominately orange colouring have produced such a doggy rainbow. I mean look at them - chocolate brown, tan, black, black and white, and even grey. Maybe the female dog has some explaining to do.

Anyway I have been so overwhelmed with the cuteness of them that I have neglected all my duties. But now I’m back on track. Clean and sober. Ready for a second chance. (Is this the bit where I mention letting God come into my life?). I’m all geared up to shovel a backload of updates into the maw of you the audience over the next day to bring us all back up to date together. But first I just need to go pat the puppies…

Dodged that bullet

We’re back in Delhi for a few days before heading onto Australia for a overdue obligatory family visit.

When we flew back the in-flight entertainment system was playing up and at first they tried restarting it several times (ground engineers advice apparently - "have you tried turning it off and on").

I was expecting to hear the call "Is there an IT consultant on the plane" but sadly the opportunity for glory never arose.

I went to sleep and when I woke up all the screens were playing the closing scene from "Mama Mia" - Memsahib explained that they'd jury-rigged the system to show everyone the same single film - whether you wanted it or not. I have never been so happy to sleep in my life.

Dr Strangelove lives next door

We had Diwali happen around us a few weeks ago and now we've returned for a London visit just in time for Bonfire Night. Ignoring the underlying reasons for either event and simply comparing fire-power, leads me to believe that pyrotechnic yield is another area where the Asian Tiger is kicking the U.K. Lion. I strongly suspect the only reason India even developed nuclear weapons is because somebody had to one-up his next door neighbour and his paper wrapped barrels of gunpowder they call crackers in the shops here.