In the absence of roads in the Keralan Backwaters all haulage is by lake or canal and with profit margins thinner than the locals, overloading is the norm. These two are shifting sand for construction with a freeboard that would have Samuel Plimsoll turning in his grave. Nifty bailing with a handy saucepan is the only way to prevent sinking from the wake of passing rice barges which is maybe why the skipper’s taken up smoking.

After shooting a feature at Calcutta’s Future Hope School which rescues street children from Hell-on-Earth slums, we felt ready for R&R in Pondicherry, staying at a colonial gem in the French Quarter described in its brochure as ‘a hotel that never ceases to surprise,’ a claim born out as we entered Room 15 when a rat ran past our feet, under the bed and into the bathroom, causing Alex to immediately down her remaining Gynergene tablet, preciously reserved for severe migraines or rodent sightings, while I had to settle for a stiff lime and soda to aid recovery – being dry for nearly a year now, this proved the greatest test of resolve to date.
Once Alex’s eyeballs re-aligned and a new room was found free of wildlife we dined alfresco and, mindful of the Basil Fawlty episode, I suggested we skip the Cheese Platter lest opening the savoury biscuit tin produced a second sighting.