The plan was to fly to India, buy a new Enfield, and ride it back, holding tea parties along the way. But that changed when Rob, the dad of one of Theo’s mates, invited me to the Adventure Travel Film Festival – where I was smitten by motocross. Now an old Suzuki scrambler, that just qualifies as…
An idea is brewing, to once again fly to India, and ride back to the UK, perhaps this time accompanied.
I recently helped with a show comprising a slapstick version of King Kong performed by The Smallest Theatre in the World, Bhangra drumming and a story about an ordinary child.
Rishikesh, yoga capital of the world, is expecting a once every six year influx of people in the next couple of days: the Kumbh Mela.
I think the “Hotel All Seasons” in Roorkee is about an hour from Haridwar and the Ganges. So tomorrow I’m looking forward to a shorter pummelling of the A’ bone, before Rishikesh.
After an amiable breakfast I set out for the third side of the golden triangle: Jaipur to Delhi, with a detour to the marvellous Amber fort.