Our garden cottage is very comfortable, especially the bed so we both slept well. I woke up early (as is my normal) so I was able to head to the yoga hut for 7am yoga (Micheal stayed in bed snoozing). I do occasional yoga at home using Apple Fitness, but to be honest, I’ve not done it for a while (life is too busy). I had thought I might do it every day in India, but our busy schedule means today is the first opportunity I’ve had.

I arrived at the yoga hut almost bang on 7am. It was already almost full – I counted that there were 16 of us in total. Everyone else was already sat on their mats waiting, the yoga teacher hadn’t arrived yet. I was looking around to see where the mats were, but I couldn’t see for looking. One women realised what I was looking for and indicated with her head to the hooks just under the eaves of the straw roof where the rolled up mats were stored. I took one and set it out in one of the few spaces left.

The yoga teacher arrived shortly after. He must have been about the same age as me, but boy, was he flexible! If only I were half as flexible as him! He clearly knew his audience though, as he didn’t really do anything too taxing until the final few moves. There was a lot of stretching, just what i needed after yesterday’s long drive. One of the moves was focussed on stretching our hamstrings and involved six people at a time spaced around a chest of drawers he’d pulled into the centre of the room. One leg at a time we had to stand sideways onto the drawers and lift our leg onto the draws, foot facing up, then stretch our hands up and lean over towards the foot on the draws, repeating several times while taking a deep inhail of breath and then slowly breathing out. We then repeated with the other leg.

The final move was the hardest. Sitting on the mat sideways with our front leg folded up with our foot tucked into our crotch. The back leg slightly bent and our front hand slightly forward but in line with our back leg. We then had to hold our front leg toe with our back hand, and in a sort of sideways ‘plane style’ take off, elevated off the floor with our front hand and back foot still on the floor. If holding that wasn’t hard enough, we then had to extend the leg while our other hand was still holding the toe. My legs are very long so there was no way I was going to extend it fully, but I did my best, while still balancing on my hand and foot. When the yoga teacher demonstrated it, everyone laughed in a ‘you really expect me to do that?’ expression. It was me and the only other guy in the session who actually managed to do it first and we had had a ‘good, well done’ from the teacher!

The whole session lasted an hour and ended with the usual relaxation and Savasana chant. It was another ‘pinch myself’ moment to think I was doing yoga in India, in a straw thatched hut, with open sides (apart from mesh to keep the mosquito at bay). All we could hear was the wildlife and the sound of the waves crashing onto the beach in the background. The white birds just pottering around outside – magical. I just need to persuade Mike to get up and have a go tomorrow.  

I know that it has been said before, but it should said again, my husband has many similar characteristics to my father – or as us sometimes remarked, I married my father! Not least is his pleasure in seeing a steam train (utterly baffling to me). He was in for a treat today as we made a last minute plan to catch the miniature ‘blue toy train’ from Ooty to Mettupalayam where we’d be picked up for our onward journey to Kerala by Vaishakh. Sadly, it was not to be.

When I was planning our holiday I didn’t think we’d have time to travel on the miniature blue train while we were here so I’d not booked ahead (all our other train journeys have been booked months in advance). Unlike the UK where you can just turn up and get on a train (even if it means standing as it often does), here reservations are necessary if you want to guarantee a ticket, especially on the miniature train where capacity is limited.

Vaishakh picked us up early from our hotel, just after 7 to get us to the station to join the queue for limited on the day tickets that went on sale at 8am. He was slightly delayed as he came across someone in the road who’d been his by a bison! He drove them to a nearby hospital to be checked before picking us up. Bison attacks are not something we have to worry about in the UK thankfully. They are big strong beasts so you wouldn’t want to get into a fight with one. There are lots of signs warning drivers to go slow to be aware of wildlife crossing, but if you’re on foot (as this guy was) and an angry bison crosses your path, you’re in trouble. Thankfully Vaishakh thinks he’ll be ok, and will only have bruises – but safer to be checked out.

When we got to the station at Ooty there was already quite a queue but Vaishakh was hopeful we’d get two of the 50 or so tickets available. Unfortunate we were unlucky. People could buy up to four tickets and by the time we got near the front all the tickets for the 9.15 train had been sold. Ah well, at least Mike got to clamber over the tracks to see the train on display at the station (clambering over tracks is not permitted in the UK). We still have plenty of train trips to come including the Himalayan Queen that will take us up to Shimla – so Mike’s train fix will be satisfied!

After a very, very, very long drive – all credit to Vaishakh – we have safely arrived at our beach hotel resort. This will be our home for the next 3 days (4 nights), so now it’s time to relax and recharge. We arrived around 5.30 and after a slight panic that I’d lost our passports (I hadn’t) we were welcomed with a pale mark on the forehead and some delicious cold blue tea. It tasted slightly of blueberries, but they told us it’s brewed from these blue flowers growing around the gardens here.

We’re staying in a garden cottage with a thatched straw roof. Air conditioned inside, thankfully, as it is 27 degrees (at 8pm!). The bathroom is outside in a small garden enclosure. They advise lighting citron incense sticks at night in the bathroom to ward off mosquitos (no one wants a bite in the bum when they pay a late night visit).

Although it was dark, we wandered down to the beach to see if we might be able run on the sand tomorrow. It feels firm enough by the shore, so that’s something for tomorrow’s RED January. Dinner in the restaurant isn’t served until 7.30pm and we were a little early so we wandered over to the beach bar. There was a guitarist singing as we had a drink (Mike a mocktail, me a tonic water) and perused the range of free activities we can enjoy while we’re here. I think it’s going to be a lovely few days here.

This trip has a lot of gardens on the itinerary, but I also wanted to visit a tea plantation. Today that wish came true and it was spectacular. We visited a tea factory this morning and that was interesting enough, but it was very commercial. Vaishakh suggested that he could take us to an authentic tea estate further outside Ooty where there would be no tourists. Boy did he deliver.

The estate he took us too was called Glendale (or so the hotel porter said when we showed him our pictures), the oldest in the area, established over 80 years ago. The factory wasn’t working today as it was a holiday, but they were happy for us to look around. It was like a time capsule with much of the machinery looking like it was also 80 years old. Certainly made way before the sort of health and safely rules we have in the UK, barely a safety guard in sight. My boss would have a fit!

The factory was really interesting, but it was the tea plantation that stole the show. Although it was a holiday for the factory workers, the workers picking (almost all women) were still working as they were paid depending how much they picked. As one said to Vaishakh, no work today, no food tomorrow. It struck home how hard they work for very little, and how privileged we are.

The tree bushes grow for between 40-50 years. It’s just the fresh leaves and tips that the pickers want, and they repeat the picking of every bush every 15 days to keep them in shape. All the tea picking is done by hand using a sort of pair of garden shears with a dust pan attached. As the shears chops, the tips collect in the pan. When that’s full they go into the sack. It was mesmerising to watch. I had to pinch myself to prove I was really standing in an Indian tea plantation. The tea bushes went on for as far as the eye could see, it was stunning.

As we were leaving we passed an amazing red bush. I had to look twice to realise that it was actually a huge Poinsettia. Here it was happy as Larry growing on the edge of the tea plantation, extraordinary!

I’m sure some of you are thinking of me as ‘Queen of the Hills’, that perhaps I’ve acquired some sari fabric and have hi-jacked a bus so that I can sit on the roof, with a long length of fabric flowing behind me as we drive through tea plantations much like Pricilla Queen of the Desert. Sadly, nothing quite so glamorous or camp. Queen of the Hills refers to Ooty, allegedly referring to it as the finest of the British ‘hill stations’. Sadly the days of Ooty as a rather stately and dignified place have passed. If Ooty is a Queen today, it’s more of a tired drag queen, with perhaps a bit too much makeup on. The mass commercialisation of the centre of Ooty means that it’s actually pretty tawdry. 

Thankfully – after a tip off from Bharath and Shubhi we avoided booking accommodation in Ooty and instead opted for a small hotel perched high up just outside Wellington. It is a spectacular location – the views are stunning and the air is clear. It’s only a short drive (around 30 minutes) into Ooty so we were able to visit the Botanical Gardens there today.

In the UK,and many other countries, a botanical garden is a place where plants are preserved (often from extinction in the wild) and horticultural research is carried out. Here they seem to be more like public parks and very English ones at that. You could have picked up Ooty Botanical Garden and dropped it down in an English seaside resort like Eastbourne or Bournemouth and nobody would bat an eyelid.

The botanical gardens in Ooty were full of lots of features you might find in British parks. A glasshouse – here filled with lots of common garden flowers you’d see in the UK, Busy Lizzie, Pelargoniums, Impatience and Salvias. There was lots of clipped hedging (mostly Lelandi) and neat flower beds. A conservatory for succulents (currently closed for refurbished), a fern house (also closed), ponds, an Italianate terrace (again think seaside bedding) and a bandstand. There was also a lot of green lawn of course. The whole garden must take an enormous amount of watering to keep it looking so green. Also lots of labour – but that’s very cheap here.

The plants around the garden were very familiar, in fact I have many in my own garden. There were hydrangeas, ferns, Arum Lilly (Zantedeschia), fuchsias, and lots and lots of bedding. You got a real sense that when the garden was created in the 1840s they were creating a little bit of England in India to remind them of home. They certainly achieved that.

We’re staying at the small but lovely Sleeping Beauty hotel near Ooty, it lives up to its name. We slept well after a long days travel. We woke to the most amazing view from our balcony. The hotel is so-named after the Sleeping Beauty mountain – although we’re not sure which mountain it is (there are quite a few around).

The restaurant is in a separate block to where our room is so it’s just a few steps to breakfast. The room is cantilevered off the hill so it feels like we’re floating. A wall of floor-to ceiling glass adds to this feeling and provides a spectacular panorama of the valley and mountains. The glass wall makes it hard to distinguish where the room stops and the view begins. It’s definitely a room with a view, but could equally be described as a view for a room.

It’s been another long drive today, about 300km, from Bangaluru to Mysore then onto Wellington near Ooty where we’re staying tonight. I’ll be honest, I snoozed for most of the first half (which is no bad thing given the kamakazi drivers!). I’m glad I wasn’t asleep for the second half. 

After we’d left Mysore the landscape was full of palm trees – as far as the eye could see, then plantain trees. We began to climb into the Nilgiri Hills – and climb we did! I’m glad Vaishakh was driving as the road was narrow and so many sharp turns. I saw a sign that said 6 out of 39 hairpin bends! The view of the mountain range was spectacular.

About half way up our climb we entered the Bandipur Tiger Reserve and then the Mudumali Tiger Reserve. No tigers for us today – we wouldn’t expect to see them so close to the road. We were still treated to a wonderful range of wildlife. There were deer – lots of them, monkeys – lots of those too, wild peacocks strutting their stuff, wild boar, a bison  and most wonderful of all several elephants including the most beautiful baby elephant. All viewed from the car window! This was certainly a drive to remember.

The Lalbagh flower show is the reason I made a last minute change to our itinerary so we could visit Bengaluru sooner than originally planned. It’s held to coincide with India’s Rebublic Day holiday (26 January). It was worth the change of schedule.

It’s held in Lalbagh Botanical Garden that was originally conceived in the eighteenth century under the reign of one of the rulers of the kingdom of Mysore – Hyder Ali. Lalbagh was inspired by the Mughal style and was designed to resemble the paradisiacal gardens mentioned in the Quran. These elegant ideas were transformed into reality using carefully crafted landscapes that included flowing waters and a variety of rare plants imported from Delhi, Multan, and Lahore. 

The 18th and 19th centuries witnessed the occupation of the area by the British. During this transition, the garden developed into a significant arboretum under British governance in 1799. Horticulturists from Britain were amazed at the gardening opportunities offered in Lalbagh, and they started bringing in plants from the far corners of the world. It was an era of trading plants when seeds and trees were brought to grow in the garden from around the world.

During the nineteenth century the glass house was constructed in the centre of the park, said to be inspired by London’s Crystal Palace. The Glasshouse, built in 1889 is made of iron and glass. The metal pillars supporting the Glasshouse have the manufacturer’s mark of Glasgow, and the glass came from Belgian. It provided a refuge to shelter delicate plants from the local weather elements that changed frequently. Now it plays host to the Lalbagh Flower Show.

The flower show is said to have been inspired by the Royal Horticultural Societies great spring show – now known as the Chelsea Flower Show. It’s a little bit like the Chelsea Flower Show from the 1950s or 60s. Whereas Chelsea has evolved into far more naturalistic planning – Lalbagh is most definitely a riot of colours, with flowers arranged like Victorian park carpet bedding displays. This year’s theme pays tribute to the legendary Indian poet Valmiki, with different floral arrangements honouring his work.

It was lovely seeing people taking selfies in front of the flower displays – just like I do at Chelsea. We were also in for a surprise. Vaishakh had been behaving a little odd as we’d entered the park and implied we might be in for a surprise. We were about three quarters around the glass house when we turned around and behind us was Shubhi! We thought she’d already flown back to London so we’re very surprised and delighted to see her. It turned out she’d extended her stay in Bengaluru by a couple of weeks. We wandered through the park together chatting and eating mango with chilli before we said our farewells and set off on our next stage of this mammoth road trip.

We drank our first fresh coconuts when we were visiting the Five Rathas at Mahabalipuram, it was very refreshing in the heat. Today on our drive from Mysuru to Wellington, Vaishakh pulled over at a coconut stall by the side of the road to try another one. He assured us they would taste different here, he was right. They were sweeter and there seemed to me much more coconut water than the first one we’d drunk. It’s strange seeing the coconuts here as they are large and round, shaped and looking more like a melon. They’re not at all like the dry hairy brown ones we used to see at fair ground shys. Of course that is just a dried version of the same fruit, missing the fleshy outer layer. The way that the coconut stall man cuts the coconut is an art (and slightly terrifying – I did count to check he still had all his fingers and thumbs!). After you’ve drunk the coconut water, you hand it back to him, he cracks it in two with a huge knife, then shapes a spoon from one half and scrapes out the flesh into the coconut half for you to eat. The flesh is very wet, chewy and mild – not the strong coconut flavour you get from dried coconut. It’s refreshing but perhaps an acquired taste, the texture isn’t really to my liking – but the coconut water is delicious.

Don’t try this at home!

We saw this sign in the mall supermarket yesterday. Clearly the last sentence is obscured, so we need your help to finish this line – ‘You take care of your toilet, we’ll take care …??? There will be a small holiday souvenir prize (don’t get too excited) for our favourite suggestion.

We decided (well I did) that it would be best to gently ease ourself into India by spending our first few nights in a posher hotel than we’d usually stay in at home. The Hyatt Regency Channai is a haven from the moment you step off the traffic clogged  Anna Salai main Road, the calm washes over you. The driveway is planted with tropical palms and other exotics. 

At the entrance you’re greeted by security checks, all bags go through x-Ray machines and visitors go through metal detectors. We asked Vaishakh why the security was so tight and he said all big hotels introduced it following the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel terrorist attack in Mumbai in 2008. It had echos of the Northern Ireland troubles when the security guard at the gate used a mirror device on rollers to check under Vaishakh’s car when he dropped us off yesterday to make sure there were no bombs underneath!

As soon as you are through security there are staff everywhere. There’s the main door greeter, then the lift greeter in the lower lobby, and the main lobby greeter. This is all before you get to reception. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to someone carrying my bags and opening every door, but the cool air conditioning is a welcome relief from the Chennai heat.

The reception lobby is vast with rooms arranged over 9 floors in a triangle with a huge atrium in the middle. The lobby lounge has a beautiful water feature – a canal that aligns with the outdoor pool and is flanked by an avenue of fig trees. There are five restaurants, an Italian, a cafe/bistro, a noodle one, a world fusion one and a cocktail bar/diner. Then there is the lobby lounge itself where you can have tea and light snacks.

The gym on the first floor is very well equipped. I’ve used it a few times to do my RED (run every day) January challenge. Although treadmills are a bit boring, they are preferable to running in the heat and polluted streets of Chennai (I’m hoping the air will be clearer when we get away from the big cities). 

Our taste of the high life comes to an end today as we check out and hit the road for our first big drive to Bangalore. Farewell Hyatt Regency, it’s been fun – but it’s a good job I don’t get accustomed to it as when the holiday is over it’ll be back to the charity world budgets of Travelodge!

I’ve already mentioned that I’m glad it’s not me who is driving in India. The roads are crazy, noisy (honking one’s horn seems mandatory) and dirty (you can taste the pollution on the busy roads). Not only are there cars, vans, tuk-tuks (auto rickshaws), bikes and people everywhere in the streets – but there are also animals. Street dogs are very common, they wander around almost oblivious to the chaos on the streets (clearly they are more used to it than me!). We’ve seen a few goats – not tethered, just ambling along, having a munch on whatever they can find. The thing that really grabs your attention is when the cows just wander across the traffic clogged dual carriageway! You’d think that it would be carnage with people running into cows. Fortunately the cows are very safe as they are considered to be a manifestation of the Mother Goddess Gau Mata. Hindus believe the cow to be a sacred animal, providing life-sustaining milk. As a vegan I like the idea that the cow is held in such high esteem, I’d just prefer it if they had ‘cow lanes’ or even better, get rid of the traffic and have cow priority streets!

Refreshed from my swim (and a little snooze for Mike), we pondered what to do for dinner. It’s not impossible to be vegan in India, but it isn’t quite as well understood here as we’d hoped so it does take a bit of planning and usually a conversation to check that whatever it is that sounds like it might be vegan hasn’t been cooked using ghee (a clarified butter). We ate in the hotel restaurant last night and the chef prepared us a lovely selection of vegan dishes: a dhal, alloo (potato) curry), a vegetable curry and some flat breads. We could have eaten in again, but we thought we ought to try somewhere different. Plus Mike wanted to find a supermarket where we could get some supplies for our long road trip tomorrow. 

I did a bit of research online and found that the Express Avenue shopping mall was just one stop away from our hotel in the metro. It said there were grocery stores and restaurants, so we headed off. Upon arrival, the first store we came to was a small food shop that seemed to specialise in organic and international foods. Although it wasn’t vegan we found some familiar vegan treats. Lotus caramel and Oreo (yes ‘accidentally vegan’) biscuits, both went in the basket along with some vegan chocolate, peanuts, salted crisps and a big bag of fried salted broad beans. This should keep us going on our long road trip to Bengalore tomorrow.

Further into the mall there were lots of familiar brands Sephora (the beauty shop), Body Shop, Benetton, and H&M – which was handy. You know how the song goes ‘mad dogs and English men go out in the midday sun’, well guess who did that? A certain somebody packed a bit too much ‘air’ and despite coming to India for four weeks, didn’t pack a hat. As a result he’s a little blushed today after our visit to the beach (he didn’t even put any sun cream on). A trip to H&M sorted him out with a nice cap, and a couple of long sleeve t-shirts to protect his fair skin.

While Mike popped into H&M I nipped into a Simon Carter shirt shop. I do like his shirts but back in the UK they retail for about £175 and I can never quite bring myself to spend that on a shirt. I wondered how much they were here, plus there was a sale on! For the whole of 2024 I didn’t buy any new clothes – it was a new year resolution to be a bit more eco-friendly, but as it’s 2025 I think that I can now buy new clothes again, but I’m trying not to buy to many (this was about to go out the [shop] window).

My eye was instantly drawn to a colourful woven shirt and I thought this would be very appropriate purchase for this location. These colourful checked cotton shirts are traditionally known as Madras shirts, and the original name for Chennai was Madras (until it changed in 1996). I thought this would be a perfect souvenir from Chennai. I tried it on to make sure it fitted (it did, like a glove), then went to the cash desk to pay. That’s where it started to go wrong! The boy behind the desk said ‘choose another’, I replied I was fine with this one, he said ‘it’s two for the price of one’. It was already reduced to 2999 rupees (about £29.50 – a LOT cheaper than the UK). I returned to the shelf and tried to pick out a second shirt. It was hard – there were too many lovely ones to choose from. I shortlisted two – a white one with a delicate green and blue dotted geometric pattern and a modern floral one that reminded me of the Swedish prints of Marremeko. I tried them both on and was struggling to choose when he started to barter (as they do in India). ‘Second one half price, best and final offer Sir’. How could I refuse! So I walked out with three shirts for a total cost of around £40! I went to Michael in H&M, looking a bit sheepish I explained my ‘too good to refuse’ dilemma. He looked at me and said ‘you should have packed more air’, that was me told! 

We wandered up to the food court where we found a noodle place that did a nice vegetable noodle stir fry, washed down with some refreshing peach tea. We were both craving something sweet but all the desert places were only offering milk based creations (we’ve not seen any sorbet yet). There was a juice bar though, so we went to check out the menu. Mike wanted some sweet mango juice, but no can do. It’s not the season for fresh mangos apparently, so they’re only available between March and May. He settled for pineapple instead. I was drawn to a section of the menus that proclaimed juice concoctions that offer a wide range of health benefits. Ladies if you want to be ‘well women’ then it’s pineapple, passion fruit, beetroot and carrot juice for you. If you want ‘beauty slimmer’ then may I suggest ‘melon, apple, kiwi and orange’. For me and my dodgy sight it had to be ‘eye power juice’ using carrot, orange, passion fruit and mango (not fresh obviously!). I expect to wake up tomorrow with my eyes returned to their former glory!

It was getting close to ten when the mall shut (it felt most strange shopping late in a Sunday – not something we can do at home). We wandered to towards the end of the mall and lo and behold – there she blew! That little outpost of blighty – good old M&S. No food hall, sadly, but it did have men’s, women’s, kids and beauty. A little bit of home right here. I had read there were 101 M&S stores across India so I had expected we’d bump into one sooner or later – just not this soon. We’ve got about 29 days to go on this holiday so only 100 M&S stores to go!

When we visited the Shore Temple at  Mahabalipuram, Vaishakh our driver came inside with us and was telling us a bit about the history. That didn’t last long. Apparently the guides are very protective of their trade so if you’re not an official guide they get very upset. They told him that they would report him to the police if he didn’t leave, so he left us on our own to wander around and met us outside once we’d finished. After the temple it was a short drive to the Five Rathaus, an amazing collection of temples and sculptures carved straight out of the rocks. 

It wasn’t quite as busy as the shore temple and beach had been so it felt more relaxed wandering around. Also wandering around the site were a group of four young British lads. Mike offered to take a photo of them in front of one of the sculptures. They were very happy to offer him their phones and cameras for him to snap away. Little did they know that with this, they had opened a Pandora’s box! 

Always keen to educate the young, Mike asked them if they knew about the site – apparently they did not. That confession was their instant mistake, without a moments hesitation Mike, guide book in hand, proceeded to inform them about the world heritage site they were viewing. I’m sure that they were appreciative of his cultural knowledge. I’m just glad he wasn’t arrested for impersonating an official tour guide.

Bharath and Shubhi our friends in the UK (who’ve helped us so much planning our trip) had warned us (apologised in fact) before we came to India about the litter here. This kind of prepared us in advance to see litter in the streets, but even we have been a bit taken aback by just how prolific litter is. Litter bins seem to be few and far between, but even if they were more common, it doesn’t look as though many people would use them. People just seem to discard their rubbish anywhere that they like. 

As we walked around the world heritage sites at Mahabalipuram today, the stone temples and sculptures were amazing, but people just discard their rubbish amongst them. After visiting the shore temple we walked down to the beach, passing lots of stalls selling all kinds of tourist tat (Aunty Janet would love these stalls!). All along the sandy walkway down to the beach was discarded food packets and rubbish. Even on the beach the litter  was prolific. You kind of get used to it after a while and although it’s all around, you sort of don’t notice it as much. There’s always so much to distract you with amazing sights and sounds all around. 

This was certainly the case at the beach where the shoreline was thronged with pilgrims who were visiting en-mass. The beach was a riot of colour with women bedecked in amazing saris and men in colourful outfits. Vaishakh our driver explained to us why so many were wearing wonderful red and gold outfits. Apparently red is the favourite colour of the goddess they were paying their respects too. The water was quite choppy with waves crashing onto the sand, but all along the edge of the water the pilgrims were enjoying the waves washing onto over them. many of the men were stripped down to their shorts and waist high in the waves. Even if I’d had my trunks I don’t think I’d have been tempted into the water – but I am going to take a dip in the pool at the hotel. We’ve had rain showers today but the temperatures are still in the high 20s, so a dip to cool off is just what is needed.

The Metro from the airport to our hotel was easy, no changes and it took just under half an hour. Slight panic at the ticket office when our credit cards were refused, but we think it was because it was below the minimum spend (the tickets are very cheap). We exchanged some £ for rupees and all was fine. I almost walked into the women’s only carriage but Mike spotted the sign just in time.

When we got to our hotel they were serving breakfast so we had some dossa, dhal and done steamed buns (all delicious), before heading to our room for some much needed sleep. A few hours later we were much refreshed and ready to go for a wander.

On the map it looked like a short walk to a small botanical garden. Google maps said 15 minutes so that seemed doable. What I hadn’t really taken into account was a) the heat – it’s in the high 20s and very humid, and b) the traffic – or more to the point the pollution. Our hotel is on a main road and it’s horrendous. I couldn’t drive here – it’s mad. The volume of traffic creates a haze of smog that you can taste and feel. I’ll be glad to get out of the city tomorrow and to some (hopefully) clearer air down the coast.

Nevertheless we persevered with our walk, treading our way along what might be generous to call pavement. Sometimes they are there, sometimes they are not. Even when there is, pavement you can suddenly come to a big hole that if you weren’t paying attention to, you could easily trip down. Google maps finally took us away from the traffic clogged main road down a side street which had its own challenges – no pavement at all, plus piles of rubble and litter. At the end was our destination – the botanic garden. When we arrived, to our surprise (and my delight) we discovered the garden is currently hosting the Chennai Flower Show!

We paid our entry fee 200 rupees each (about £2), and followed the crowds. It was certainly popular there were so many families out enjoying the displays. Now, we’re not talking Chelsea Flower Show here, more English seaside carpet bedding. There were colourful block displays and then dotted throughout the garden, floral bedding displays in all different shapes. My particular favourite was the teapot pouring flowers into a cup, but there was a train, car, peacock, elephants and more. The best bit was people watching – the women were wearing the most amazing saris that were as bright, if not brighter than the flowers. The men looked very dowdy by contrast. In fact we looked quite bland ourselves – must try harder! By the end of the holiday we should aim to take our cue from  the colourful as floral peacock (or the women).

We departed Heathrow in the late afternoon, so soon after we took off it was time for dinner. We opted for premium economy tickets to have bigger chairs and more leg room – it was definitely worth it. I don’t think I’d have enjoyed 9 hours in economy. Alongside a more spacious seat, our dinner was served on real plates, with real glasses and real cutlery. My brother enquired this morning if we had ‘pocketed it’ – absolutely not! 

As vegans, it always feels like a gamble as to whether your pre-ordered meal will turn up. Fortunately they did, although there was a moment when Michael’s came and I was left waiting for a while (the other vegan meal was stacked at the back of the trolley). For plane food, dinner was ok. A pea pasta with accompanying bean salad, followed by a lovely coconut rice pudding with fresh mango. To avoid spilling my dinner down myself (an Aunty Janet speciality) I tucked my linen napkin firmly into my shirt. The shirt was saved, but annoyingly I managed to drop some dinner on my trousers – but nothing a handy wet wipe couldn’t clean up.

It’s a strange feeling when you fly between time zones, it was barely any time from when we took off to it being dark outside. Although it was really still late afternoon it suddenly felt like the middle of the night. I did my best (with help of earplugs and an eye mask) to get some sleep so that when we arrived in Chennai early in the morning, I wouldn’t be completely wasted. It worked to a degree, I got at least 4 hours. When I woke it was time for our vegan breakfast to be served and then in no time we were ready to land. 

Slightly sleepy, we’d arrived. Getting through visa/passport control took a little while as they took photos and finger print scans, but we were soon out of the airport with our bags, taking a short stroll to the metro station. As we stood on the platform the dawn was starting to break and the first glimpses of Chennai were revealed. 

The exciting build up to our big holiday is over, we’re finally on the move. The journey to Heathrow was smooth and uneventful – a train from Bristol to Paddington, then a quick transfer to the Heathrow Express. Michael did manage to give me some anxiety by deciding to disappear across the station for a pee just minutes before our train to Heathrow was due to depart Paddington (this was after spending and hour and a half on a train with loos a plenty). He reappeared just in the nick of time thankfully (with two vegan pasties, too).

At Heathrow we navigated the self-serve check-in with assistance from the BA staff, since we were defeated by the self-serve terminals. I explained to the man from BA that we don’t fly much, which is true – in my effort to reduce flights (to help fight global heating), I haven’t taken a flight for over three years. Not flying hasn’t stop me travelling, though, I’ve been letting the train take the strain. I’ve travelled to Amsterdam and Hamburg by train. We took trains and ferries to Dublin, and in June we’re going to Glasgow on the Caledonian sleeper. I think trains are much more civilised!

The experience of taking a plane is quite a novelty after such a long time. After our bags were checked in, Mike decided to wander off again – this time in the direction of a post office – I followed, deciding not to risk letting him out of my sight again. After discovering that it seemed all the ATMs at Heathrow were going to charge him £2.50 for the privilege of taking out his own money, he decided to see if he could get his money out of the post office instead! As a First Direct customer I regularly use the local post office to deposit cash because the alternative is a trek into town to the nearest post HSBC. It turns out that it’s easy to withdraw money via the post office, too! And for free!!

Next stop, security. There was a bit of a do when one of us accidentally scanned the wrong boarding card. It was probably me, as I was the one sent back to a BA desk for a quick passport/visa check. Once that was done it was back to the security x-rays. You know the routine – belts and jackets off, pockets emptied, liquids in bags, electrics in a separate tray – it’s quite reassuring to know they do it so thoroughly (hopefully better than the old days when my dad managed to get his penknife through airport security!).

I walked through the metal detector and inevitably set the alarms off (probably the nipple piercings), so I was ushered into the full body x-ray machine where you have to hold your hands above your head before they use the wonder of technology to undress you virtually (someone was in for a treat 🤣). Next a gentle ‘feel up’ from the security man, then I was on my way. Meanwhile, Mike sailed through security without any incidents.

We didn’t have long to wait before the plane departed, so we grabbed some sandwiches from Pret and took the shuttle train to our departure gate, where there was just time to sort out an Indian e-sim for my phone so I can ‘roam’ while we’re there. Michael was very excited to see the planes taking off, but not quite as excited as he was when he saw a robot cleaning machine doing its thing! Sigh – that man likes gadgets. Thankfully robot vacuum cleaners weren’t available to buy in duty free! 

On to the plane we go – and next stop Chennai!

I have been packing my bag for India for some time – months in fact. You may think that is a little over-organised, but let me explain. 

I do like my clothes (a little too much one’s husband would say!). To manage my, ahem, large collection, each spring and autumn I put the winter or summer clothes into clothes boxes and put them away until the next year. Not only is this excellent wardrobe management, it means each spring or autumn I get to be reacquainted with a new wardrobe – it’s like seeing old, much loved friends again after a break. 

Rather than having to dig out the packed away summer clothes in the middle of winter for our trip to India – I planned ahead. When I packed them up in the autumn I decided to select which summer pieces I’d be taking to India and put them to one side (in my travel bag). I’ve gradually been packing the other things I’ll be taking and last week packed my hand luggage. I do not like to leave things to the last minute!

Meanwhile, the other traveller on this trip has been less proactive with their packing. When I left home one Wednesday morning to go to London for two days of work meetings, his bags contained one pair of shorts and a travel towel. This very relaxed form of travel planning does increase my anxiety levels. I have visions of the other traveller still packing when we should have departed!

Rather than focus on the content of his own bag, the other traveller has been somewhat pre-occupied with the content of my bag. Regularly commenting that I should have ‘more air’ in my bag and less stuff. My reply is simple – you carry what you want and I’ll carry what I want – simple.

With our departure date now just one sleep away, I hope that by the time I get home tonight (I’m writing this on the train) there will be a lot less air in the other travellers bag. 

I may have mentioned in this blog before that my dad loved his travels. Love is probably an insufficient word to describe what we would probably diagnose today as obsessive compulsive disorder! The pleasure he took from a holiday was not so much the actual holiday, but rather the weeks of meticulous planning he would do in preparation for the trip. Planning would usually begin with scouring AA and Michelin travel guides – these were real printed guides as it was years before the internet. Potential destinations were discussed with my mum, maps (again real ones – no Google maps then!) were poured over and slowly an itinerary began to emerge. More references to the guides to find possible campsites, then – in the days before email – phone calls and sometimes actual letters sent back and forth in the post were exchanged to confirm availability and costs. Dad’s holiday preparations were almost a military exercise! Eventually a plan on a chart emerged (on paper – no spreadsheets then), it contained dates, times, the route with all the places we’d stop at and places we’d stay. It amazes me to think he would pack us all in the car, caravan in tow, destined for a foreign destination – France, Germany, Austria, we went all over Europe. My primary school mates would go on summer holidays to Yarmouth or Lowestoft – lovely as they are, but for us Heidelberg, Salzburg, Nantes or La Rochelle sounded much more exotic!

Fast forward thirty-something years and here I am, my father’s son, but with a bit more technology at my disposal. Our holiday is mapped out on a spreadsheet, with different tabs for the daily itinerary, the accommodation, the days we’ll be travelling with a driver, the train travel, the places to visit, and last but not least, the availability of vegan food. We two greedy vegans do not want to be left hungry, so I have researched vegan-friendly eateries in every place we’re visiting/staying – we shall not go hungry (as an emergency back up I even know where there are Marks & Spencer stores in India – and there are over a 100 of them!).

As with all best laid plans, however, I’ve hit a snag that has called for a last minute change. I was laying in bed a couple of nights ago and thought I’d check the details for the Bengalore Republic Day Flower Show (that’s the India version of the Chelsea Flower Show!). A visit to this show has been high up my list of places I want to go on this trip. To my dismay, when I checked it turned out that the flower show dates this year are a bit earlier than I’d expected and the show would end the day before we were due to arrive in Bengalore – catastrophe! Fear not, quick thinking and a small re-jig of the schedule at the start of our trip means we will now be able to visit Bangalore twice – first next week (I shall go to the flower show!), before we return at the end of January for a longer trip. Spreadsheet is duly updated and a dawning realisation that I am also an obsessive compulsive holiday planner – Dad would be proud I think!