Dry heat and bright sunshine at this time of year, when it's dark, cold and damp at home in Hertfordshire, do wonders for body and soul. My three-score-years-and-ten-plus-a-few drop away and I become a recycled teenager. I explore anew with a spring in my step, bounce in my friendly hotelier's jeep on long, straight military roads that lead to the Pakistan border, visit oases and simple settlements among desert sands, and search for ever-elusive Great Indian Bustards. Of course, I make time too for relaxation on my hotel's terrace with a glass of chilled Kingfisher, cool fresh lime soda or hot lemon tea while admiring views across flat rooftops and temple domes to a vast living fort that dominates the skyline beyond. I also meet my favourite family in a nearby musician's colony and take rice,
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