Introduction - the whys and wherefores

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'We need to get away....' says he....The Jackson family carbon footprint had been commendably small; over 25 years, 2 weeks in Gran Canaria, 6 weeks under canvas in Bordeaux, a family wedding in France, a couple of weekends in Amersterdam, Christmas in Benidorm (more by default than design, I hasten to point out).

'....To India'.....Yeah, right. We had both been down this road, albeit 35 years before. He spent 5 years practically commuting between India, Thailand and England. I spent 3 months trying to get to India on a wing and a prayer , an odessey that ended the wrong side of the Khyber pass, minus passport or money, alone, at night. Oh, and did I mention, 5 months pregnant? An ill conceived trip that ended with ignominious repatriation from Kabul and a sigh of relief...'We can hire a bike, travel, see a bit of the world before its too late'. Got that part right at least; neither of us would see 55 again and the old bodies seemed to be accumulating ailments at an alarming rate. Putting it down to wine-fuelled fantasy, I went along with the idea, confident we would eventually file it away under 'really bad ideas whose time will never come', like moving to Hastings. So it was with some surprise that I found myself, 6 months later, in a seemigly interminable queue outside the Indian High Commission, £30 at the ready, waiting for our 6 month visas.

Before I begin I would like to set down the background that led to this possibly ill-advised odessey. Folk have expressed, with thinly disguised envy, the wish that they too could up sticks and leave the humdrum behind, but not only were we probably living on borrowed time as far as this type of venture was concerned, we were definitely living on borrowed cash. A long overdue loan showed no sign of being repaid any time soon, our 'informal, mutually advantageous' tenancy agreement was arbitrarily curtailed, our own tenants had just signed up to stay in our home for another 6 months, every Eastern European that could wield a paintbrush had suddenly manifested in London and the weather was crap. So homeless and jobless and leaving just enough in the bank to keep the creditors' claws sheathed for a few months, we dusted down the credit cards and waved it all goodbye.

5 hours on that freezing December day gave a small foretaste of what was to come. A kind of festival atmosphere prevailed. It was astonishing how many couples 'of a certain age' were waiting to leave these gloomy shores and immerse themselves in India. 'We just got a cheapo 3 week package holiday, 'course we're not coming back on the return flight....we'll just carry on til the visa or the money runs out...' This from a 60 something couple, apparently entering the second childhood stage of life - what about family, grandkids? 'What about them? Its our time now. .You can't take it with you, and we're sure as hell not leaving any of it behind....'

A 20 year old secretary was making her first visit to distant family in a small village in S India, out of her mind with excitment. Elegantly dressed, with typical educated young Asian sophistication, I have since wondered how the reality lived up to her expectations. India can be way out of the Western comfort zone. So we emerged from the melee that is the Indian embassy with permission to stay for 6 months. The die was cast.

Next step, immunisation against the various nasties awaiting our arrival. Consulted my GP fully expecting (and, dare I say, secretly hoping) the 'Are you mad? What about your M.S./Chrohns/ rhuematiod arthritis? Of course I can't forbid you to go, but it would be suicidal...' response.. 'Always use an umbrella, the sun is very strong out there. I can only prescribe 3 months of medication, but if you're careful it should see you through. Have a good time'. OK, my last defense breached, I had no more excuses. In the event my medication took up more luggage space than my clothes, and the mosquito repellents needed a rucksack all of their own. Ken took no such precautions. 'In all the time I was there before I never got bitten'. Now me, I was eaten alive by midges in Scotland, I was taking no chances. Ken scorned the anti-malaria drugs and mocked my paranoia. We shall see...

So, January 5 2008 saw us waiting to board the 6am British Airways flight from Heathrow to Chennai. I was now resigned to my fate. Tearful (on my part at least) family farewells had been made, bags packed, totally inadequately as it turned out, all our worldly belongings had been crow- barred into our tiny shed to await our eventual return. We were now officially homeless, I was quietly hysterical. What the hell were we doing? Too late now, no going back. Ken had had the foresight to book on line 3 days into a good hotel in Chennai, with a view to jet lag recovery/acclimatisation, easing us into India gently. Sadly he did not have the foresight to bring the address of aforesaid hotel with him. We never did find it.

Thus the tone was set for the rest of our journey around S India. For 4 months we ricocheted around the continent wherever the wind or public transport took us. We couldn't have planned it any better.

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