We were going for a stroll with Wilbur the dog to the shopping strip for a smoothie. HB says “I’m ready”. I look at him. My Lord he isn’t? He’s not? Not the crappy old IBM T shirt that he got for free at some IT geek fest? Oh yes, it is. And it’s grubby.

I give him "The Look". He loves this look. It’s a kind of “I love you but you’re exasperating and you’re not going anywhere in that T shirt” look.

I kid you not it takes a surgical knife and an anaesthetic to get this T-shirt off him. Even when he accidentally got bleach on it he wouldn’t throw it out. I swear he wears this thing every day of the week he isn’t wearing a suit.

I’m not even going to go into the crappy old cargo pants; it’s another war for another day. 

More adventures from India and its wildlife. This time, still at the Corbett National Park in North West India, which lies next to a rock and pebble-filled riverbed. It was mostly pebbles at this time, because it was winter and therefore not raining (bet you didn’t see that one coming).

I seemed to be the only person who was willing to explore this spectacular scenery with a herd of what looked like wild horses.

As I was looking and snapping away I noticed one animal - definitely not a horse - was showing some interest in my activity. It looked like a large antelope with small curved horns.

I snapped away – it came closer – I snapped – it came closer - until finally I could touch it. Then it decided to chase me. This is fun (idiotic me), I let it chase me around a rock until I started getting tired. This looked pretty tame but it was a wild animal – I had no idea what it would do to me – it could head butt me or trample me.

My partner, HB, having had a fit of lunch, was urging us to eat crumpets.

He had already thrown himself on the remaining crumpet left over from last week, slightly curled at the edges, which he claimed could change the life of a child in Bangladesh. In fact tens of thousands of underfed children in Bangladesh could be saved if only everyone would send the last remaining crumpet in the pack that no one will eat.

He then proceeded to depress himself by convincing himself that the great crumpet salvation delivery would surely be intercepted by corrupt officials who would end up sitting around, eating the now slightly green crumpets with the curled up edges saying “why do they send our children this crap to eat?” and throwing them over their shoulder for the starving children to pounce on anyway.

“Where are all these crumpets coming from?” I asked (ingenuously).

“It’s the great crumpet war”, he mournfully replied.

We (H.B. and I), saw and experienced some amazing things.  Highlights like seeing the snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas, meditating in the Dalai Lama’s own temple, visiting some of the world’s most ancient and spiritual places, like the holiest Hindu city of Varanasi on the banks of the Ganges, watching the sun rise. Watching life on the river banks, from people bathing and performing their daily devotions to a man doing his washing the time honoured way – beating cleanliness into the clothes with a stick on a slab of rock.

The Sikh Golden Temple at Amritsar, covered with solid gold by a Maharajah after he had his prayers in the temple answered.

And the magnificent Muslim monument to peace and everlasting love – the Taj Mahal, which I was prepared to be blasé about, but which totally blew me away with its romantic origin and gigantic, yet elegant proportions.

Recently I spent 3 weeks in Northern India and I thought I’d share some of my experiences.

First let me say India is no holiday – it is travelling and an adventure – both of which many of us think are best left to 20-something backpackers.

Even in our air-conditioned cars with drivers and expert guides (more about guides later), it was often hard work. Especially when your tummy tells you need a European toilet and not a hole in the ground with two tiles on either side for your feet.

Trust me this is white-knuckle stuff, especially when the roads mostly seem like our outback roads with corrugations and potholes plus, in the foothills of the Himalayas, hundreds of hair-raising hairpin bends.  Actually, the ‘foothills’ seemed more like mountains to us but then we did see the snow covered towering peaks of the real mountains in the distance. Your driver (and I was in awe – I repeat awe, of their driving abilities) skilfully avoids monkeys, dogs, trucks, buses, cars and so on, on a road no wider than one lane of one of our side alleys.