Arriving in Pune was a little harsh, from the Pink Floyd, Wish You Were Here melody of Indian train travel, to having Johnny Rotten singing in your face. I’d think it a privilege if Johnny would do that, but I’d have to be in the right mood and when I arrived in Bombay I wasn’t, so I muttered my way to an overpriced hotel and battened down the hatches until I felt cheerful enough to make the journey to see my daughter at her college near Pune.

God knows how I made it out of bed on the morning of my flight to Kathmandu, but the same goes for the morning of my flight to India; my autopilot seems to work fine and I arrive at the airport in good time, if not really in any kind of fit state for flying.