Mcleod, Ganj. No relation to Conor

Sitting in a hotel restaurant overlooking the valley beneath McLeod Ganj - home in exile to the Dalai Lama and centre of the Tibetan diaspora - I've just finished a hearty breakfast of Thanthuk, traditional Tibetan broth filled with hearty Ho-fun like noodles. Well, I say I'm looking out on to the valley. Being monsoon season the cloud has quickly gathered itself, covering everything in a shroud of mist, which is billowing in through the open window. I imagine this must be what eating in Heaven is like. The music thus far has been anything but traditional. We started with "Take It Easy" by the Eagles, apt as I have spent the past few evenings in the company of a girl from Arizona (not Winslow mind you, but she was still a fine sight to see). Next was India's favourite, "Careless Whisper", followed swiftly by GnR Knockin' on Heaven's Door. Heaven took a turn for the worse when Lionel Richie answered said door in his famous lax Sunday-like fashion, so Pink Floyd built their Wall across the door and restored faith to the bretheren.

Amen.

This is all a nice relaxing distraction to the 15-hour journey I've just undertaken from Delhi to here. To be fair, I've never known a more punctual and well-run coach service. My only complaint is that I had to use my arse to grip myself to my seat during the climb up the windy roads in the latter stage of the journey. If my backside didn't have such a high coefficient of friction, I surely would've ended up in the lap of the person sitting opposite me. Other than that, praise be to the Himachal Pradesh Tourist Company! Praise also must be shared with Lady Luck, who sat me next to a Buddhist Monk for the entire trip. Ho screaming kid blasting down my earhole, at least. Unfortunately he spent most of the journey cocooned in his robes, totally cream crackered after an early start that day (which I found odd as I thought all monks were used to early starts). Before he did climb the hills to Bedfordshire, he told me of his travels around Asia, quoting Singapore as a great place because of its strict government (that surprised the hell out of me). Did you know that monks carry business cards? Well, I do now. And I'm pleased to say that this Lama shares my passion for secreting small puns into his email addresses. Brilliant. Hope our paths cross when I'm in Hong Kong. He's having difficulty getting a visa, and I just might if the Peoples Republic find out I've been messaging a monk.

The Director of the Monastery where Tony has found digs for his trip commented that he was very handsome and would have all the girls' hearts a flutter. Tony has known this fact for some time, but didn't like to say.