We both have colds. Of all the illnesses we anticipated getting in India, a common or garden sniffle wasn't one of them. Brian is, of course, far worse than me, necessitating antibiotics, cough syrup and 24 hour round the clock nursing care. He has an irritating cough like that of seal with a 40 a day habit. I think he finds it almost as irksome as the rest of us.

Every time he speaks he has another coughing fit, so on the bright side he is uncommunicative for two days and we don't have to discuss any football progress or debate the Indian caste system, we're free to gossip, shop and cavort. Which we do, unshackling ourselves from the tyranny that is Nareesh, the Irish and meself take ourselves off to a jolly nice restaurant on a rooftop overlooking the floodlit Jaisalmer fort where we sip kingfisher beer, eat a very tasty curry and enjoy an impromptu fireworks display. Does life get any better?

The next day we parcel Brian up in his warmest woollies and set off on an overnight camel safari, which may sound quite adventurous but in reality it's camel lite. For starters our campsite is a large complex of pre-erected tents, each the size of a small marquee. These are our bedrooms, complete with double bed, carpet and, most gratifyingly, an ensuite bathroom. Whew, no creeping around the desert in the middle of the night with a torch and a roll of toilet paper as I had feared.

Then it was time to set off on our camels to see sunset on the sand-dunes and off we clumped. Our camel was called Lullaboo, I think. She certainly knew her way round those dunes, but of course they do that trip every day we realised once we rounded the last mound of sand and saw thirty other tourists there with their camel boys and attendant hustlers. It's a busy ole place, those sand-dunes at sunset. Blokes selling beer and coke, gypsy musicians and heavily costumed and bejewelled women and girls performing little gypsy dances and batting their heavily mascaraed eyelashes in the hope of bigger tips. Of course we obliged because, hey, we're tourists after all, and we've got a massive ensuite tent to go back to!

In the evening there was an outdoor buffet and more entertainment, more musicians, more dancing girls - although one of the girls had suspiciously large hands and was about six feet tall. Sadly we were both too ill to enjoy it fully and made our excuses early, retiring to our tent to sniff, sneeze and splutter the night away. With no heating in our tent the nighttime temperature was a cool 13 degrees. What I wouldn't have given for an electric blanket.

In the morning we took a little tour of the campsite and discovered that the plumbing for the ensuite bathrooms was no more sophisticated than a sewage pipe running about a foot beyond the tent, dumping all the contents directly into the ground and forming a mini ensuite cesspool. Classy.

That afternoon, back in our hotel in Jaisalmer Brian took to his bed and the Galway girls and I took to the streets for some shopping, milling and general funtimes. Nicole was attracting a lot of interest, she's blonde, 26 and gorgeous. Her mother and I try to negotiate her either a rich husband or a few hundred camels, but our hearts aren't really in it, what the hell are we going to do with the blasted animals anyway? Nicole is safe for another day, but will Brian ever be well again? Tune in for the next exciting episode.