Our final night in Chennai was interesting. And not in a good way. We arrived and were hassled off the bus before it had even stopped. Being highly adept at the uninterested look we haggled our crowd down until only one man was willing to take us for the price we wanted to pay. So we headed to our reservation, but weren't expecting to have to cross a river to get into the place. Rainy season. We met one guy leaving the hotel who told us that his bed had fleas. We moved on.

The next place wasn't a huge amount better but being late and Sean feeling a bit under the weather we just accepted and told ourselves it wasn't as bad as Bangalore. Having dosed Sean up on painkillers all day we thought we had better eat something before bed. So we bought a few snacks to munch on in front of the telly. Then, straight to sleep because we needed a really good nights' rest before an early start for the plane. This was not to be. About 2am Sean was shaking so much he wouldn't have looked out of place on a fifties dance floor. Freezing cold and shake, rattle and rolling like the best of them I did my best to keep him warm. Unfortunately, India hostels aren't that well equipped for cold weather and neither were we, so no blankets. Piled with a mountain of towels and various clothes I could find in the dark, he felt a little better. Being so wrapped up however, did not help with the swift exit he had to make later. After participating in the noisiest room awards with the surrounding rooms, we had a little bit of sleep before heading to the airport and out of the country.

India it seems had other plans for us. After a massive ordeal at check in with credit cards and tickets we were made to purchased another ticket for the same flight and attempted again to get out. Sean still not feeling well, not helped by the full on a/c, was easily noticeable by the growls of 'Can't even run a bloody airport' and 'This wouldn't happen in England'. Finally checked in we headed out. Almost. Being herded to the immigration queue, yes we realise too that sounds ridiculous when LEAVING the country, which was a mile long. Laura did her best impression of old England: we-deserve-it-cos-we're-British to get Sean as seat while she began to queue.

Still feeling like s***, sat down between two guys nervously holding passports, the one on my right had issues with the picture on his passport: I saw it, it wasn't him. In truth, it looked like something you get from Legoland. The man on my left was a different story; he was nervous and claimed to not know why he was there. He had been stopped at customs, something to do with his visa, said he was Sri Lankan and wanted to go home. I started being sympathetic but the guy soon tested my patience, when he asked if he could borrow 10,000 Rs to buy a new ticket if he missed his flight. I declined. He wanted to give me the address of his family in Colombo to contact and I started to pretend to not understand English. He was worried about being deported, which when trying to get home is surely a good thing?! When I saw Laura at the front of the queue finally I left him mid conversation.

The flight was great not bad for £40. Views of Sri Lanka were amazing and only then could we believe we were out of India!!