Bob only added a few overnight bites to her catalogue, apparently preoccupied with the slats dropping out from under her side of the bed, leaving her with a very specific orthopaedic mattress, to which I remained oblivious. We breakfasted outside, making friends with the very entertaining house pooch who seemed determined to earn itself a beating by digging holes in the freshly raked sand. Our TukTuk ride to Trinco was beautifully cool and the small villages we passed were already alive with activity. We tracked down our heavy duty Leyland Ashok bus, with 'Kandy' painted ornately on its front, sitting quietly to the side of the bus depot with a suspicious vomit stain below one of the windows, giving us confidence for a smooth journey ahead. I tracked down the conductor, a friendly, bearded old man who smiled at us revealing whiter than white teeth and the news that the bus was leaving in 5 minutes. Perfect!

As we chugged out of Trinco, passing groaning roadside stalls of fish, fruit and veg the bus began to fill up. Watching each character alight and find a seat was a fascinating study of human nature. The painfully thin men proudly wearing immaculately pressed collared shirts and chinos, and the women vibrantly layered in reams of colourful, light weight, bold patterned fabrics which were whipped around by the welcome air currents sweeping through the ancient bus. Inquisitive eyes and wide smiles, which could have just been another deep wrinkle on their sun-weathered and heavily lined faces, gripped the rails with gnarled hands and sinewy forearms, chuckling away to each other, occasionally nodding and smiling, displaying dental arcades which Hattie Powell could have used as a very interesting case study.

An hour after we had left a grandmother and child took the seats infront of us and the 1 year old's huge dark eyes surveyed Bob in wonder and fearful adoration. She wore a full sari, which certainly didn't look like a hand-me-down and on one of her tiny chubby fingers was a beautiful gold ring which could only have been 8mm in diameter. At a stop to let the snack sellers move up and down the isle the family in front of us were replaced by a man, whose long and luxurious ear hair flowed in the breeze as we moved towards the hills at the centre of Sri Lanka. We stopped briefly at a dilapidated yard where we shared a cold Pepsi and braved the facilities. I cautiously tried a delicious looking chilli bread ring from a street seller and was pleasantly surprised, in the short term anyway. The road was amazingly good as it wound through paddy terraces and their surrounding lush vegetation. We blasted past fruit laden lorries, cricket pitches and farmers driving power harrows pulling trailers of knobbly vegetables to the numerous markets.

We climbed into the steeply wooded mountains, passing regular road gangs which explained the hitherto excellent asphalt, and mercifully the air temperature began to drop. After 4.5 hours we arrived on the beautiful lakeshore of Kandy and took a TukTuk to our guesthouse. During this ride it also dawned on us that Bob's faithful waterbottle was still swinging from a hook on the bus, we wished it all the best for its onward travels.

We tentatively knocked on the gates of Mr. Tenkoon's house, beautifully elevated over the Kandy Valley. He could not have been more welcoming or hospitable. We were brought tea on our balcony and discussed the plans for our stay with him before sliding into the fantastically cool pool in the corner of their lushous garden. Feeling thoroughly refreshed we followed Mr. Tenakoon's advice and walked into town. I was perfectly comfortable in a shirt and chinos, as the air temperature was a chilly 30 degrees, and we soon arrived at the tranquil centrepiece lake surrounded by steeply forested slopes. We walked along the shore to the red cross hall, passing the lake's island where a previous ruler was reported to have kept his harem, and took our seats in the large hall where the local dance routine was soon to begin. The drum banging and tassle shaking cavorting was very authentic, the plate spinning and fire walking I'm not so convinced by. We left the show feeling a little awkward, as neither of us like tourist traps, so we headed on to the golden temple of the tooth. We entered the compound, Bob having purchased some elephant decorated pantaloons to cover her disrespectful knees and left our shoes, and a significant proportion of my wallet contents outside.

We worked our way amongst the throng of worshippers, bustling through the ornately decorated passageways and arrived at the lavishly decorated golden shrine. This apparently contained the sacred tooth of the Buddha which had been snatched from his burning funeral pyre and chased around the globe until finally resting in Kandy and tonight it was due to be the integral part of a large procession. Thousands of the devout gathered in and around the temple and as the drumming intensified and the offerings piled up we beat a hasty retreat before we got squashed by the melee!

We took Mr. Tenakoon's tip for supper at a locals restaurant and it was excellent. We picked up some essentials from a supermarket, caught a TukTuk back to Ampityra and after fending off our enthusiastically inquisitive host, our single aim was to try to cool the room down. Whilst Bob tinkered with the cool air blower and caught up with Honeystone House, I set about making a cup of tea with our new ingredients... Sadly the Swedish milk complex reared its ugly head again and it appears that delicate Ceylon tea is not at its best when made with low fat drinking yoghurt...