Party night

youtube has lots of useful stuff. Plenty of rubbish too, but I managed to find video instructions on how to tie a dhoti. So starting with a double sheet I followed the step by step guide aiming to achieve the Gandhi look. All went well until I reached the final step. Whatever I did, I could not get the final fold of cloth up between my legs and tucked into the waist band; either it was the thickness of the material (I had to fold the sheet twice to start) or something I didn't understand. Probably both, so I improvised.

The result was almost there, and good enough for a costume (sorry Billy!) party. I draped a shawl over my shoulders, shaved my beard to an Indian style moustache and wore my old fashioned thin framed specs. Although not especially associated with Gandhi I wrapped a pillowcase (certainly not Gandhi!) around my head in a headband style that I'd seen some of the locals wear. To complete the look I carried an umbrella. Well almost complete, my personal finishing touch and a tribute to our event were my multicoloured enduro bike boots! The effect was, let's say, eye-catching! The outfit was well received but I don't think it will catch on in the fashion houses of Milan; it certainly drew some strange looks from the hotel staff. (a picture will be posted when I get one)

The evening proceeded with a few final wrap up words from the team before dinner. Billy, as she did most mornings, inspired us with a few choice words about the culture we had been living for the past week or so and quoted a particularly colourful passage about the Enfield from the book Shantaram (I must read this).

The Enfield is as much as part of India as anything is these days and it's character is for sure Indian. Some of us may have questioned the use of what is considered a classic bike in the UK, but after riding them for 1800kms we now understand why.

Just before dinner we sing a song composed by some members of the group. As you can imagine the lyrics are rugby club colourful and I'm honoured to have a few verses dedicated to me flying through the air "like a mong". I certainly felt like a bit of a mong sitting there throughout the evening and was slightly relieved at the end, as a wad of quad thickness bed sheet was becoming rather uncomfortable wedged into my bum.

We're leaving the hotel at 9am in the morning, but that won't stop some of our live wires staying up until the early hours. We are to travel to Chandigarh via the Himalayan Queen, a narrow gauge railway that threads it's way spectacularly though 102 tunnels dug into the mountains leading up to Simla.