Why does it always rain on me? (She sings!)

Dick has already written about the Thanksgiving service, so I will relate the taxi saga which got us there. Just outside the hotel is a taxi booth and before each journey negotiations take place (dh) for two cars. Glad to get out of the rain, off we went in convoy, dressed smartly, dh even wearing a tie (unheard of). 

Dick was advised to use his seatbelt, which would be handy if there had been a slot to insert it in. I think the driver wanted him to look as if he was wearing it, in case we were stopped by a policeman. Meanwhile the single windscreen wiper (driver's side, thankfully) was fighting a losing battle with the rain... 

It wasn't long before I became aware of a "little light showering " from within the vehicle....Everyone else was oblivious, windows were up, I scanned the area, wiped my face (slightly gritty sensation)...tried to ignore it....more drips...suspicious dart of eyes around the area...then I noticed my arm.....I have freckles?!!! This is new, moreover I have wipeable freckles and a forearm that glistens. "A little drop of rain will hardly hurt me now" comes to mind and I know I will be humming Les Mis for the next hour. Now my companions in the back seat are aware of my situation, apparently the freckles are also on my face (not a good look) and there is a damp clingy sensation on my leg where the material has sealed itself on my ankle.

It is at this point that Dick, in the passenger seat, looks down at his smart shirt.....smattered with tiny polka dots, brown or shall I say taupe, not sure how the fashion industry would describe the look.... Not sure who is the most dismayed, he or the taxi driver who calls out an expletive (in English) and thrusts a rag in the general direction of the, now obvious, source of the flow. The dashboard is parted and jets of "water" are spraying without restraint at Dick and beyond him to me. Dick spends the rest of the journey pressing the rag (not sure of its previous use....) into the aperture, not terribly successfully, due to bumps and braking suddenly.

We arrive at our destination, thankfully not too grubby. The travellers in the second car, emerge dry, smart and amused when we recount our tale!

Not really that Sim-ple

The plan seemed straightforward enough: buy a cheap phone, purchase a Prepaid Sim card to make calls/send texts to the UK for a fraction of the price. Yes made sense really  as we come backwards and forwards to India regularly.

First get two Auto Rickshaws and get chief negotiator(dh) to agree a price. First "Auto" takes Nigel, Sue and Janet then disappears into the traffic, apparently knowing where the drop off point by the phone shop is. Second "Auto" with dh and I follows some distance behind. Second "Auto"arrives at destination,  first "Auto" nowhere to be seen.  We hover by road squinting into every "Auto" that flies by....nothing, no sign. Okay, we proceed with Plan B which is to buy the phone and Sim card, text Sue on Indian phone and find out where they are. Phone is bought, a cheap Nokia one (about £15). 


We then discover that Sim needs to be bought from a shop on the next floor, so up we go (still no sigh of the others) Sim selling shop is spotted, in we go. Man at computer desk manages to hold conversation with us whilst rarely removing eyes from computer screen before him (epic fail, I think to myself, having recently done an exercise in "listening skills"....try not to make judgement....epic fail on my part...) Sim can be bought here but will take 2 days to activate....silence....I look pitiful. Man looks up, must note my expression and offers helpful advice: "if you go to the Vodaphone shop at Vasant Vihar, they can do this for you today." Decision made, hail another auto rickshaw, drive to aforementioned shopping area, find Vodaphone shop, in we go. Sim card  sealed pouches are flashed before us,  Two forms are produced, filled in, passport and visa details entered.home address, Delhi address. Passports are photocopied, the end is in sight....um no... "We need a passport sized photo to put on the form" she says. "you will need to go to a photo booth."  "Okaaay, is there one nearby?" Apparently there is possibly one at a neighbouring shopping area, we will need another auto rickshaw..


We leave the shop undecided. For a few minutes...we walk in silence, suddenly it all seems one step too many....we decide to regroup at the hotel and meet up with the others who have ended up at a Bazaar and  bought a few bits and pieces.  Everyone seems cheerful enough, so we sample some of the Indian snacks they have bought and plan our evening meal out at "Punjabi by Nature" less than a minute from the Vodaphone shop.

 
 The assistant seems genuinely disappointed at our decision not to proceed. We'll ask Freddie's advice when we see him! The best laid plans and all that!