This was a nice little interlude. The weekend breakfast was a busy affair. It was served under an awning to the side of the hotel, on only four tables, so you have to share. There was a big friendly group from Chennai – a large family and friends. One of the ladies ran an engineering firm which supplies products to the Indian Railways, and was interested in what I was doing. She thought there was scope for coupling on-board latrines and railway biogas plants, and we’ll be discussing this at a later date. She thought it was terrible that train latrines discharged onto the tracks. I was too embarrassed to admit it happens in the UK too. They all left Sunday night, so Monday was just me and the newspaper when a young Iranian bounced into breakfast, offering me some of the honey which he stirred into his milk. He refused the Indian breakfast, ‘It is like lunch’, he said - which is true.
A very open an honest fellow, he gave me his opinion of Iran, of its leaders past and present, and wanted to know what I thought of his country. It was all very enlightening. He got me to skype my friends in Gaza to see what they thought of Iran, which was equally enlightening. In between what he was doing, and what I was doing, we squeezed in a visit to the Gandhi Museum. As with so many monuments here, signposting is minimal, and on arrival we set off looking round the gardens of the palace. Twenty minutes later we were found by security and ushered to the front to get our tickets.
‘A ticket is very important’ the guard chided. All these guards, a detector to walk through; we missed it completely and they missed us!
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