Rob,
That was one hell of an excursion down lanes long gone. That India exists no more. You may well have seen an Ooty few Indians alive today have seen.
I believe you; it was a great place, Ooty, if you were not a kid trappd in a school, had pots of money and liked racehorses and Toda buffaloes. We used to do an annual cross-country race (on foot) up Dodabetta (?) which was over 8000 ft. There was a wooden hut on that mountain called The Sheilling, and we used to go up and smoke cigarettes we'd manufactured from old ones... ye gods! There used to be a shop there in Ooty called Spencers, which would take orders from other parts of India and we kids could collect delights from the local branch, courtesy our parents.
Then, at the end of the year, it was the train down to Mettapalayam and the night train to Madras, where we'd spend the day and catch the night train towards Calcutta. Last time there, I bought a monkey in a market in Madras and thought I was going to take it home. It spent its time sitting up on the luggage rack of the compartment, snarling at us. I abandoned it in the train - terrified of rabies. Had I had any sense I would have had that thought before I parted with a couple of Rupees! My wife didn't know about this until after we were married; I think she might have preferred to know first, but there you are, you should never show all your cards right away.
Rob C
