A Night at the Savoy

A chance reference in the Times to an Indian Professor, now living in Cambridge, brought to mind a trip to India some years ago when I first met him.

Holidaying with Don meant one might end up anywhere, sometimes wonderful sometimes not.

Once we spent a week in a Maharajaha's beautiful Summer Palace, now a hotel.  Another time we stayed at Mahabalipurum near Madras.  The English Test Cricket team had just spent a relaxing week there.  The waiter showed me the bedroom where Prince Charles and Mrs. Bandaranika - former president of Sri Lanka - slept.  "Not" he added hastily "at the same time".  When I complimented the chef he took me to see his immaculate kitchen with its tandoori oven!

On one occasion we hit rock bottom.  We went by bus to a small market town.  The bus was already full, but at each stop new arrivals crowded on.  They were obviously regulars.  Don gave up his seat to an elderly lady carrying a scrawny live chicken in a basket, who fixed me across the aisle with a beady malevolent eye (the chicken not the lady).

Don went to the bank and I went to find the Savoy Hotel.  It was in a small garden and didn't look very inviting.  I booked a double room with a bath.  Don came and we went to the dining room for a pot of tea.  There were dozens of flies.  We ate dinner there sitting at a table with a checked cloth - no flies!  Don said they were all in the kitchen.  We hoped the super hot curry would counteract the germs.  Don asked for a sheet for his bed.  He was brought a checked one suspiciously like our tablecloth.

Next morning we saw the aforementioned Indian Professor come out of our bathroom.  We later discovered this was the only bathroom in the hotel!  I hope the Indian Professor does not have to share his present bathroom in England with all comers.