munnar tea stations, high in the hills. this might have been a bit of a mistake as it has rained constantly for days. apparently the view from our hotel across the tea plantations is amazing – if only we could see through the mist. very atmospheric but very wet. considering the torrential rain and looming misty cloud, i was obviously quite happy to hear that the town in which we are staying is host to a famous old gentleman’s club where apparently one can while away the afternoon playing snooker, sipping a gin and tonic, surrounded by hunting trophies. i’m an english gentleman – i thought. so with a hop, skip and a rickshaw ride, we were there – the high range club. i confidently approached the golf sweater wearing manager and, with my best public school english, enquired as to whether we may avail of his facilities. he took a cursory glance at me and said no. i wasn’t wearing shoes. “but… but i’m english”, i thought, looking down at my flip flops. then turned around and left muttering to myself about golf clubs and jeans.