Leaving Kullu Valley

Well, I’m being a very lazy blogger these days.  And although, it might look as if I’m on an  extended holiday,  basking in the sweet cool air of Kullu Valley, I’m actually very busy reflecting, mulling and cogitating – honest!

Every July we leave sweaty old Delhi behind and retreat to  a little cottage in an orchard   –  we stay for a month and wish it could be longer.  Our fried brains cool down and start to think clearly again; we cook, read, walk and play games.

We venture into Manali a couple of times a week to stock up or eat out but mostly just let village rhythms take over.

We do a lot of daydreaming and one of tour most frequent fantasies involves escaping the city permanently for a far-flung  Himalayan village – you know the kind of thing…

Wouldn’t it be nice to live the simple country life ?

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Blowout Sundays: Himalayan Sports Club

At the flour mill - the door to hell

At the flour mill - the door to hell

I’m living with a caveman and although I’ve yet to be dragged back to the cave by my hair, for the past few months my husband has been avoiding carbs, eating huge quantities of meat and exercising in furious bursts as if being pursued by wild animals.  It looks more like New-Man Yoga to me, but he insists he’s remaining true to his primitive man credo and in the process turning his body into a temple as he eschews sugar in all forms.

Perhaps I’m a bit unreconstructed myself, but personally I think it’s no bad thing for a man to look plumped up on his wife’s pies and cakes, but the Caveman has other ideas.  He’s been on a mission to get back to his pre-marriage sylph-like self and convince the rest of us that mashed potato is the devil’s work.
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Good Morning Batahar: Photos From Kullu Valley

Today, a snap of our Ambassador, with Caveman at the wheel, squeezing over the tiny bridge that connects us to the rest of the world.

Amby on the Bridge