Scooting along

Today I passed the halfway mark on my first draft of my first tour. This proved to be auspicious, in the most Indian sense of the word. My phone finally began to work again after being cut off for failure to produce the correct documentation. I blamed the Imperial and badgered their concierge in Delhi every few hours to correct their error. It was my last attempt, and was becoming resigned to the fact that I'd have to run around looking to get another passport photo. No photo, no sim card. Not to mention payment for set-up costs and a new number.

I also got connected to broadband, allowing me the luxury of sharing more than one image at a time. Lea Demarbaix, a wonderfully wise French woman I had the good fortune to meet in Jaisalmer, told me there are three things to know about India. The best smells, the worst smells, and the most extraordinary colour. She was right about all three.

My work today flowed. And I don’t underestimate the fact that it was helped along by the fact that I was working in an extraordinarily beautiful part of the palace – the ceramics gallery. Incidentally, as in English, the word china in Hindi refers to the country as well as ceramics. The room is covered in tiles from China brought over by the Portuguese, interspersed with a bit of Christian iconography and a few pastoral scenes from Delft. The coloured-glass comes from Belgium and the view beyond is pure Udaipur. Distant hills shrouded in haze. This is the ceramic ceiling with a mirror in the shape of a cross. I think that's just a design thing. Nothing to do with crucifixes.

Maybe it's because I’ve always been here in the heat, but it seems everything in India – or at least in North India – is in soft focus. The birds, the sky, the trees and the horizon.

As usual, I spent my spare time with Ambika at the Palki Khana. She arranged for her niece to take me into town so I could find the fine block-printed cotton coloured in vegetable dyes. It's so thin and soft, it feels like air. Sorry to go on about the heat, but I desperately need thinner clothes. Along came Padmina – named after the legendary queen of great beauty, and thankfully a familiar name – who drove me to the Cotton Plaza on the back of her scooter. Ambika approved of the price I’d paid, as did the tailor. I gave him a sample of one of my most comfortable tops, and two sleeveless long shirts - or short dresses - will be ready for me tomorrow. They can also go through the wash a few times over here, before bringing them back to run riot in my washing machine at home.