Monday was a day of doing nothing, Mrs Juliet came and said she'd help me buy some Saris and jewellery. She's so glad that we're here, won't shut up about us at home apparently and is desperate to help. So I issued our demands.

We demand India, right? None of this computerised plastic rubbish and bad shirts. We want artists, musicians, drama, dance and recipes!¹

She said she'd see what she can do.

Tuesday was pretty much the same, but we went to Veerambal (Kumar's native village) in the evening. I think I've worked out how I can survive without screaming on the buses - by sitting in the middle! The roads are only just wide enough to a fit a bus on so whenever the driver avoids a pothole / other bus / lorry etc, he has to go off the road, which makes you see everything from a different angle.² I spent the whole journey back from Veerambal last week with my eyes tightly closed as I prayed desperately and pretended I was on a motorway in England. The darkness didn't help, we seemed to be driving at random and I was sitting by the window so every time the bus tipped I thought it was all over. So I sit in the middle because when the bus tips over you don't notice so much.

We stayed with Pastor Muthaya Devanesam, sharing a mattress with a gorgeous furry blanket from Saudi Arabia. Kumar carted us off to the 'Posh House' whenever we needed the loo until we discovered the pastor has actually got his own toilet and we used that instead. It's a hole in the ground, shaped with cement and populated by big light brown cockroaches that scuttle away when you shine the torch at them. But it was so much more convenient.

There was a service at eleven-thirty until one, for which we wore our dhotis. They brought some chairs out for us but as no-one else had them we sat on the floor. All Tamil again and I became deeply engrossed in a grasshopper that was trying to climb the wall next to me. Its feet kept losing their stickiness and it either fell down to start again or stopped to lick the stickiness back on. My concentration was finally broken when it flew away to try somewhere else. There were some birds (black-capped tits, I thought), a squirrel and lots of mosquitoes and other insects. We had communion - the chalice had a little spout to pour the grape juice in your mouth. No contact, remember? When we went in at eleven-thirty no-one was there, but by one o'clock it was so packed there were about forty people who had to sit outside. The pastor had a service in another village at three, then at nine-thirty.

We spent the morning watching the cricket and I met another lovely girl who gave me her silver cross and said, please don't forget me. I didn't know what to do and gave her a friendship band to which she said I will keep this as a token of your love! She really was lovely though and called Priya. I don't know she must have liked my lunghi.

Most of the time we were sitting around and enjoying the cool weather. We went for a walk and I had to ask C. to slow down because he always rushes off. There's no need to, we have all the time in the world and it's all so wonderful. Everyone was working very hard in the fields and the atmosphere was just perfect. I loved every minute of it, sucked it all in and was sorry to have to return to the village for the New Year ceremony.

The whole village (except those who were working) marched to the pastor's house with music and bangers. They were supposed to be presenting the pastor with a lamp. A lamp that turned out to be a large bowl filled with fruit and garlands. At the parsonage everyone sat down and the elders presented us with garlands then took it in turns to give us fruit, namaste, then take it all back again. A real village welcome. At last. There were more songs, speeches and one old man who was so quiet all the women started talking over him. So the men couldn't hear anyway and shouted at the women to keep quiet. They got bored of shouting at each other and started shouting at the old man instead. Then they all clapped to try and make him finish and laughed when he didn't. It was quite nasty really. The village is divided politically and one of the women who spoke talked about unity in the community. This sparked off a huge argument which went on for hours afterwards.

We went to Kumar's house to play cards because you're not allowed to play games in the pastor's house. It's something to do with God and prayer, I think. Kumar's dad was so impressed with Gin Rummy (or sick of it) that he gave us his cards! Something else we can fight about when we leave.

Later on in the evening there was an Entertainments Programme featuring local dance troupe The Negro Boys who were incredibly good. They did all sorts of routines including some hilarious ones in drag. there were more speeches from a member of the village who's just finished an MCom (Master of Commerce), the DMK candidate and another 'unity' one. There were a lot of very funny ones from villagers, which was a shame because we couldn't understand any of them! They kept running up and giving money to the dancers, grabbing them halfway through a routine. A First Standard boy was doing this amazing dance and it was all they could do to stop the people mobbing him.

We sat with some new friends, including a chap called Joel who I got on extremely well with. He lives in Saudi and is doing a Tamil language degree in Madurai next year. We talked about loads of things, like superstars. They turn their film stars into heroes and everything they get up to is followed by millions. Like music in England. It took me a long time to explain that we don't know what goes on in India in England. He asked me if I knew some musician and I didn't so he asked me if I knew what a symphony was. He couldn't understand it because this bloke's had a world-wide record. India IS the world and what's important here must be important everywhere. Sorry to burst your bubble mate, but we don't know. Like you don't know who the Beatles are. Like Indians are only interested in India (most of them) and we're only interested in England. I didn't care for India at all until I knew I was coming here! Now of course, I'm loving it.

We also talked about accents and pronunciation. He asked me what's the atmussaffa in England? The what? It means situation - hot, cold. Never heard of it. It's an English word! No, it's not. He began to spell it and slowly I understood.

ATMOSPHERE! Why didn't you say so? I then taught him how to say it properly and he insisted that all Indians said 'Atmussafa'. it's the accent, he explained. Well only Indians would understand you! So I explained how Indians speak differently accent-wise but you still have to get the words right.

All in all a great New Year, and now we're looking forward to the term starting on Monday. I'm still hoping something will grab me, but if not I'm sure my music will be okay. I saw a gorgeous Indian shawl today, must buy it tomorrow.