We came, we saw, we photographed. The famously smutty Khajuraho temple art has been sampled. And, in a word, it was stunning. Nothing short of spectacular.

I actually found myself more entranced here than by the carvings that adorn Angkor Wat in Cambodia. The work is intricate, beautiful, and dizzying. It's of the calibre where you forget you're looking at hard, unyielding stone and where you start to feel that the figures and detailing must have sprung unbidden from the material itself, rather than being the end-product of some anonymous worker's thankless slog.

That's not to say there's not some outrageously saucy action going down, of course. In this picture, I particularly like the way that one of the participants has thrown her hands up to her face in shocked surprise as the debauchery unfolds around her.

This one poor horse really takes the cake, however. I consider its plight to add new poignancy to the term 'beast of burden'!

Furthermore, the breasts depicted here leave Baywatch firmly in the shade - it's pneumatic all the way, baby.

Despite being set in somewhat manicured surrounds (a little reminiscent of a golf course), it was actually phenomenally pleasant inside the temple compound. Tranquility reigned. Indian tourists, Non-resident Indians, and foreigners all roamed from temple to temple, and a few locals sat sprawled at ease on the lawns enjoying the quietitude and cleanliness.

Inside, the temples were extremely dim, but featured yet more feats of stone-carving delicacy. In the echoey stillness there was the faintest residue of incense in the air, punctuated by the occasional cheep-cheep-scurry of whatever small animals and birds are living in there. A few scattered blossoms in marigold yellow and blood red adorned the inner altars.

Outside, one security guard was listening to HindiPop on a tiny, portable radio. Seeing Andrew take a picture of me, he wandered over and took the camera in hand to see the digital preview. 'Good!' he beamed, toothily - before plastering his radio up right next to my eardrum so that we could both groove to the tunes!

Another man approached, this time bearing an unfamiliar fruit. The size of a small apple, it was slightly rough and the palest green-yellow in colour. Smashing it open on the rump of a nearby stone lion, he offered us the the fruit in halves. It was puffy and hard and cream-coloured inside - with lots of seeds.

Nearby, an Indian family was milling. 'Guava!' called out one of the young women, shy but brave all at once.

'Oh! Guava! we responded, laughing.

The next thing we knew, I was being handed the family's baby in order to have my photograph taken. Everyone stood around cooing and cajoling the tiny precious bubba to look at the camera. Hold that baby!

All around, Indian couples in neat, knife-pleat pants (he) and gauzy, gelato-coloured saris (she) were strolling round the temples like lovers in a Parisian park.

It's true that the lewd stoneworking is amusing when you actually look for it, but mostly it's far from shocking. The sinous poses and the wild abandonment somehow just blend into the riotous cacophany of stonework without a hitch. It's all so OTT - so decadent in its detail - that the strewn limbs and respendent genitalia just form part of the overall impression of abundance.

But all in all, a wild day at the park, I'd say.