We find ourselves in Delhi now, after another overnight train trip (much more pleasant than the last since we've purchased thick woollen blankets!)

Maybe I've hit a travel slump, or maybe it's Delhi - but the city's just not working for me. We both have hideous colds and tender stomachs (very trying to deal with when the concept of the public toilet is non-existent), and the city hasn't grabbed me. It seems to lack the in-your-faceness of Calcutta, and the obvious tourist charms of Varanasi. Plus, we are staying in budget accommodation which is rather over-priced for what you get (dirty shared toilets, indifferent staff and bone-chillingly cold rooms which are deliberately light-on with the blankets so that you'll be forced to cough up extra for the establishment's 'heating charge' ...)

I knew that the hotel proprietor was dodgy when he started to try to pressure us about booking all our onward travel through him - coming up with inane stories about why we shouldn't book train tickets ourselves (rubbish!). This was only further confirmed when he burst into our room last night, brandishing a menu and shrieking, 'Dinner! Dinner! You want dinner?'

'No thanks,' I say - thinking, 'Andrew's tucked up in bed and this joker is still prancing about inside our room. Has he NO boundaries?'

'Okaaay ...' he says slyly. 'You want beer, right?!'

By this time, our tone had got downright frosty.

When I went to buy a bottle of water from the front desk, I was practically in stitches. Many basic items in India have a maximum price of sale marked on them - water, potato chips, newspapers, biscuits and so on all have the 'MRP' clearly stated on them, so that they can't be sold for inflated prices. Here, at Casa Dodgy, however, they have painstakingly RUBBED OFF the ink that's printed onto the side of the bottle, and have jacked up their prices for water accordingly.

And all this at an establishment glowingly recommended by Lonely Planet. The guidebook authors will be getting a small 'update' from us, methinks ...