They say you can’t escape the bullet with your name on it.

We sailed way out to sea on a deep sea fishing trip on Wednesday, a good hour from land, and we were trawling around some jagged rocks in the hope of hooking barracuda or kingfish, but with little luck.

Instead we threw lines overboard with tempting morsels of prawns, but the only fish that were being hooked were the fabulous species that belong in a dentist’s aquarium: beautiful white and yellow angel fish, and pretty baby grouper fish that were phosphorescent blue in the water but turned a slate grey on arrival on the surface.

The boatmen kept them all for supper including the most dangerous fish to humans, the rock/stone fish which is just loaded with poison. They only handled it with a mighty hook.

Suddenly this idyllic scene changed when a swarm of biting bees descended upon us, from neighbouring ‘bat island’. Obviously fed up with guano, they thought we might be a good alternative. The boatmen started up the motors and away we went and left the little bastards behind. BUT there was one who had my name on its calling card, and it had got into my life jacket and promptly stung my arm and left the sting behind. Now I have a huge swelling that not even the rubbing in of tamarind skin has helped.

We came back fish-less, which was disappointing. Only the boatman caught a snapper and he didn’t offer it to us, even though we had paid a fortune to go on the trip.

Nick and Katharine have been like streaks of action whizzing around. The local fixtures, the jewellery shop man, who we have bought lots of treasures from, and who we met jogging on the beach in the early morning, can tell us if Nick has headed off on his motor bike, or if Katharine has returned from the village. It is quite good really, having the village jungle drums to keep us all in touch.

Anyway the intrepid duo have driven just about everywhere on their own exploring adventures. We found them helping the fishermen pull in their nets, and now both have sore backs and bruises for their troubles.

Katharine impressed the watching crowd as she picked up four sea snakes and marched off and threw them back into the sea.  Growing up in Australia must make you mad or brave!

We hired a taxi to take us to Dudhsagar Falls, the second highest waterfall in India. It is 1,000 feet high and you can only reach it by going by jeep into Bhagwan Mahaveer National Park where there are no proper roads.

We were hurled about as we went from pot hole to big ditch. We had to give the local Vishnu priest a lift. He and his wife are the only humans who live in the forest. They are a bit like Mowgli and wife as there are monkeys and tigers, leopards and snakes all active when the tourist jeeps clear off at 5 p.m. each day.

We let him off beside his temple and he invited us to try his home made liquor, cashew feni which is distilled from cashew apples. Dear Lord, it nearly blew my head off. It has about 53% alcohol.

I duly snapped the cashews dangling from the nearby trees and then walked as light as air back to the jeep.

Finally we arrived at the waterfall, and it was absolute heaven on earth. We lay about in the water and totally chilled out with the very large fish cruising beneath us. I tried not to think about them.

From there we went to a spice farm and by this time the humidity was fierce. We walked through groves and I saw a little nutmeg growing

and cloves and was fascinated to learn how the cardamom is actually produced from pretty aerial roots that grow out of the base of the plant.

I didn’t know that vanilla is from an orchid type creeper.

We watched in awe as a fit young man shimmied up a beetle nut tree or areca palm and swung about like a monkey. Darwin would have smiled knowingly.

We did get the bus into Margao and Nick was in heaven when we went to the local market. Here was a market that sold rockets and fireworks so he bought up about forty bangers proudly labelled as ‘Indian Dynamite’.

Later, John took a picture of him in a restaurant as he gloated over his purchase, and it wasn’t until when we looked at the photos later that we noticed that he had his cigarette just over the box!

After dinner the other night we went to a quiet spot on the beach and Nick let off a few. They were LOUD and he and John were leaping about with the thrill of it all. What is it with explosives? Personally I get a thrill out of sparklers. Nick still has two boxes to go, and he has bought a big cleaver and bits and pieces of weird stuff that he needs for some project he is making back in Sydney. Goodness knows what the maid must think when she cleans their room! Also I do hope they don’t end up in that customs programme, ‘Border Control’, when they return to Australia! Katharine just carries on being happy with her henna tattoo of an elephant on her shoulder and a nice bagful of dresses, Ayurvedic lotions, throws and ordinary souvenirs. I can so relate to her!

So, the clock is ticking and we only have a few days left and we must return to the Scottish Spring.

India has been wonderful and I have loved every minute, so it is farewell to the flowers and the kites and the funny crows that John has had such fun photographing, and farewell to the beaches and birds and smells and the welcoming people.

And farewell to Nick and Katharine, we have had such a happy reunion in this exotic land.

Namaste.