Hello you lot,

Shortly after I wrote the last mass email from Delhi, I emerged from the internet cafe to witness the first hailstorm to hit Delhi in living memory. Balls of ice the size of grapes, golfballs - children were picking them up from the ground and eating them. It was wholly surreal.

Shortly afterwards we found ourselves on a cycle rickshaw heading for the bus stop where we'd leave for Rishikesh, noiselessly thumping through the potholes of Paharganj as pedestrians, motorcycles and other rickshaws swilled around us. It's a queer sensation, being on a cycle rickshaw - if you ignore the guy who's pedalling in front of you, you get the sensation of floating down the street, wordlessly parting the crowds ahead, it's dream-like.

An eight hour fight with consciousness during the bus journey to Rishikesh, in Ringo's words, 'like a spiritual butlins'. I quickly had to get over how ridiculous it might seem to be chanting 'Aum' with my eyes closed and my mind open, and generally being rather bendy and sweaty in the cobra pose, mountain pose, and lots of other asanas which don't have such a straightforward english name. I'd recommend it.

During the day it was stifling, so we spent the afternoons writing songs about flies and mountains, and visiting a massage spa. I had one Ayurvedic massage, which was pleasant but altogether unsurprising, and one Thai massage which was at points unpleasant and very surprising, but left me feeling amazingly refreshed and a bit bendier than I was before. I'd recommend that, too.

I write now from Vashisht, a small village near Manali at the northmost end of the Kullu valley in the state of Himachal Pradesh. Back in the hills, it's cool enough to go about your daily business in comfort and style*, and the mosquitos which had been plaguing me in Rishikesh are too feeble for mountain living. Opposite our spot high up on one side of the valley is an alpine scene of the highest order. The air is clean, the rooms are cheap, the food is good and the people are friendly. The local speciality is barbecued trout, and there's a short walk from our lodgings to a couple of astonishing waterfalls; we had a picnic of Yak's cheese sandwiches and mangoes there yesterday with a couple of friends we made on the bus.

Ah, the busride. From 3pm until 7:30 the following morning we sleeplessly endured an entirely new level of discomfort. At first, stifling heat. Then the sore bum. Later, the arresting electric shrine that hung before me in the middle of the windscreen, covered in green and red flashing lights. At one point, there was an Indian passenger sat beside me who had adopted the pose of 'the thinker'. He would drift off at regular intervals, and whenever the bus took a turn to the left he would lose his balance and his head would fall in a sideways arc, thus headbutting my upper arm. And everyone knows how hard it is to sleep while your arm is being headbutted by a dormant man. No?

I think we'll hang about in Vashisht and explore the Kullu valley for another week at least. There's lots to do here - rafting, trekking, fishing. Oh, and we found an English pub, where we watched the FA cup final last night. It was perfect - widescreen, sound system, pool table (reds and yellows) and other englishmen - totally surreal to walk in there from a dilapidated village road. Then on to Leh in Ladakh for the last leg of our trip north before flying back to delhi and home. Probably.

Hope you're all well, thanks for your emails, it's great to hear from you. Take care,
Nick

* I have bought some vaguely ethnic trousers. I couldn't help it, I looked too M&S, yknow? I have also aquired a simply amazing t-shirt from Delhi, apparently by Nike with a dubious screen-print of David Beckham's image, and the words 'Ride the riders, side the slid', 'He stand' and 'D&B - David Beckham'. It's quite special. Who wants one?