After leaving the rat-temple it was off to another bush-camp. Having left the flat arable lands that dominate the landscape further to the south and moved into the desert there was a faint hope that camping would be easier. A hope that was dashed forthwith with the arrival of yet another sand-storm and its accompanying sound-and-light show. So having once again abandoned my mosquito net to the elements and dived for the tent, yet another more-or-less sleepless night passed in an otherwise uneventful fashion.

The next day was a passing visit to Bikaner, where I needed to shop (my turn to do the group cooking) and Thai-chicken-curry was on the menu. Of course that means buying chicken which, in turn, means venturing into bird-flu land. After a prolonged sojourn around Bikaner Bazaar we located said bird and watched as it was hauled kicking and screaming (well ok clucking) from its cage and summarily beheaded, plucked, gutted and handed to us in a carrier bag whilst we sat by and drank Masala tea (which is very nice by the way). Proof once again, if we needed it, that this ain't Tesco. I willingly hold up my hand up and admit that I didn't do this deed myself and, as someone from the shrink-wrapped generation, this was not an altogether palatable experience. I am coming to think however that, if you are going to eat meat, there is something important about knowing what it really means to be a carnivor. Food for thought.

Our other reason for visiting Bikaner was the fort. This is another dominatingly impressive building that, to be honest, in the heat and after the lack of sleep and having just sentenced a chicken to death I couldn't be bothered with. Impressive though it undoubtedly was it was too big to trawl round in the time we had left and so it was back in the truck once again and off to our next bush camp somewhere between there and Amritsar.