The overnight train from Madurai to Chennai is uneventful, and we arrive at Chennai Egmore station on time at 5.30am. The process of getting through the chaos which is any large Indian railway station is quite routine to us now, and we're in an auto rickshaw and on our way before you can say Dr Radhakrishnan Salai, Mylapore, which is the address of the New Woodlands Hotel. Our room's available and, after the usual formalities of completing multiple carbon-copied A4 sheets of information such as passport number, visa number, place of visa issue, date of arrival in India, place you've just come from, place you're going next, how you're getting there, what the driver might be called, what's your favourite make of radial tyre, etc, we catch up on an hour of sleep which we didn't get on the train.

The restaurant at the hotel is South Indian pure veg - that is to say no eggs and bacon, but also no porridge, cornflakes or indeed anything else familiar. It's breakfast, Jim, but not as we know it. We're happy with spicy food (after all, we've been eating it continuously for two months now) but we draw the line at curry for breakfast. We'll be seeking an alternative venue for tomorrow.

Today we're visiting the Royal Enfield motorcycle factory in Tiruvottiyur, a northern suburb of Chennai. Enfields have been produced in India for many years now, since the company stopped manufacturing in the UK. They're a familiar sight on Indian roads with their distinctive "old fashioned" single-cylinder beat.

A little background information is necessary here. Some weeks ago we made an application for a factory visit on the Enfield web site. The site said that tours were available on on Saturday afternoons, which fitted in well with our timetable. We received an email acknowledgement saying the a printable ticket would be sent to us. A week ago no ticket had been received, so we phoned them up. "Oh no Sir, we don't use that system any more." "Well what system do you use then?" "Just turn up at reception at 2pm on any Saturday." Although frustrated that the web site was giving out of date information, at least we now had some form of confirmation.

We check our maps and rail information, and work out the best way to get to Tiruvottiyur by train. The nearest suburban station to the hotel is Lighthouse, a 20 minute walk. As soon as we're out of the hotel gate we're assailed by auto drivers. Clive loses his cool with one who tries to tell him that there are no trains running today. "Don't talk b******s!" he shouts. Even when we enter Lighthouse station there is one auto driver willing to wait for us outside, convinced that we will re-emerge from the station shortly. Sure enough, trains are running, and we get a train to Park Town in the central city. This section of line is recently built on concrete pillars, mainly above an urban watercourse. The term 'urban watercourse' should alert you to the fact that this is in fact an open sewer and rubbish depository, and the smell is pretty appalling. At Park Town we take the short walk to Central where, after a combination of asking and scanning departure boards, we establish which platform our train will go from and at what time. Suburban electric trains in Chennai are of the same type as used in Kolkata and Mumbai, with no glass in the windows and permanently-open doors. Our ticket allows us to travel First Class, but this only means it's slightly less crowded. Clive is mesmerised by the shunting yards and complex sets of junctions around the lines in central Chennai and spends the journey hanging out of the open door with camera in hand.

Emerging from Tiruvottiyur station, we step into dusty back streets with little idea of which way to head. It's only midday so we've plenty of time before we need to be at the Enfield factory. Walking along we notice some very intricate coloured patterns drawn in the road outside many shops and houses, which we later learn are called kolams and are patterns used to indicate a welcome to visitors. We stop to take photographs, much to the amusement and enjoyment of local people, who all want to be in the photo. One kolam has the words 'Happy Pongal' written beneath it. We discover that Pongal is a festival to celebrate the harvest which occurs at this time of year. This weekend is Pongal, apparently, so as we walk along everyone greets us with "Happy Pongal!" and we return the greeting, shaking hands and taking photos. A few of the men, it seems, have been on the Pongal juice, judging by their demeanour. It's clear that the sight of two white "westerners" is one of the biggest events to hit this part of town for many a day.

Still with no real idea of where we're heading, we come to a main road junction when we're approached by two young men. "You look lost" they say "Where do you want to go?" We explain that we'd like something to eat, then go to the Enfield factory, so they show us in to a local veg restaurant where we invite them to have some lunch with us. They turn out to be Sri Ram Balaji and Sangaran Neelagontan, two local students. They explain to us all about Pongal, and answer our many questions about Tiruvottiyur and Chennai. After an excellent thali meal, including soup and soft drinks, costing all of Rs100 (NZ$3.30) for the two of us, the boys negotiate an auto to the factory on our behalf. However, on arrival at the factory gates it's immediately apparent that Pongal has struck. There's no tour today, because the factory is shut. "Come back Monday," says the security guard. "But we've been told tours are only on Saturdays," we say. "Come back Monday!" is the only answer. It's clear we're not going to get anywhere, so we hop back in the auto and head back to the station. It's been an interesting and memorable day, even though we haven't actually managed to go around the Enfield factory.

Waiting for our train on Park Town station, our presence excites a group of about ten teenage boys who surround us and want to know all our personal details. At this stage in the day Clive has taken to giving his name as Mickey Mouse and his age as 115. Sarah is a little more tolerant, but nonetheless the adulation is getting to us and we're a little tetchy. A cool darkened room is very welcome by the time we get back to the hotel! And so endeth the long story of how we didn't go round the Enfield factory.