Despite the inadequacies of the accommodation, we're warming to the MTDC resort. The charm of the place is definitely in the tented outdoor area and its associated restaurant among the palm trees, so we avoid the cold-storage warehouse for all but breakfast. At breakfast the staff are intrigued at our pot of home-made marmalade which we bought at the Upper Crust expo in Mumbai. Nowhere seems to serve marmalade for breakfast so we bring our own. When we ask for knives to spread it, they're provided with retailers labels (and rust) still attached! The breakfast menu is a bit of a lottery, and it's always fun trying to work out what you're actually going to be served. It contains things like 'omelette sandwich', 'omelette bread', fried egg bread', boiled egg, toast butter' etc. Sarah tries boiled egg (no room for error there you might think) only to discover that it's three hard-boiled, shelled and halved eggs. Clive tries omelette bread, and it's a tomato/onion/chilli (masala) omelette with separate dry bread. During the meal the staff stand close by and stare intently at us, keen to understand how us westerners tackle the breakfast meal. The tea has to be ordered black, with a cup of milk ordered separately, otherwise you get pre-sweetened tea, or chai. We didn't manage to get the milk brought cold - it was always hot.

We decide to explore the furthest reaches of the beach, where a small river has created an inlet, which is almost cut off from the sea at low tide. Clive bravely wades across the raging torrent to reach the beach at the other side (he's always game for a bit of adventure) but Sarah decides against the idea as the water almost reaches up to her knees. A piggy-back is out of the question, as Clive's back isn't up to it! (Pause for slap from Sarah).

Before you know it, it's lunch time, and time for a couple of cold Kingfisher beers. We head for the tables under the palm trees, but all the usual tables are taken and we're guided to some altogether less salubrious plastic tables some metres away out of sight. "Special party" we're told by the waiter. This would also account for the presence of loungers and umbrellas on the beach. We later find out that this 'special party' is a group being taken around Maharashtra on a luxury train called the Deccan Odyssey. We wonder if they're allowed to look out of their luxury train to see the appalling squalor which is evident along the railway line in suburban Mumbai.

As it is son James' 22nd birthday today, we decide to give him a call. He's at work in his mobile phone shop in London. A colleague answers but Clive doesn't realise, and is merrily singing Happy Birthday down the phone for ten minutes until James' colleague finally manages to get a word in edgeways and informs him that James is on another call. We eventually get to talk to birthday boy, who informs us that they've got their work Christmas party tonight. We try to imagine a cold December day in London - it's difficult. We finish the day getting dive-bombed by bats, as we have a Thali dinner under the palm trees, the 'special party' having long since departed back to their luxury train.