ABOUT TWENTY-FIVE years ago, we spent a short holiday in the southern hill station at Ootacamund (Udhagamandalam) in India’s Tamil Nadu state. Often called ‘Ooty’, the town is the home of one of India’s most prestigious colonial-style clubs, the Ootacamund Club, which was founded in 1841. It was there that my in-laws arranged for us to stay for a few nights. Our bedroom with a working wood fireplace was comfortable enough. It reminded me of rooms in old-fashioned hotels in which I had stayed in with my parents in the English countryside in the late 1950s.

When we stayed at the club in 2000, it seemed to be quite a ‘snobby’ or ‘snooty’ place. We were travelling with our then five-year old daughter. Apart from our bedroom, there were only two parts of the club that she was permitted to enter. One was a lobby, and the other was a children’s dining room. The latter was depressing to say the least. Because we did not want to abandon our daughter, we saw little else of the inside of the club.  The rest of the club house could only be entered by adults wearing appropriate clothing. For men in 2000, this included a jacket, shirt, proper shoes (not trainers or sandals) and tie. It seemed crazy to enforce such rules as we were the only people staying in, or using, the club  during the off-season. I wonder if these rules have been relaxed at least a little since our visit.

It was not my first visit to Ooty. My wife and I had spent part of our honeymoon there after our marriage in Bangalore in January 1994. That time, my father-in-law had arranged for us to stay in the St Margarets guest house that belonged to the company in which he had worked, ITC. Our stay at St Margarets was not without small problems, but the place suited me much more than the hallowed Ooty Club.