Tippoo's tiger is an automaton, combining movement with two windpipe mechanisms. It also contains a manual organ. The crank on the animal's shoulder turns a shaft within the body. A wire connects to this shaft, which passes down from the tiger between his fore-paws into the soldier's chest, where it works a pair of bellows, forcing air through a pipe that exits through the soldier's mouth and emits a whistling wail.

The siege of Seringapatam was such a pivotal point in the career of my hero the Duke of Wellington, that to bypass the opportunity to visit the walled city, with its mosque and dungeons would have been a serious dereliction of duty.

As usual, when we arrived in Mysore as is our practice in any new location we searched for an inexpensive but comfortable hotel. No more than $15 a night is our rule and by using suitable references like the Lonely Planet guides it’s normally possible to find family run hotels with adequate facilities. By doing this we are generally able to meet the owners in person and get a real feel for the locality.

We spent the first two days exploring the city and diving into the chaos of street markets which is a real entertainment in itself. It’s a great way of stocking up on silks, spices, brightly coloured powder paints, statues of Ganesh the elephant God and generally bargaining for things I never knew I needed only five minutes before the smiling people welcome you into their stores promising that “you are comings only to looking sir”.

I love this aspect of Indian culture, and know that even when I strike the hardest bargain I can on the treasured items that will now enhance my life I’m still paying more than I should. But the entertainment value is impossible to measure. The innocent charm and wonderful impish sense of humour of Indian people is intoxicating.

In the evening we visited the Maharaja’s Palace after a world beating vegetable curry which cost all of $4 each. The palace is set in a rare expanse of well tended lawn with gravel drives and flower beds that were well laid out but lacked the essential ingredient of flowers of any description. What the palace gardens did not lack though was people. Hundreds had come to play games on the grass or just sit with their family and friends enjoying the wonderful sight of this splendid palace which is illuminated each Sunday evening with thousands of light bulbs outlining every feature.

A charming addition to this precious event is the uniformed band, who at the request of the Maharaja, play their hearts out to entertain their fellow citizens for free. Missed notes and a sometimes ponderous rhythm do not detract from the magic at all. In fact and with the greatest respect to the Mysore band, it reminded me of the school concerts we attended when our children were young, when I remember anxiously sitting forward on our chairs, willing them to hit that note and keep in time. The spontaneous applause from the crowd at the end of each tune was heartfelt and enthusiastic and we clapped with the best of them. It was an enchanting evening.

We walked back to our hotel in the warmth of a Southern Indian evening, dodging the traffic and smiling continually, replaying the concert in our minds and looking forward to the next day’s visit to Seringapatam.

A huge advantage for the traveler in India is the fact that taxis are available for hire by the day at no more than about $20 and our hotel owner arranged for a “cousin” of his to meet us at 8.30 in the morning after our traditional breakfast of “toast - butter and chai (spiced tea), sugar separate”.

Harish greeted us outside the hotel at precisely 8.30 having been waiting I’m sure, for at least 30 minutes and made us completely comfortable in the back of his vintage Ambassador Taxi. It was proudly decked out with net curtains and good luck charms, but no air-conditioning apart from a window that was broken in the open position. This was true luxury for us. Seriously, I love this charming aspect of Indian life.

There seems to be only one law of the highway in India. If the car, lorry, camel, herd of goats, or even elephant coming towards you looks like it will kill you then give way. Any such manoeuvre can utilise all available space including grass verges and especially the other side of the road which is a favourite. Indian roads in a strangely perverse way can be a great source of inner peace for the traveler because to venture onto them more than once involves a serious resignation to your fate. Why worry? Nothing you can do bar jumping out of the taxi or rickshaw will change things anyway.

Once we had settled into the journey and stopped pushing down with our feet on imaginary brake- pedals as Harish veered towards 60 miles and hour, it was quite enjoyable and Mary-Anne and I settled down to enjoy the scenery of our 40 minute journey.