Agra, India

A well-needed sleep followed by a visit to the gym to work off lunch (exacerbated by the fact that these damn photos are adding 20 pounds) meant that we were prepared for the next adventure, saying goodbye to 2009 in suitably glamorous style.

We descended fashionably late at 8.15, only to find that we were amongst the first guests to brave the delights of The Gateway Hotel's New Year’s Eve Gala Dinner Extravaganza. Did they know something we didn’t?

Erected around the outdoor pool was a stage gaily bedecked with bunting, whilst in the trees fairy lights twinkled away. Tables were laid out, heaters were aflame and to the side were tables sporting bread sculptures of crocodiles, turtles and, erm, dinosaurs announcing Welcome To 2010, while elsewhere fruit carvings wished everyone a Happy New Year.

As we were shown to our table (no. 57, towards the back, by the puddings), the band – powered by a Casio organ that kept pumping out bum notes – played both kinds of music; Country and Western. A style they applied to everything they attempted, despite having an ageing Elvis soundalike on vocals. Within the first thirty minutes we were treated to Sultans Of Swing, Your Cheating Heart, La Bamba, Achy Breaky Heart and a frankly bizarre segue of You Fill Up My Senses with Sir Cliff’s monumental (and rather prescient) Bachelor Boy.

This prompted Coman to turn into Simon Cowell. "Never in the history of performance have I heard anything so risible," he declaimed grandly. “You Fill Up My Senses?!? You outrage my sensibilities, more like.” God knows where he got that from.

Sadly Dire Straits seem inordinately popular here, as Walk Of Life followed soon after, still with a country twist.

The food had an equally schizophrenic nature. A whole host of silver trays gently toasting over flames that contained myriad delights including Raost Turkey with Cranberry Suace (sic), Creole Fish (unspecified), Thai Chicken, Roast Beef Patties, Vegetable Enchiladas, Ratatouille Pie (?), Noodles and Dumplings and of course a plethora of Indian dishes. And then the dessert counter. Profiteroles, chocolate yule logs, plum pudding with brandy sauce, kiwi-fruit gateau and an Indian sweet platter.

To be honest, the whole thing felt like they’d wheeled out the wedding special and given it a tweak. All very lovely and if you’d been getting hitched you’d have been very pleased, but sat there when only about six of the 60 tables are occupied, we felt like clueless wedding crashers.

Eventually we ordered a bottle of Indian plonk and watched more bemused guests wander down. After a rather weird plate of Chinese sweet and sour starters we joined the suddenly huge queue for the buffet, only to encounter the rotund chef who stood proudly to claim credit but who, as Coman surmised on seeing his bulk, was probably just after the leftovers.

By this time the band had left and Miss Puna and Mr Ajid had taken to the stage to do some rather repetitive dancing. An aborted attempt at party games led by our enthusiastic, but ultimately doomed, hostess was soon replaced by the more spectacular 'ladies dancing with sticks’ and ‘ladies dancing with fire on their heads’.

Impressive as this was, dear Elvis wasn’t finished and returned to crank out his rightful, yet sadly flat, repertoire – I Can’t Help Falling In Love, Your Teddybear, and more. Interspersed with samba classics. Perhaps the Indian wine was taking effect but if Salvador Dali himself had appeared the evening would have struggled to become more surreal. And it still wasn’t even 10.30pm.

Thankfully sanity prevailed, they cleared the stage, a DJ set up, the dry ice started and a set of house classics started pumping out to take us to the midnight hour. Only to morph very quickly into Boney M (hostess: “Isn’t the music amazing? Let’s say hi to 2010, let’s make this moment special!”), Chaka Demus & Pliers and Ace of Base. Bizarrely this seemed to get the crowd excited and a mini-dancefloor ensued with even our supersize chef shaking his (considerable) stuff.

We ordered more booze.

And as the dancefloor swelled, the bhangra kicked in and we even got C+C Music Factory meets Slumdog Millionaire via Shakira and Usher which was pretty inspired. Although that could have been the copious quantities of wine we had sunk by this point.

Could we last til midnight? With another early start tomorrow to take us far into southern Rajasthan and the wilderness safari pleasures of Ranthambore, the need to see in 2010 was fading fast. And then Rivers Of Babylon (disco mix) was mashed into a lesser Whigfield hit.

Next stop a tent in the middle of nowhere.