Born in India in 1937, Michael Foss's childhood was spent between the cold, gray austerity of Britain under threat, and the brightly lit vitality of wartime India. His was a childhood spent amongst grudging and unloving English relations; a sufferance of cruelly harsh schooling, and a bleak, dark landscape. All of this was suddenly changed for the subcontinent's jumble of conflicting sights, sounds and smells: the vital, stinking, hot, noisy, crowded streets; the calm and quiet grace of mogul architecture. This is a wry, affectionate reflection on a childhood spent between two continents, two civilizations, two versions of history.