My last column was about my recent trip to India and the UK.

I was accompanied by a friend of mine, Bruce Donnachy, on the Indian leg, so he could have a look at the orphanage the coast built, and then I went on solo to London to see my son and his girlfriend.

Now I mentioned last week about a dancing cobra, an elephant and a fortune teller, which all occurred on our last day in India. To explain it is a bit like that movie The Bucket with Jack Nicholson.

As I get older I just want to tick a few more boxes before I kick the bucket. So with the heart-warming trip to the orphanage and a few dramas along the way completed, and the trip nearly over, I set about that task.

First I wanted to see a snake charmer and then ride an elephant. The fortune teller was sort of a coincidence.

On the last day of the trip we were in a beautiful part of northern India called Jaipur. It was there that we decided to go in search of a snake charmer.

We found a dodgy cab driver who said he could help us, so off we went down some seedy-looking streets and ended up at an old shop with an alley behind it.

The driver told us we had to wait for the snake charmer because it was an actually illegal activity in India.

Now if he had told us that at the start of the day, it wouldn’t have worried me. But as I stood at the entrance of a seedy alley that looked like something Charles Manson would emerge from with an axe, I started to have second thoughts.

“Oh well, we’ve come this far.”

Eventually, the “charmer” turned up, but not before I had bought every souvenir the hawkers badgered me with while we waited.

Actually, if you turn up at any local markets on the Coast over the next few weeks and see a fat guy selling cheap Indian souveniers, guess who it’ll be?

Anyway, my snake phobia was certainly cured, as was my mate’s, as they wrapped us in a python while the cobra danced its way out of the basket. Freaky, I know, but as far as I was concerned the box was ticked.

I got a bit closer to it than I really wanted to and hadn’t factored in a cobra’s bad breath as something to worry about. Who would?

On the way back, lo and behold, we came across a guy giving elephant rides. So even though it may have been difficult to separate who was the jumbo, that was another box ticked.

While I was having my ride, the guy asked whether I liked elephants. Of course I told him they fascinated me so he said for another 200 rupee (about $6 dollars) I could come around to his house, where he had eight others living with him. For me, though, one was enough.

So with the two boxes ticked we retired for a cold beer.

Enter the fortune teller ... snake-skin shoes, pencil moustache and white belt. He was all class.

My mate Bruce was keen as mustard. I, on the other hand, have always been concerned about the possibility of hearing news of something bad on the horizon that I didn’t really need to know about.

Bruce jumped in and straight from the start the guy nailed his personality, as well as his lucky number colour, favourite animal, etc. It was quite incredible.

I am a cynic but when old mate said that Bruce had a tendency to blow up if things didn’t go his way, I was reminded of a recent incident with a taxi driver. He had me hook, line and sinker.

So I had my go and he hit the mark with me as well.

He finished up by giving me a magic rock because I was special. He also told me to hang onto it and the next Friday night after 9.30 something special would happen to me.

I forgot about it until I returned to Australia and was unpacking and found it. “Yeah right”, I thought, nothing happened.

Then I remembered that the Friday in question I was in Leeds watching Melbourne lose the world rugby league club challenge.

But what was I doing after 9.30? I was at the team hotel having a drink with a few Storm staff and was introduced to Roy Masters, the great rugby league writer and ex-coach who is someone I’ve always wanted to meet.

We talked for about an hour, which fascinated me and probably bored him.

Fortune teller, tick.