It was instructive to be in India in the run-up to the  anniversary of the terrorist attacks in Mumbai. I was attending the conference of the Association of Independent Tour Operators, in Cochin, Kerala.

On my way to the airport for the return flight, I was given a gift-wrapped package by the tour rep who had organised my outing the previous day on a houseboat in the backwaters. “It’s a miniature houseboat, a souvenir of your trip,” he told me. And so it was, I discovered, on suspiciously peeling back the wrapping inside the airport.

The houseboat went through the x-ray machine without problems, but my backpack drew the attention of a security man. He wanted me to open all the pockets, and discovered a bottle of water that I had forgotten to take out. Instead of telling me I would have to dump it, as security jobsworths do in Britain, he asked me to take a few sips from it. Then he let me take it with me.

When I moved on to passport control, dropping my half-wrapped parcel on the desk while I fumbled for my passport, the immigration officer quipped: “Ah, this one’s bringing us a present.”

Why can’t they be as sensible and good-humoured everywhere?