95/60

I went to the clinic to try and get some antibiotics to calm my stomach down. The Cuban doctor who runs the show said I looked weak, which is understandable as I can’t retain much within the body. My blood pressure reading was quite low and I was dehydrated, so whilst he ran tests for malaria and typhoid, I found myself in this back room of the clinic, attached to a drip.

As the nurse was inserting the cannula, and making a bloody mess of it, she was asking me to offer a work opportunity to her 23-year old son, who can’t find anything. I’m not sure it’s quite the right moment to ask for favours, when you’re attaching someone to a drip.

Eventually the doctor emerged and announced the test results had been negative and it was a stomach virus. I got some medication, was told to stick to soft, plain foods, and was on my merry way. Imodium is the Antichrist but I should have just broken my lifetime boycott and swallowed a handful of them to save myself the hassle and 100 dollars.

On the subject of soft foods, my baby niece tried houmous today and it went down well. She’s metropolitan elite.