Ick

I had a good evening yesterday: met up with an old friend who has just moved to this city and was able to show her some of the sights before going to my favourite restaurant.

But at 3 am, it was a different matter, and I found myself, as they say, talking to God on the great white telephone. ‘Orrible stomach cramps rather impeded my attempts to get back to sleep.

On top of all that, I had a very important meeting at 0930 (with Alexander Downer, who will be known to Australian readers if not to many others). My desperate emails asking if the meeting could be postponed received no reply, so I struggled to the vertical position and arrived at the UN compound half an hour late. Downer took it in his stride, but I was rather mortified.

I came back to the hotel and have been in bed ever since. My dinner companion of last night – who like me had the excellent swordfish at El Sabor Latino – is in perfect health, so I must simply have been unlucky with the water or something.

I called this evening’s dinner companion to cancel our arrangement, and asked whether he thought I should try sweating it out at a hamam (Turkish bath). He said it certainly wouldn’t do any harm! But I then found I didn’t really have the energy to even walk round the corner to the nearest one.

Well, rest and cups of sweet black and/or herbal tea are probably all that I need. Home tomorrow, all being well.

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