Sunday, January 19, 2014

Notes from the smallest room

The Goan Gallop is what they call it here.  Oooops the terrible trots.  I naively thought it wouldn't happen to me as I tipped more alcohol down my throat to help down my exotic curry in this heat.  This is where you are suddenly so grateful you are in a five star hotel and, better than that, the rest of your party have gone out on a boat trip .... without you.  Why I thought I would be immune I cannot imagine as I am the sort of traveller whose alimentary canal goes into spasm anywhere south of Brighton.  Anyway, Glen the Good produced a magic yellow pill that I am assured will sort me out.  Waiting for it to work whilst reading Clare Balding's autobiog on the bog in Goa will be a lasting memory.

By the way, Goa is incredibly beautiful but you will just have to excuse me from its splendours today.

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