Apologies for the interruption

I recognise the frequency of posts has been slowing. There are a few reasons behind this. Firstly time speeded up in June (happy to debate the nature of time, but for now just believe me). All the volunteers found that established routines and work loads, as well as an increasing number of friends and invitations, seemed to mean we were missing catching up with each other. Secondly the power and water has been in very limited supply, meaning I've been concentrating on essential living tasks rather than writing. Thirdly it's very hot so everything is slower. Finally, well that's the subject of the post.

There's a stage that toddlers go through. It's after the breast feeding and immunisations have caught the really nasty bugs out (hopefully) but essentially the immune system still has a few gaps. This presents itself in some children as a permanently snotty nose. Students repeat the process with Fresher's Flu. I feel there's an equivalent for moving to a new set of bacteria and viruses in a new country. And that's my problem.

I'm not actually ill. What I have had is a series of exciting adventures in growing white blood cells. Or at least so I hope. However, it feels a lot like a grinding, irritating but essentially mild infection. I had to miss choir and keep trying to take up every opportunity then end up spending the next day staring at the wall while I build up the energy to get water. I'm reasonably sure that the local doctor thinks I really enjoy malaria tests whereas what I enjoy is actually knowing I've not got malaria. And capillary tubes, which are used to collect the sample.

Yesterday I went back to choir practice having shaken off the sore throat element. I walked at about half my normal speed. But the earth was newly wet with rain and the air was still cool and refreshing. There was a breath of joy in my heart walking the familiar route and greeting the familiar faces. I often have headphones in on the way to practice, to keep up my walking pace and to give my vocal warm up a structure (i.e. I don't do it properly, I just sing along to some Vivaldi or Badly Drawn Boy). However on Monday I was in the soundtrack that is Africa. Several people offered me a lift, but I assured them that I was genuinely happy in the rain. "I love you" called one such man as he drove away. "thank you. That's always nice to know," I replied.

The practice was long and tiring but still exhilarating to be singing again. The walk home seemed incredibly long at half speed. But, when I finally reached my room, the air was still cool. I made hot chocolate with milk powder and a couple of my treat squares of 70% dark chocolate that stays in my fridge. When I was tired and grumbling that I was poorly as a child my gran would prescribe one key thing: "get a good night's sleep". And so I did.