My first diary entry of the day was written in the angriest implicative tone of voice possible...
'Alicia has lost our first aid kit, I still have the drugs (paracetamol etc.).
We both have sore feet and need plasters!'
It is followed rather quickly with a sense of self congratulation,
'All is fine, I found it on the bed after all.'
After this minor fiasco we take our usual walk into town with the relentless rickshaw drivers and tour guides snapping at our heels the whole way. The sun is sweltering and I feel much like a shrivelled tomato worthy of a Mediterranean dinner.
Happy Birthday Tom Bristow x
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