Streaming.

As I sit here clutching the AGA it is near impossible to determine which is streaming most, my nose or the rain down the window pane. It is obvious that to fly any where in the world without suffering the inevitable consequence of re-breathing secondhand air, laden with more than its fair share of viruses is a near impossibility.
The sunny week in Tunisia is virtually expunged from memory, liquidated by balm impregnated tissues, Lemsip decongestants and the odd paracetamol.

Difficult to recall the wonderful and productive conversation with the camel driver in the outskirts of the Sahara, satisfying because as French was also his second language, he is the only person on the globe who speaks slowly enough for me to understand him! An occasion enhanced by a fellow travellers need for money, occasioning a trip to an ATM, on the outskirts of the desert itself. Surreal. Eating lunch in "Luke Skywalker's" house ditto, surreal.

Happily the Roman ampitheatre at Jhem has little of the crushing atmosphere of misery felt in the Coliseum in Rome, presumably because concerts are performed there, the stone is a light sunny colour and the sky was very blue.

I am also fortunate to have made the discovery that the action of fresh dates on the human gut is roughly comparable to that of syrup of figs!!

And so to bed, hot Ribena in one hand, a box of hankies in the other.