Usually, they make pretty grim reading. I am not sure what category these latest bits come under.
When last we heard from her – last Wednesday – she had lost a whole front tooth, biting into something inadvisable in Nairobi.
Now read on…
Mombasa. Sharing a tiny room with a cockroach so massive I am sure I have seen it on Game of Thrones.
I know there is stuff happening right now but I am toothless in Kenya. I have aged with the sheer horror of it all. When I get back to London, I will need a good, kind dentist used to dealing with hysterical and terrified old women who can sort this out. Also I am flat broke so no stupidly expensive ones. Although they are all stupidly expensive now. Right now if Brett Kavanaugh could sort out my tooth I would vote for him. That is how desperate I am.
My giant cockroach roommate is halfway up the wall. Antennae swaying. He does not even twitch when the light goes on. But I prefer that I can see him.
Still in Mombasa. Another shambles of a day. Kenya’s Vice President is in town so no meeting of any kind allowed anywhere. Except – of course – everyone is cramming into church. I start the day with a Christianity-induced migraine as the telly in the little hotel is blasting out some shouty evangelical preacher.
My giant wavey antlered cockroach friend was found dead this morning on my floor. I am bereft. And once again alone at night.
Last night – still traumatised after the untimely death of cockroach No 1 – I arrived home after a completely FUBAR day to find two replacement roaches. One a bit dark and antlery and omescuttley, the other a delightful chestnut brown and much more charming. I suspect nut brown is a lady roach. Clit rather than cock.
Imagine my horror, after going to bed last night a happy threesome, to wake up this morning and find them dead!!
I am cursed.
I kill cockroaches.
Even nuclear war does not do that.
I am bad.