The Final Tablet

Perhaps I should have had more ceremony. Perhaps it should have been a lavish meal. I took the final malaria tablet. It was a simple repast.

As I was eating I wondered what it must be like to eat alone often. I rarely do this at home. The noise of four others fills out the meal usually. And it's punctuated either by the eldest wolfing down her food, while regaling us with her mind's incidentals or complaining that the middle one is lingering.

Or there's just the horror that the boy has regurgitated some clump of rice and meat. Oh it's animated.

Tonight it was just me and my malaria tablet.

Now that it's down I have to be wary for a few months at the slightest sniffle. It could be the onset of something far worse.

I wrote an email to the captain of the football team to say that I would be again available for selection from March 15.

That will be nearly two months out what with the trip to Ghana and the school holidays. Knowing my fragile frame, I'll probably do myself a mischief and be out for a few weeks as soon as I kick a ball in anger. But we must be brave.

I have resumed my training programme and so I cycled over to the radio station this morning. To embellish this resurgence I planned to stop off at the Piscine Pontoise on the way back home.

It was a mild afternoon and I crossed the river to join Boulevard St Germain just by the Assemblée Nationale. It was a pleasant ride, not too much traffic and I was able to see the posh boutiques and cafes along the route

I even stopped off at the Bang and Olufsen shop as it was advertising a sale on display items. Helas anything vaguely within my price bracket had long gone.

But I do know where I'll get my next TV.

I eventually reached the swimming pool. I read the notice that it was closed for cleaning between February 25-29. I went in and asked for a ticket for a swim.

The man pointed at the notice and of course said it was closed.

I said I'd seen the very same poster and registered the information. Sadly the twirl of foam bouncing between my ears couldn't process the data.

I'd gone through a whole day not knowing the date. What kind of state is that?

Me at the Bang and Olufsen shop thinking I could buy something. Unaware of the date. Perhaps the rambling, delusional symptoms of malaria have already kicked in.