Reading one of the donated books at Kassa Kunda
My foot to be precise. I just happened to kick a stone about three weeks ago and it was obviously coated with something unpleasant as it has been infected ever since. Small volcanoes of puss kept erupting in different locations around my toes. In the end I had to succumb to visiting the doc. This experience didn’t instil me with complete confidence as I had to share my consultation with a mobile phone rep who was successfully trying to sell the doc a phone in the shape of a red Ferrari which turned the consulting room into a Formula 1 racetrack every time it rang. Both myself and the rep came away satisfied, she flogged her phone and I think I was given antibiotics and pain killers, let’s hope he was concentrating when he wrote the prescription.
Apart from the foot I have also had a fatal dose of ‘ants in my pants’. I did the usual getting ready for bed, teeth, toilet and washed behind my ears (just like my mother told me) and then discarded all items of clothing around the floor (not like my mother told me). As I woke in the morning and looked bleary eyed across the room my knickers seemed to be strolling off into the distance. I had thought I’d reached that time in life and was having a funny turn but after further inspection I discovered they were covered with minute ants who obviously thought that my knickers would be a suitable offering for their queen. You will be pleased to know that I rescued them from their fate and drowned most of the culprits in my bucket. Apologies to all ant lovers and Buddhists.
Event number 3 involved my bike being temporarily stolen. I visited one of the local schools to do my lesson observations and left my trusty steed outside the headteachers office. When I returned the pink peril had disappeared. Then World War III kicked off. A teacher saw the culprit, yelled thief in Mandinka which alerted all the other teachers who came screaming out of their classrooms leaving a trail of kids in their wakes. The more agile jumped over the wall, caught the wrong doer and dragged him back. I made a quick exit with a few finger wags and left him to his fate with the scary headteacher. Needless to say I have kept it locked ever since.
On the same morning I delivered a pile of books that I brought over from my old school to Mr Touray’s little village school. The first story books they’d ever had, so well done Craneswater you have started their library. They were all very gratefully received. As we left the village we bumped into a procession led by a Corcoran covered in leaves being followed by a gaggle of drummers and all of the villagers. When I asked what it was all about the driver mumbled the words circumcision ceremony. Apparently it’s that time of year. With that we made a swift exit even though 50 year old English birds were not seen to be suitable candidates.
June’s tip for the week – Don’t leave knickers unattended overnight.
Waiting for the fish to come in
My running partner doing a spot of babysitting. No pushchairs out here.
