V: Mosquito Wars

I am winning the battle of the mosquitoes. The Nazi bastards have been victorious up til now, but I have develop’d some new techniques. At first, I would set up a safe defensive position under my net, only venturing out for some ‘zapping’ with my heaviest book. It is very dispiriting to look at their ‘splats’ & see your own crimson life-force sprayed across the wall. Now I have taken to using the net as a, well, net & catching them in it  – very effective.

I am currently nestled amidst the rooftops of Fort Cochin, an old Portuguese enclave & very pleasant indeed. Yesterday was more like a typical English Sunday, reading the Hindu times, drinking tea & watching cricket in my hotel – England levell’d the series much to the annoyance of the staff (buzzin!) with a lad from Devon & a lass from Milton Keynes (poor thing).

A couple of days ago I was walking thro’ a jungle town (very cool) & walk’d past a large group of village lads playing footy. I was soon barefooted & joining in, playing in defence with an occasional Sol Campbell run into the goal-scoring area. My fellow defenders were three coconut trees (as the rest of my lads were all strikers) & we did well to shut out the other side (despite our goalie also being a striker) & win 3-0. After the match I shook about thirty pairs of hands (the game had drawn quite an audience).

One more crazy coincidence. I blagg’d a spliff of an old, bald Swiss guy back in Baga & last night, after 5 days without a smoke (quite a trippy experience actually) lo & behold he was on my hotel’s rooftop terrace. After nearly losing two fingers in a fan (fucking painful) he gave me a bit of weed (no pain no gain) & I had my first spliff – it’s safe to say I was soon suitably stoned & swaying,

Fort Cochin

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