I had a bath today, well that’s not quite true as Jeffers doesn’t have a bath. But it felt like one, it felt good. It started at midnight; I was ill. Not British sickness, but African. It was bigger, stronger and moved with more purpose. I don’t know what caused the problem; we suspect the chocolate. Whatever it was my body wanted it out, it wanted it out now, and it wanted it out in every possible way. The first time was okay. There were no lights as the electricity had failed, but I had filled the cistern in the day. The second time wasn’t too bad as I had also placed a bucket of water to one side. I used that to wash my clothes. But now there was a problem, I didn’t want to contaminate the water supply but placing my hand in the drum, just in case it wasn’t food poisoning. Why weren’t they home to help, where was Pauline? Midnight, 0200, 0310, 0405, 0500, 0610, it was a long African night. I was poorly, and slept in until 1030. I slept a lot that day, on the sofa, on the bed and even sat upright in a plastic chair while we were out and about. It was midday and I needed a wash, but I was tired. I moved slowly to the bathroom, the bed caught my eye, and I slept. When I woke, I thought that I was well enough to wash, but I was wrong. I couldn’t stand and instead sat on the tile of the shower floor. My back propped against the tiles on the wall and my legs extended with my feet pushing against the other wall. The small white bowl with the green rim that I had used to wash throughout the week was full and to my right and a bucket of water to my left. The wash was good, the water cold but refreshing. I relaxed with my left arm in the bucket and my right hand and wrist in the bowl. This was as good as a bath, if not better. The warm air, the cool tiles the cold water. And I had mistakenly thought that the Pantry was the coolest room in the house, it wasn’t. The shower room is the coolest room in the house.
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