[About three in the afternoon]
I’m drinking coke now like that bloke who put his wife in the swimming pool in Cocoon after she was dead. We’ve got the shits. We were coked out yesterday, both with sugary, ‘clacky’, mouths. (With this in mind, you might be surprised how little alcohol has to do with a hangover. Drink a load of coke and see how spritely you feel.) So, we skipped our dinner cokes and are now paying the price. [At the beach the urge took me over,] I came as quickly as I could home, which is not super quick with all the kids on the street. I nearly became undone at the last minute; my wet swimming string that held my trunks up was hard to undo. I nearly shit my knickers.
The rest of the day was normal. Andrea taught me how to surf, I took some pictures, and we had no change for a doughnut from a beach hawker so he gave us one each, ‘Insha’Allah’. In a clumsy act of reciprocation I tapped my heart and said, ‘Insha’Allah’ (I later hunted him down and gave him the 10 dirhams).
While Andrea was surfing, I started on Silence of the Lambs. Andrea is now on the couch, 100 pages ahead of me… is it wrong to tear a book in half, like that ancient king suggested two fighting parents should do to their baby?
