This week, Tuesday to be exact, I got a parasite and bacterial infection in my stomach, possibly from a paté and baguette snack I had for lunch from a street stall.
Beach Cat crawled out from his rocky hollow to have a look around, out into the mist, into the sand, felt the moist grit under his paws, the salt air in his lungs, padded out towards the sea, barely m
Every morning I go to the café and sit in the luxurious sofa chairs outside near the busy street, under small black pipes that blow a fine mist of Saigon tap water, gently into my coffee.
I remember a time and, though it was not so long ago, the world was a younger place. Mr Jones and I had found ourselves – how can I put this – on the outside of things.