So, since my supervisor has gone off on a 3 week long holiday, leaving me bereft and without work, I suppose I have run out of excuses to update this blog. Sorry.

So to pick up where I left off. This has been (so far) a beaut summer in Gizzy.

 We’re drinking heaps of Gizzy Fizzy and Sweet As (local bubbly at £5 a bottle – we’re now addicted, possibly in the strict medicolegal sense), and going surfing as often as humanly possible. We’ve been put off by a cold (joint) over the last weekend but before that the most number of surfs we racked up was 3 days in a row, followed by a 1 day break and then another outing. It’s just so much fun! Our surfboard is so big it’s basically a boat, so standing up is easy. Have graduated from watching endless snowboarding videos to watching endless surfing videos, along with looking up all-inclusivesurf holidays in Costa Rica. If anyone wins the lottery and fancies buying me an early birthday present, this would be just fine.

(basically a pro surfer)

Despite this inhuman amount of exercise I have eaten so many Christmas pralines, pudding, cake, panettone, stollen, mince pies, and then in a fit of insanity, an entire batch of pretzels which I made last week, that I am still sporting a post Christmas paunch which, handily, makes me quite buoyant in the water.  Tim rearranged our cupboard when I was out so I returned to the spectre of an entire SHELF of Christmas related snacks which I’d hidden away cunningly in other parts of the cupboard. When displayed like that all at once it was somewhat shaming.

 Climbing up the wharf in Tolaga Bay with a belly constructed entirely from Christmas carbs.

We’ve met up and made friends with the Gizzy RMOs who are no longer disconcertingly shy around us. In my first conversation with one of the first years, she replied to everything I said with, “that’s so fascinating”, which I know for a fact is a lie. This is a first year who was interested in ophth and therefore devastatingly polite and interested in everything I said. Luckily she has now got over it and we have normal human conversations.

The lead-up to Christmas was manic in the eye department (and by eye department I mean, me, Graham, Debbie). Graham did 4 extra lists, we came in at all hours to see post ops. The good thing was that with all these extra lists I’ve progressed in the theatre stakes. Yes, I have now completed my first INTRAOCULAR procedure, which was a highly tame IA (removing the viscoelastic from the anterior chamber after intraocular lens insertion - don’t ask, I tried explaining this to Tim, it took 15 minutes and 3 diagrams and Tim had to go and have a lie down in the middle) using a little hoover I was operating with my feet. My feelings about this: the eye – surprisingly roomy. I also did my first intraop Avastin . My feelings about this: the eye – can be surprisingly soft. I also chose the day that Graham chose to teach me to do IA to forget to bring socks to the operating theatre – embarrassing. A good ophthalmologist remembers their socks. My feelings about this: OT floors – surprisingly sticky. Also, moment of huge awkwardness as Graham tried to get me to jump on his chair (fully scrubbed) and manoeuvre myself towards the patient. Me: “Graham, this chair is far too high” Graham: “no you just need to move forwards.” (Graham repeatedly attempts to push me forward) Graham: “something’s in the way, it keeps hitting the table.” Me: “Graham, that’s my legs.” Graham: (long pause) “you’re shorter than I imagined.”

Otherwise, great fun. Easier than I’d thought (and worried about) and I enjoyed wiggling the little probe about doing as Graham suggested (“tap the lens” “burp the capsule” “be brave with the vacuum”). All too soon it was time to relinquish my throne. Boo hoo.

The next list was a set of lid surgeries – also lots of fun, and I got to do a lateral canthoplasty and some extremely agonised suturing with some 7/0 vicryl (“for God’s sake Connie I want to leave this theatre before Christmas. It’s only skin and he’s completely wrinkled anyway.” Patient: “I am quite wrinkly.”) And then it was HOLIDAY!

We had a lovely Christmas Day – neither of us working, which was quite blissful, and obviously we celebrated by going out surfing, having too much fun, and returning far too late and completely ravenous. We ended up by having Christmas lunch around 4pm at home (roast pork and crackling, the works), which, in hindsight, was an error as we’d been invited round to have Christmas dinner with Tim’s GP supervisor at 6pm. Tim to my shock and awe put away 2 helpings (roast pork and crackling redux). I ate what can only be described as an unhealthily large portion but our hostess still looked concerned and asked me if I was feeling unwell as I “didn’t seem as hungry as usual.”   Had to get Tim to help me with dessert – the dear boy was indefatigable. This may have been the first time in history that Tim has eaten more than me at dinner.

Tim got a ukulele for Christmas, by the way, to add to the stock of things we were clear we would Not Buy in NZ since we were NOT accumulating so much STUFF this year, including tennis racquets, wet suits, and a bistro set.

Boxing Day was relaxed, though RUINED by how rubbish Doctor Who was. Deeply disappointed. Skyped folks at home, was smug about general niceness of weather here. Then we went away for the w/e to see Sarah’s folks in Napier, who own a vineyard, like everyone else in Napier. We ate an insanely large amount of food, drank a stupid amount of wine, and then were generously loaded down with bottles to take home and consume. Fun tip for everyone – do not go to a winery for breakfast. It’s just a bit too much.

Looking wan and interesting at a winery for breakfast. We did not have any wine.

Last week, I did some locums in ED, which were unbelievably cushy. ED here is a dream. I also happened to be on with some docs who really didn’t like kids, so I got to see all of the kids.

Them: “soo…..there’s 2 patients waiting, one is an alcoholic, depressed 17 year old who’s just OD’d on some methamphetamine and there’s also a 4 year old….with some kind of ear problem oh god I hate looking in children’s ears, will you take it?”

Me: "SOLD”

I also got to do some suturing with 4/0 prolene which was SO MUCH FUN. HUGE NEEDLES!!!!!!! It’s like a child’s suturing kit! Needles which you can see without a microscope! Everyone mocked me but I maintain those needles are unnaturally large. Cannot really remember when I used a 1/0 in O&G. 1/0 prolene! Madness.

ED was quiet despite R&V being on (which I’ll get to, be patient) but there was a variety of minors (which I like as an ED locum – fill my day up with minors and pay me) all beginning with, “fell over in moshpit…”. My favourite R&V related injury is still the Listerine kid. Did you know that Listerine contains methylene salicyclate – the most toxic form of salicyclates? It’s like drinking a bottle of aspirin. Kid was fine, apart from the ignominy of everyone in the department asking him if his breath was minty fresh.

SO.

R&V.

For those who don’t know, R&V or Rhythm and Vines is NZ’s biggest music festival – the biggest thing on the NZ social calendar basically. Last year over 30,000 people descended on Gizzy, which is INSANE for a town of this tininess and general backwateryness. This year they capped numbers at 25000 but town was still absolutely rammed. It’s a festival amongst the vines with lots of international acts (none of whom I’ve heard of) and general jollities. 

Fun amongst the vines

Tim and I went for all 3 nights and danced our little hearts out, drank a lot of red bull, dressed up briefly as a pirate (me – Tim wore a frilly green shirt which I maintain was a mistake, it was not quite obviously fancy dress enough to be taken as fancy dress but could instead have just been quite a poor fashion choice – especially given he wore it with completely normal other clothes. He got the gentlest heckle ever – “mate, this isn’t ballroom dancing you know” and a lot of pitying looks), drank chai in the chai tent, lay down in the hammocks, and generally had a wonderful time. So now I can say I’ve done the whole Huge Party At New Year’s thing, and can happily move on. Boy did I feel old.

a Very Young person, almost certainly under 21 and behaving like a 14 year old. One of many to be seen descending the Fruju slide. 

New Year's Day itself is a big occasion in NZ and we enjoyed some riverside fireworks on our balcony. This photo was taken with a 15 second long exposure and I love it. I now understand fully why the Victorians looked so serious - their photos took minutes, and no one can hold a smile for that long. NO ONE.

This weekend we’ve had colds so the surfing has been on hiatus (boo boo double boo) but today felt well enough to go to Tolaga Bay and check out their historic wharf – the longest in…the Southern hemisphere? Somewhere, anyway. It’s 660m long and was built in 1929 and when we saw it we knew we had to jump off it.

So along with 1000 kids (we were by far the oldest) we took the plunge. It was delicious. 

look at that happy face

easily satisfied

I did it 3 times

 and Tim only did it once because he was a wimp. 

Near us on the wharf was a little girl who clearly really really wanted to do it but was too scared to and was therefore extremely grumpy about it. She kept on lingering near the edge, looking down, and then as soon as her parents suggested she might want to jump, bursting into tears and hitting them – then looking down over the edge hopefully as soon as they weren’t looking. She never did go for it, though her older sister did.

After plunging, we did some boogie boarding. Did I mention we bought some boogie boards? To add to the number of things we weren’t going to buy this year. (Tim: “I’ve told Renee we’ll buy her surfboard off her when she leaves.”)  Boogie boarding is like a gentle version of surfing – it’s easy to catch green waves on a boogie board without nose diving and ride it all the way in to shore. Bad things about boogie boarding – because you’re lying down in the waves, the danger of your pants being pulled down and your top being pulled up is shamingly high.

In summary, from New Zealand:

Chill out. Catch some fish.

Love
Connie

Considering this blog is called 'a way to keep in touch'

I have been doing a remarkably poor job of it.

So it's another beautiful day here in Gizzy to welcome in the New Year. We've been to R&V (and partied on down with Kim dot com....surreal to say the least.) I've worked a couple of locums in ED and become reacquainted with parts of the human body not involving the eyes (surreal. More surreal), and saw the R&V fallout including a young man who thought it would be a good idea to drink a bottle of Listerine, and then took some penicillin 'because I thought it might help.' We've been surfing (and munched by the waves), we've been kiting (and munched by the wind), and generally munched our way through the farmers' market every Saturday. And I still have no photos.

New Year's resolution: take more photos.

love to you all folks, and a happy 2014
xxxx

Scorchio

Another scorching day in Gizzy.

I haven't been updating very much, sorry about that - and it's not like I'm working a full-time job (har har har) so I don't really have any excuse. We've just been settling in over the last few weeks and things have been ticking along just fine, slightly hampered by the OVERWHELMING HEAT which basically leaves me paralytic as soon as I leave the apartment/switch the air con off/move even slightly. Cycling to work is a sticky, sticky trial. My poor patients.

Another reason for not updating is because I don't have many photos - because Gizzy is such a small town it feels quite intrusive to take a camera with me anywhere. I've been waiting to accumulate some, but I've given up. You'll just have to imagine it for now.

So, ophthalmology.

This has been an extremely steep learning curve, and I am extremely grateful that I've got such an easy ride - plopped into a department used to juniors with no experience and with a consultant for direct one-on-one teaching all the time. The only bad thing is that there are no other juniors, of course, so from a morale point of view it's distinctly depressing being the person who knows least and with no one else to commiserate with. Still, I am now no longer trembling with terror at any procedure (tremor: not a Good Thing for an ophthalmologist. True story) and I am sailing through my sub-tenons blocks in theatre now (warning to non-medics: links may suddenly catapult you into a world of gory eye pain) and did my first Avastin injection today. I was also forced into being the scrub nurse for a morning of cataracts and it left me with a deep, deep gratitude for everything those angels in blue do for surgeons. And with a renewed appreciation of exactly how messy doctors are and how much time other people spend cleaning up after them. I don't think it's a coincidence that so many nurses who work closely with doctors (i.e. scrub nurse, clinic nurse etc) are mumsy or dadsy types. Doctors need parental supervision when they play with their pointy toys.

And aside from work, it's all been lovely. We're sort of in-between socially - we're both a bit separate from the house officers, and there are no other registrars in Gizzy - so we've been sort of promoted up the social age ladder to socialising with all the consultants and their families. This means basically that we are fair game for their 1000000 children and Tim got quite fairly tackled when he got into the pool at the theatre party by 2 small girls who decided he was perfect to ride on. Tim emerged with a certain amount of bruising and a fair amount of PTSD but I think he loved it.

That's the other thing here - everyone has ridiculous houses, ridiculous grounds, surrounded by orchards or vineyards, everyone has a pool, and why not a tennis court while you're at it? Land is cheap here because it's so far out - when Tim and I went to the local cinema (we were watching the National theatre's 50th anniversary documentary and were 2 of 4 people in the whole cinema) the lady in charge said, "you're doctors, aren't you? I knew you were doctors. People your age don't want to move to Gisborne, usually. It is so quiet." The local cinema, by the way, is bloody incredible - they serve pizza and beer in the intermission and you sit on enormous, incredibly comfortable bean bags to watch the film.

Not that we're going to be spending much time indoors. Right outside our apartment is the river, and last week Tim and I jumped in and swam from our front door right to the sea- about 1km, but easily carried by the current. Just in front of the beach are tennis courts with a pretty heavenly view, and we've also been paddleboarding and snorkelling so far. We've also joined up to the Arboretum - which is a huge tree park just north of Gizzy - which we went to last time we were here. It is wonderful - shady and beautiful and, like so much of New Zealand, very, very quiet - hardly anyone else there at all. It's like having your own private wood, filled with birdsong. And also, very loud, amorous frogs.

So things are going well. I've started having nightmares about specialty applications, but it seems so far away from this distant, sunny corner of the globe...................................................

First kite-surfing lesson of the summer

And I got completely pulled off my feet head first into the beach. I now have a new appreciation for helmets.

Today we also went wine tasting and to the farmers' market, where we got about 1kg of free peaches. I have no idea what to do with them. Peach cobbler?

On Friday I walked around town and introduced myself to all the optometrists in town. There are three. They were all excited to see me. I explained gently that I knew nothing about anything and therefore could not help them in any way, ever. They were all very nice about it. We parted with mutual affection.

On Thursday I saw my first eye patient and dictated my first eye letter. Hurrah!

On Wednesday I scrubbed in and helped repair a globe laceration (someone who got punched in the eye on Friday, ruptured his globe but thought he'd try and sleep it off through the weekend. New Zealand men are tough. And perhaps insane.)

On Tuesday I realised just quite how little ophthalmology I know.

And that takes us back to Monday.

I leave you with the view from our apartment. So far it's been an edifying week.

Gizzy fizzy

Hello hello from Gisborne (motto: "the New Zealand of New Zealand.")

We've been here for 2 days and I love it so much. SO MUCH.

Much has occurred. I will be brief. In summary:

1) I arrived back in the UK from Ghana
2) I took many, many hot showers
3) There were no cockroaches
4) I was generally happy and ate a lot of food not involving fufu
5) I sorted out my NZ visa, which involved a very happy Kiwi called Dave in Immigration who was cheerful as, in stark contrast to the Brit manning the reception desk at New Zealand House.
6) We flew to NZ in the midst of unrelenting hail and misery in London
7) We got to NZ in 30 degree blazing sunshine

The first leg of our flight was on Virgin. Now, those of you who know me know my unrelenting hatred and general bias against Virgin for reasons too long to enumerate so I shall restrict myself to saying I was unbearably smug at just quite how bad the Virgin leg was. The sound system didn't work so it varied between unbearably loud and crackly to inaudible on any given announcement. The TV screens were epileptically flickery. The listings for the movie channel was wrong (devastating Tim, whose only joy in life at that moment was to watch the Alan Partridge movie - listed but not in fact shown), and the comedy channel had no sound. The food was really, really bad. In their defence, their staff were very, very lovely and I could hear them apologising mellifluously to passengers continuously through the flight for everything that was going wrong, something at which they seemed practised.

The Air NZ flight, on the other hand, was bliss in a bucket. And they had a new safety video out! It wasn't very funny but they tried hard, the sweet loves.

In conclusion: I love Air NZ and feel you all ought to fly with them, everywhere, ever.
The end.

So we arrived in Palmy on Friday and it was so nice seeing old friends, and also popping into see Penny, the amazing admin who helped us so much when we were organising jobs in NZ. I'd bought her a hunky firemen calendar (which took a lot of searching for, believe me, plus unwilling Tim in tow "I don't want to be here while you're buying that. Do I have to be here while you're buying that? I'm leaving.") which she and the other two admins absolutely loved ("this is exactly the kind of thing we need in this office.")

Saturday was the long drive up to Gisborne on a very beautiful windy road. The funny thing is that we've had a lot of mixed messages about Gisborne - Tim and I absolutely loved it when we visited (and are loving it now) and have heard from a lot of people who think it's the best thing since sliced baked goods, more or less, but have also encountered quite a few people who think it's the utter pits. Their complaints more or less centre on "there's nothing to do there, and it's so far away from everything."

At this point I always say, "What about the beaches?"
And they always respond,
"Oh yeah, I suppose it's got nice beaches."
"What about the vineyards?"
"Oh yeah I suppose it's surrounded by vineyards."
"And I hear it's very sunny."
"Oh yeah I suppose the weather is good."
"And it's famous for its surf, right?"
"Oh...yeah if you like surfing then it's ok."
"And it's surrounded by beautiful countryside, coastline, loads of walks and cycle trails?"
"Yeah yeah it's right in the country."
"Sounds brilliant."
"No, you see...it's just...well it's....it's just..."

And they can never quite finish the sentence.

Gizzy is far away from everything and it is a tiny town where everyone knows each other and it takes hours on windy windy roads to get anywhere and to be fair to the detractors if you were born here you'd probably be just about desperate to leave once you hit 18. There are also lots of issues - it's an incredibly poor area of NZ, being hugely reliant on the timber industry and farming, which have taken lots of hits, unemployment is high, and there are numerous social issues with the Maori who live here and make up 50% of the population (highest in NZ). On the other hand, it is a place of stunning, unbelievable natural beauty, people are incredibly friendly and welcoming, the Maori presence gives it a really wonderful, grounded, different feel to other areas of NZ (and I wish people wouldn't forget the Maori were here first. It's really their land, by all rights, which they're rather graciously letting us live on, mainly because of the sneaky dealings of the British, and now they're suffering all sorts of social ills related to colonialism which is too complex to go into here), and the lifestyle is pretty amazing. It's more or less exactly what I expected and I am delighted to have the privilege of living here for 7 months.

On Saturday we moved in. Our flat overlooks the harbourside and is costing us a ridiculous £500 a month to rent. It comes with its own outdoor pool (shared, of course), sauna and gym, and is in a pretty wonderful location. We watched the sunset from our balcony, which sees all the way out to sea. So that's the good part. The bad part is that it has clearly been terribly managed. Though the build is in great quality, the furnishings are pretty haphazard, and when we arrived (despite having signed the contract 6 weeks ago and paid rent for 2 weeks beforehand), there was no power (the letting agents having decided it would be superfluous to let us know beforehand), there was damp in the flat, there was mould all over the inside of the fridge, which was really disgusting, and there was almost no furniture in the bedroom - no wardrobe or drawers. We only had one set of keys (without which you cannot even get into the building), and the response to a request for a second set was "oh we're not obliged to give you any you know." Charming.

Luckily we have an incredible building manager who has an undying grudge against the owner of the flats (who he has described to us as an unbelievably tight millionaire) who gave us candles, is knocking up some furniture for us, and gave us access to one of the other flats for hot water and use of their fridge.  So we had a very peaceful candlelit evening watching the sunset, and really it could have been worse.

The next day we managed to get the power turned on and were also greeted with a bottle of 'gizzy fizzy' by a GP who works at the practice Tim is starting in. It turns out our apartment block is literally riddled with doctors.

On Sunday we were invited to a BBQ by my new consultant at his, again, ridiculous house. It was a really lovely evening - he'd invited a few other docs, who all appeared to be south africans who'd moved to new zealand 'temporarily, just for a couple of months' about 10 years ago and had produced about a million children between them. We got the grand tour, complete with constant toppings up of champagne, of his chicken coop (with slidey out chicken poop remover), veg garden (and a taste of the asparagus and broad beans), plum trees, swimming pool, billiards room, etc. After the biggest meal I have ever eaten (true story), we were then hustled into playing football with the kids, who were hilarious - there were 2 little boys, 4 and 6, who looked pretty much identical and seemed to think they were playing rugby. It was impossible to take the ball off them because they would fall over it and then the other one would jump on top and make a scrum.

So that was a great introduction to Gizzy. And today I had a very gentle orientation, together with a work badge that says 'registrar' (though it also says 'opthalmologist'....a spelling I didn't have the heart to correct). We finished the day by going to the beach for our first after-work swim of the year, and a dip in our pool as the sun went down again.

In case this is all too idyllic, as I'm typing this, Tim is writing an extremely long complaint letter to the letting agency (there is much, much more stuff wrong with the flat than I have described)...but much like the issues with Gizzy, the bad can't hold a light to the good. It's beautiful here. I love the job. I am going to learn to kitesurf.....

Back in the UK!

And my first hot shower for 3 weeks. Life just keeps getting better and better.

Pineapple pineapple

The end is in sight! On Thursday I went in to surgery, which again finished around 9pm. All cataracts this time, apart from 2 eviscerations for florid endophthalmitis (a devastating infection of the whole eye) – one was really quite painful to watch as the eye was so inflamed that the local couldn’t penetrate very well (local anaesthetics are usually slightly basic, and so in inflammatory conditions, which produces acidic environments, they tend to precipitate and do bugger all). Dr Clarke, the incredible surgeon, injected another huge bolus of anaesthetic into the eye but the poor patient kept up a persistent low-grade whimpering underneath the cloth and you could see his hands clenched for a long time under the gown – not pleasant. That eye must have been paining him for a long long time because it was absolutely awful – completely blind, proptosed, angry red, ulcerated, and the anterior chamber, the iris, lens and the aqueous humour, was completely black with degeneration. Anyhow, after all the gunk has been scooped out things settled down a lot and he endured the rest of the cleaning and sewing up with no discomfort.

We also did a lot of kids with terrible bilateral cataracts and probably very poor prognosis as a lot of them had horizontal oscillatory nystagmus and astoundingly bad vision – probably due to intrauterine infection with something like rubella. If you could see these children then I think anyone against vaccination for rubella who can maintain their views should be absolutely ashamed of themselves. Even after cataract removal most of them will probably be almost blind, with no hope of a cure, but you have to do something and it may be that some of them will benefit from the surgery. Their cataracts were very interesting to see – liquid, unlike a senile cataract, which usually just pops out like a little button.

Another interesting thing was the way the anaesthetic was administered. I say interesting – I really mean a bit horrifying since there was no IV access, the kids all had LMAs of various sizes – and I am not an anaesthetist but frankly the sizing of those LMAs was way off, the anaesthetist just seemed to be shoving whatever she felt like into those tiny little throats – one I thought would probably do for a 100kg man and she was just shoving it into this tiny 9 year old, who looked the size of a 6 year old, with gleeful abandon. He obviously wasn’t having any of it and was coughing and choking up a lot of increasingly bloody sputum. It really made my toes curl to think of all the trauma his poor airway was undergoing – and the anaesthetist just kept on trying and trying, and the tube kept on rising up (well of course it would, it’s not the right size you idiot, is what I thought). I didn’t really know what to do – no one else seemed concerned, and I am clearly not an anaesthetist, and I didn’t want to offend, but at the same time I felt this was really wrong. In the end, I said, pathetically, “that seems like a big tube for such a small boy.”

Anaesthetist: “the little tubes are not good for him.”

Me: “I don’t think this one is very good for him.”

Anaesthetist: (quite surprised that I was talking to her) *ignores me with expression that clearly says “as if you know anything”*

Anyway, after 20 minutes of messing about with his airway (she tried every tube on her trolley 3 times. 3 times!) she eventually got the LMA in and then halfway through the op he started waking up. This seemed to happen with every child on the list – she always seemed to be talking on her phone or not paying attention and then the little body would start coughing and the surgeon would have to call her attention back. Then agonisingly slowly she would check the valves and the tube and all the plumbing – and usually something would have fallen off somewhere and be leaking gas into somewhere and she would put it back on, and then something else would fall off...

It was absolutely a shambles and quite depressing to watch, but I suppose none of the children came to much harm in the sense that they were all alive at the end and had their ops done, and they clearly don’t have the resources for anything more. This was happening to the private patients just as much to the Unite for Sight patients. I did feel though that this whole place was one long adverse incident waiting to happen.

Anyway, depressing rant over. Friday was my last outreach and was also slightly depressing. We had a new volunteer (a local Ghanian) who was a highly efficient woman and who enjoyed summoning me and patients by clicking her fingers and looking very disapproving, something which I really did not enjoy. I’d never really understood before why waiters always complained about people summoning them by snapping their fingers. I’d never done it to anyone and I’d also never seen anyone do it so I couldn’t imagine how offensive it was. Well after having it done to me repeatedly I can quite see how a few days of it would drive me into a murderous rage.

An amusing thing happened though during the day. I needed to use the loo and this is always a big deal in outreach because you have to get a translator and then someone has to speak to the local people and then they have to find a loo for you and often it's locked up and it's no end of palava. Anyway, when I returned, before I could sit down, the local woman seized my wrist in a vice-like grip and asked me a series of questions in Twi. Our volunteer translated for her –

Volunteer: “She says, are you quite empty?”

Me: “Er – yes! Thanks! I’m feeling much better.”

Volunteer: (raising eyes to heaven piously) Thank God for that.  Bless him.

Local woman: (also raising eyes and hands to heaven expressively)

Tickled. 

So I'm just killing time now before I go home and today I had a bit of a walk around and explore and also ate another huge pineapple. Pineapple is one of my favouritest fruits ever and I can never get enough of it, much like strawberries and raspberries and blueberries in season. I remember reading an article (in the Guardian, naturally) about how the author got sick of berries in season (they were naturally doing the Guardian thing of trying to eat only local and British and therefore in summer ate essentially nothing but berries because of the glut), and plums, and all the rest, and I couldn't sympathise because I could eat my favourite fruits every day and not get sick of them. Lucky me, because pineapple here is so super cheap - you can buy a really huge one for £1 - and I mean huge, bigger than you've ever seen - and the nice lady with a machete waves it around and asks shyly, "shall I peel?" and of course you say "yes please" and then she does this amazing thing with the machete - peels it all and chops it with minimum of mess and then puts it all into a bag for you and you're happy for ever, until you run out and have to buy another pineapple.

So I've been stuffing my face with pineapple (no surprise for any of you that know me, I'm sure, since I'm perpetually stuffing my face - when the US folk were here, they were all too hot and bothered to eat at any time but I was always very keen to eat because I never knew when I was going to eat next - as on the outreaches, a whole day could go by without food of any sort, apart from a lukewarm can of Fanta Orange - , and whenever I looked up from having a meal they'd all be sitting watching me with this disbelief on their faces, sweating profusely, and eating hardly anything. One of them eventually said, in a very considered voice, "you're an amazing eater, Connie" and then after a thoughtful pause, "I like that about you."To which I couldn't respond with any dignity because my mouth was full of rice.) which has been absolutely lovely, and wandering about reading James Herriott. I love that man. And then eating more pineapple. I estimate in the last week I've eaten approximately 6 pineapples, to say nothing about how much pineapple juice I've drunk. It's all a bit blissful, really. And also vanilla ice cream. I think I am now built up entirely of vanilla ice cream and pineapple juice.  

So my last greetings from Ghana, and I'll see you guys on the other side when I return

love

Connie