I am sick as a sick dog that cannot stop sneezing. I have allergies and they are bad. I believe I am allergic to Kampala.
Last night at 7pm, after 3 pills I was still sneezing and rubbing my eyes and looking like a red eyed monster, yet it was our night out and I couldn’t face another Thursday evening brought to its knees. Last week, struck with a bad case of the sneezies I had to miss out on a rather glamorous evening out with some girls. This time I could not let it beat me.
I like going out on Thursday night more than any other night of the week, despite it being an early start the next morning. It tends to make the weekend feel a bit closer and it is a wonderful relief after my 8 period, no break in sight, day.
Kampala has a special little Italian restaurant that I am happy to call my favourite place in town. It is called Mambo Point, so called for sentimental reasons to recall the neighbourhood where the Italian owner and his wife met and lived in Liberia. It serves fresh, delicious food made with ingredients shipped directly from Italy. I find it to be a quiet corner in a hectic town and there is something quiet and tranquil about sitting on their terrace, not a child in sight, adults sipping wine and speaking softly. Kampala demands that you find places like this to escape to, where you can regain your sanity and regroup. Next weekend is half term and we are heading out of town, but in the meantime this little oasis of calm has soothed my sorry nerves.
The biggest news to hit our house this week is the sale of the Beast! The Beast has gone to a better home and good riddance I say. I always feared the engine would fall out of that car while careening over one pot hole too many. There were a few rocky days with no car; taxis and drivers were pulled into help and dear F had to hop on a few Bodas too many.
Then yesterday Beauty arrived, so called for her distinct contrast to the Beast. She is shiny, newish, purrs rather than grumbles and rides like a dream. We are all very content.
Now if I can only stop sneezing, I can begin to look forward to the weekend. Tomorrow is year number 18 for F and me. If you want to see how the love story began, read here.