Gosh darn it I got ill. I had been expecting that the holiday would cause my immune system to relax and for seven months of postponed illnes to catch up with me, but I had been fit and perky up until now. It wasn't as debilitating as the illness that persuaded me to give up alcohol almost seven months ago to the day, but I think alcohol may have played its part and it's probably convinced me, if I hadn't decided this already to go back on the wagon when I get home. Not that I have been overdoing it. I have only drunk every other day whilst I've been here and never more than two drinks a night - until last night when a friendly barman gave us a couple of free shots. Perhaps that was the shock to the system, or maybe I had spent too much time in the sun. In all likelihood the seafood curry I had had at lunchtime was the true culprit, but even though I have no real evidence, like some kind of Andrew Collings, I am convinced the alcohol played its part.
Annoying not to be well. And this was a bad day for our neighbours to be acting up more than usual. There are doorbells on every room and they ring loud enough to be more than audible in the next door room. Every time one of the gang of idiots visits our neighbours they ring the doorbell over and over again. I don't know what is wrong with these people. In the fug of illness I was about ready to explode and said quite loudly "If you ring that doorbell one more time I will fucking smash your face in." The ringing stopped, though I think that was just a coincidence. It started up again a few minutes later and I left our balcony as if to go and act upon my promise. I think my girlfriend thought that I was really going to confront them, but I just went inside and had a drink of water. New members of the family seem to be arriving at all times. On my return I saw a face peeking around the fence between our two balconies and looking into our room. I did say something this time, because that is completely unacceptable, but the man just pretended he was looking out to sea (in the other direction). I thought about having it out with him properly, but was not convinced he'd understand English or manners well enough to care and in the paranoia of illness I started to wonder if the arrogance of this group of people came not because they were rich and over-privileged, but because they were some kind of crime gang or mafia. They seemed to care so little for anyone else that that might make sense. What if next time I was out snorkelling they blocked up my snorkel and held me down? If it ever got to court they would find this blog and claim that they had acted in self-defence because I had made it clear they would kill me.
Instead we grudgingly decamped to the pool and hope that they didn't decide to do the same. As we left our room a group of them were indeed leaving their room and we almost turned back, but it turned out that they were going round to see their friends in the other room and presumably have some fun ringing the doorbell over and over again.
I started to feel a little bit better and read my book about Felix Yusopov (one of Rasputin's assassins) starting to think about work on the film idea I have about him. It is packed with brilliant stories about his appalling over-privileged behaviour (which resonated even more today for some reason). When he was a kid he used to feed his dog chocolate and champagne so it would shit vociferously when guests arrived and on one occasion got it to spray shit over the Minister of Religion. Which puts my neighbours' lack of consideration into some kind of context. His family had so much money and so many palaces that they even forgot about some of their homes. He went to visit one palace that no one in the family had even been to in a hundred years to discover it had actually started to fall down. I love the fact that he felt it was Rasputin who was going to bring the country down, rather than the decadence of the nobility. His mum (I think it was) actually had a servant whose job was to take care of her fur muffs. Usually I would be joking about the double meaning of muff here, but this is funny and disgusting in itself. Imagine being that person. Maybe I should write a film about the person whose job was to look after muffs. There's been loads of films about that in regard to the other kind of muffs, but I bet no one has ever done a film about this kind.
We went to see the stingrays again, but as the evening pressed on I began to feel poorly again so we had an early night. Shame that the end of the holiday is being spoiled a little bit, but we've had a great time up to now. My only worry is that I will feel like this on the plane. But hopefully I will recover by tomorrow.
And was cheered at the end of the day to discover that Mubarak had finally stepped down (though I admire his persistence in the face of overwhelming odds to think he might actually get to stay). Say what you like about him, for an 82 year old he's got lovely dark hair. It put me in mind of Uncle Barrie from Time Gentleman Please, who if they want to go for a fictional president would be a great replacement. "You're doing fine!"
Hey, and if you want to own a doodle that I have drawn with my amazing artistic skills, which demonstrates the curse of the comedian
then you can bid for it here. The money will go to help people whose lives are affected by epilepsy, so as well as owning a beautiful work of art, you will also get to help a worthy cause. It's already at £21 which is frankly astonishing, but I know some of you are nuts enough to pay more than that. Good luck!
