Why do I get the worst spam in the world? I've had three in the last two days cleverly tagged from "firstname.lastname@example.org" and with tempting subject lines like, "your account details" or "re: your complaint" (a very likely one that, all things considered), which read only, "all information is in the attached file". Clearly, unwary readers are meant to open the attached program file, which deletes everything in your registry etc etc.. the only flaw in the plan is that none (none) of the three spam emails have any attachment whatsoever. Sigh.
I haven't been in touch with anybody this week because I got hungry on Sunday. This hunger set off a terrible sequence of events: firstly I stopped at a 24-hour garage for food. Then I bought some frozen burgers, largely because they had matching buns in a rack across the aisle. Suitably armed, I went home and cooked one burger and ate it. Then I retired.
In the morning, I woke up, had a cuppa and drove down to Matsapha. It was totally windless and for some reason, the phrase, "Beaufort scale 0: no wind, smoke rises vertically" played over and over in my brain as if some part of my primary education had somehow floated to the surface and got stuck just behind my speech centre. The main effect of the lack of wind was that you couldn't escape the pollution of Swaziland's main industrial area, no matter how far one stuck one's nose out of the window. Eventually, I couldn't take it any more and was sharply, judderingly sick in a bush behind a car repair shop.
I drove back to town - slowly - and cautiously made my way home, convinced that I really should start having more for breakfast than coffee. When I got home, I was sick all over the place, which was nice for Lindiwe and Ronny, who refused to leave me "in this state" until I chased them off the property, bandy-legged and frothing. I like my privacy when I'm being degradingly unwell. I'm sure this makes fascinating reading, so I'll spare you any more gore but suffice to say I spent the next two days in bed, alternately feverish and dehydrated, trying to read Bret Easton Ellis' Glamorama, which is bizarre enough straight let alone dosed up on digestive devils.
Anywhichway, I'm back up today (somewhat tentatively) and I've discovered that I can now at least drink liquids without making imminent plans for their re-arrival in the oustide world. Solid food will have to wait.
Well, that's only twice in nearly a year.. can't be that bad can it? I mean, considering I had food poisoning.. what.. once, in my entire life prior to this trip?
Oh, and more stupidity: got a text message today that read "FROM 61234: MY NEW NUMBER IS 61234 WHAT ARE YOU DOING FRIDAY?" which was helpful, I thought.
Other Carl sites