
Today has been a sea day, as we sail towards out penultimate port destination, Tunis, in Tunisia.
I have to say, it's been a bit of a funny old day for me. Last night, I was as sick as a dog. I'd gone back to my cabin at about 5pm, and by 6pm, I'd become light headed and felt quite poorly. Needless to say, without giving you all the gory details, vomiting and diarharrea (I'm almost sure that isn't how you spell it) ensued. I spent the next 15 hours in bed, rising only to visit the bathroom and clear out a little bit more of whatever it was that was upsetting me...
Now, herein lay a dilemma for me. At what point should I call the medical centre? Or at the very least, the Cruise Director? The ship's instructions were quite clear; anyone experiencing D or V should call the med centre, from where a doctor would come out to your cabin and see to you. Furthermore; anyone found to have the norovirus would be confined to their cabin until the symptoms had cleared, and a further 48 hours after that. Realising that this would almost certainly scupper my next two workshops and any shore visit to Tunisia, I decided I would wait until the morning to see if I was any worse (I'd only been physically sick twice, and the rest was... well... you can guess).
I read again the leaflet we'd been issued telling us about the symptoms we should look out for, which included vomitting and diarr... diarh.. the squits; stomach cramps, headache and a light fever. Well, apart from the first two, I figured I wasn't displaying any of the other signs, so the chances are it wasn't gastroenteritis; I reckoned I would be feeling a lot more poorly if I had that. It was more likely, I reasoned, that it was something I'd ate. Not only that; we've been bombarded with an advertisement on the cabin TV, telling us all about how the virus is carried, and what with the a bit of a rough sea, I was probably suffering from a mild sea-sickness....
The good news is that by morning, I was feeling much better. I walked 5 laps around the ship and tentatively headed for the Secret Garden Cafe for a bowl of cornflakes and a glass of orange juice (thinking; I hope it stays down....).
I've been mega-tired all day, but am sticking to my prognosis that I'm not suffering from gastroenteritis. Running this afternoon's workshop was also going to be a potential weak point in my assessment of my health; could I get through the class without embarrassing myself or having to dash off to the loos mid-brushstroke? Of course I could! Noooo problem...
Tonight is another formal night, and the show is a swinging-60s-sensational-70s extravanganza, so I'll give it a go. I only had a very light salad at lunchtime (again, tentatively), so I would just have to choose my dinner carefully - nothing too spicy, or greasy..
Tomorrow we arrive in Tunisia. Again, I haven't been given a tour, so I'm not entirely sure what my options are going to be; it rather depends upon where the ship is berthed. I'm interested in the ancient Roman city of Carthege, which would require taxi-ride (maybe I could see if my new friend Peter Roach would like to share the fare); likewise, a visit to Tatooine (Luke Skywalker's home in Star Wars); failing all that, I'll be happy to meander through the Souks of Tunis if that seems like the easier option.
I just hope for a better night....
By the way; apparently we've been mentioned in the Daily Express, so the story's out... not guilty!