Yet. Still. Whatever.
Having re-read the odious post below (after the last comments), I realised a couple of things:
1. You'll agree with me that it has got to rank at the top of my personal worst-written stuff. For a good many reasons. And this entry is not about to even the score.
2. You deserve to know that I went to the doctor's again yesterday, because it was just getting ridiculous living in my own little bubble, not quite hearing what was happening on the right side of me, and feeling like said right side of me was numb from the top of my head to the end of my toes due to the cottony sensation that prevailed in my ear. Suffice it to say that it wasn't an infection after all and it's all good now, my hearing is normal, and you at the back had better stop snickering, because I can hear that too.
3. You must be sick with worry as I never told you if we made it in one piece to Monastir after that dreadful black-out. Breathe again: we did. And the girl who was listening to her mp3 switched it off.
4. You must be sick with trepidation to know what the deal turned out to be with the bus ride to the hotel: it only lasted an hour and a half, AND the bus was very comfortable. We made it to the hotel at around 4:00 in the morning (yes, I will spare you the queuing at the police gates in Monastir airport), in bed about 4:30. The holiday really started then.
5. You must be thinking I had a horrible time, considering the only things I told you about were the journey, the sunburn and the ear. I had a splendid time. It was fantastic. Brilliant. And I'm not only talking about the sun. That was my first real holiday in two years, and it totally lived up to my expectations. Actually, no not quite, I'm still white in some places, and my legs are doggedly refusing to tan properly. But having a couple people offer a couple tens thousand camels for me did make all this tanning rubbish appear quite trivial. Obviously they know about inner beauty in Tunisia. So there.
Anything else you think I might have left out? Ask away.