Feverish in a post-dawn hospital ward - a pleasant diversion, even with a putrid buttock, where I get to interact with members of the opposite sex - and after dropping my trousers, a male Filipino nurse with latex gloves spread my cheeks wide while a female Arab doctor peered between them. The inspection didn't last long. A pretty Indonesian nurse then jabbed my butt and an arm and I was dispatched to the pharmacy for painkillers, antibiotics and cream.
Within a week my backside is back to relative normality - I can sit down at least and wiping after a dump is no longer a contortionist's knack. I'm also back at work despite my director trying to block any sick leave with the line "you have work to do".
Shove it where it doesn’t shine boss man, I said, knowing what I was talking about, lying on my side on the sofa watching Titanic for the first time (nice tune by the way) and The Big Lebowski for the umpteenth time.
PART 2 Thanks wholly to last week's trough of despond, my usual heightened anticipation for the impending summer break has been dampened somewhat. However, once the drugs had kicked in, my next bout of ants in the pants (as in 'to be excited about something' - an Americanism no doubt) has happily resurfaced and I spend my office hours perusing travel sites, fingering the passport in my pocket and casting loving glances at the complimentary annual flight ticket in my out-tray.
Despite three dazzling trips in between this summer and last – two sensational Nepali escapades plus a blinding Dutch bender - the Saudi academic calendar does take its toll and by this time of year with the heat and humidity prickling my ennui, and, today, a wind whipping up the sand, I am truly ready for a break from the monotony of being surrounded by men with beards in white dress, driving badly in white cars, the dust, the haze, the hypocrisy, the stares, the desolate five mile road to work and the mullah’s endless wail.
Give me green! Give me cool! Give me rain! Only three weeks to go!