When my mother was feeling poorly, she used to say cute little phrases like, “I feel like death warmed over.”

I’m feeling poorly now and I feel like death in an oven.

It is of course unusually hot here in Delhi for April, and I have a fever, among other discomforts. Discomforts that include unfortunate and frequent bodily discharged from both ends if you know what I mean.

Next stop Agra- Taj Mahal- this better be good.

Can’t write more now, this key board sticks in an annoying way and I need to go feel sick and sorry for myself.