Last Friday after work I went to Bar Salsa on Charing Cross Road. It was a fun night and it was packed as ever. Weird thing was, I’m usually always ready for a dance if the music is good, but I felt really uncomfortable when I decided to have a quick baile. Unless you’re dancing as part of a couple, you feel out of place on that dancefloor. That feeling was really palpable and I’ve never experienced it before.

When I went there for my birthday a few weeks ago, one of my mates nearly got into a fight with a couple when the guy knocked into her and then the woman stepped on her foot with stilettos (ouch). When my friend said something to them about it, they were like - we’re dancing, this is what happens. No apology.

I still got in a couple of dances with some guy friends, so it wasn’t a total waste.

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Sorry about that. The longer that I’ve left it dormant, the harder it seems to resume it. So much and so little has happened since I blogged regularly. I’ve also been thinking about the general purpose of this blog, and how best to move forward with it. I don’t want to stop blogging altogether, but I don’t know how much I want to combine the personal elements with the general. I guess I could just continue writing and just see what emerges.

So, at this moment I’m at an internet cafe in The Gambia, West Africa. I’m halfway through my 2 week holiday here, staying in the Senegambia / Kololi area. It’s my 3rd time in West Africa (my first trip was around my 30th birthday last year, when I went to Senegal, then I went to Gambia again last June). The whole story about my previous trips would take at least another blog post or two, so I’ll leave that for later.

I’m going to have to work on a proper journal of my activities this time, as I’m already starting to lose track, but the highlights so far were holding a Royal Python in my hands at the reptile farm in Kartong (I was too chicken to hang it around my neck like another guy), and visiting the clever monkeys at the Bijilo Forest Park. Photos to follow!

I’ve gotta say though, that this can be a challenging place for an introvert to visit. The people here are very friendly and gregarious and are naturally curious about tourists, so you’ll often get stopped as you walk down the street and asked your name and where you come from, etc. It’s almost impossible to go for a quiet walk anywhere without being interrupted, so I prepare myself for that whenever I leave my accommodation. It is so beautiful though.

Exactly a week ago I was in my local hospital. I’d been having chest tightness (and some other problems) and had been to see my GP that Monday morning. The GP checked me over then said that he was concerned that my heart was beating too quickly (that I was tachycardic - a term that I’d always wondered about in Grey’s Anatomy) and advised me to go straight to the hospital.

I was only in the busy Accident & Emergency waiting room for a few minutes, as my chest/heart issues were prioritised over the old guy with the crutches and other victims of mishap. My heart rate and blood pressure were checked, I was X-Rayed and then my blood was taken. I waited on a trolley bed for a doctor to review my results. I was unprepared for the hours of waiting as I hadn’t brought along a book, so I drifted in and out of sleep until my mum turned up.

In spite of my sickness, I couldn’t help noticing Hot Doctor. He was a good-looking fella, probably in his late twenties. However, I think he probably knew how hot he was as he wasn’t wearing blue scrubs like his colleagues; he wore khaki combat pants and a tight blue top which had sleeves that ended just above a tattoo on his bicep. Though I spied the beginnings of a bald patch near his crown, he was still a hottie, and I hoped that he wasn’t going to me my doctor, as I wasn’t sure that being in his proximity was going to help my misbehaving heart.

Luckily I was seen by a female doctor who said that my heart was beating normally again and all my other results were okay, so I could leave. I was so happy to leave the hospital - there was so much misery and pain in that place - plus I was worried about catching MRSA or something worse.

One thing that struck me was how professional and pleasant the staff were, from the nurses to the porters who took me to and from the X-Ray Unit, and the doctor too. Of course the NHS isn’t perfect, but those at the front line are trying their best to deliver a good service.

Image: Suat Eman / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

In less than 24 hours I’ll be in Senegal, West Africa. I’m going to be staying with my drum teacher and his wife in their village located in the south of the country. I’m a little nervous now, but also excited.

Saturday will be my 30th birthday. Funnily enough, I’ve been so busy worrying about malaria tablets and mosquito coils, etc. that I haven’t had much headspace left to agonise about turning 30 and being unemployed.

I may be able to update you on how things are going during the trip, but if not I’ll definitely give a summary of my experiences after my return on 31 March.

Cheerio.

I had an email from someone who recently came across my site, who felt that she should warn me about the stuff that I write on here. She suggested that people that I know in real life know about this site, and that I was opening up myself to being stalked by random weirdos by revealing my interests on here.

The truth is that there are just a couple of people who I know in real life that know about this blog (because I chose to tell them about it), and they aren’t actually people that I deal with on a regular basis.

There isn’t anything on this blog that I’m ashamed of. Sure, I wouldn’t want to share this blog with a future employer, but it’s not half as revealing as some people’s Facebook pages. I’m hardly Belle de Jour (and yes, I know that she’s been unmasked now).

I can be quite open on here because this blog isn’t linked to my real identity; I never use my full name, I change the names of any friends I mention, and I am usually vague about locations. I use a contact form so my email address is hidden unless I choose to reply and my domain ownership info is masked for privacy, so I think a random weirdo is going to have a hard time finding me in person.

What do you guys think? Should I be more concerned?

Photo by rpongsaj