Eight Weeks to Departure

My Mother calls from the United States of America, where she and the Chatterback are having a luxury weekend away.

"I've bought you a huge Mosquito Net! And a sort of ultraviolet zappy type thing you can neutralise nasty water with!"

"Aaahh... Joy. Thanks very much."

Perhaps it's a sonic screwdriver.

I've seen an awful lot of family members, and repeated again and again where I'm going, what I'm doing, and how excited I am about it. In fact, the date of departure seems to be coming worryingly near. I know I'm going to Africa, but I still feel in the sort of mental state where my brain is thinking "Well I'm going to Africa, but I'm not really going to Africa, not really really." I shall probably step onto the plane and have a complete meltdown. Now I must turn my attentions to my last Hep B jab, and my typhoid and yellow fever.