Öög. I’m just back from a jog — my first jog in almost a year. Jogging, you know. The pointless kind of running that really doesn’t take you anywhere… just back. The kind of stuff that’s supposed to do you good. Good my arse.

Jogging in Timor was a different thing. Fifteen degrees warmer, for one thing. And a singing Jed. And coconut water straight out of a chilled coconut at the Caz Bar terrace after the jog. Maybe the house band playing… Now that’s a jog, this is cold and pain.

Thankfully tomorrow at least the cold is gone (unless i managed to catch one jogging).