there, daily, at 3pm to gorge on mounds of fruit. It’s a protection racket – they desist from ravaging the plantations of local farmers and the government pays them off with free bananas. It was now 8am, and the temperature was in the mid
I should never have agreed to write this on the same day as my boxing lesson. My hands are so traumatised I can hardly hold a pen. The words stagger across the page like drunken centipedes. My knees feel like over-ripe bananas and my T-shirt is too
