Yesterday afternoon I intermittently watched the ODI between India and Pakistan at Abu Dhabi. (Much as I love cricket, is there really any need to grow lush grass in the desert?) I vaguely recall struggling to eat some bare chapattis for lunch and watching India losing a wicket on the last-but-one ball of their 50th over. A powercut then intervened and I crawled back to my room.

I think I read for most of the afternoon. I know I slept from 7.30 last night until about 4am this morning: enough in itself but not enough to catch up on previous nights’ insomnia. The dawn chorus here is augmented by barking, an unfathomable hissing sound and car horns. I know I’ve screamed at the world to shut up at least 5 times.

My emergence this morning at least gave me the explanation about the repeated thumping sounds that had plagued me since about 8am: a load of bricks were being unloaded from a truck in the lane leading to my digs. The bricks here are large: about 12 inches by 12 inches by 6 inches, cast in coarse, terracotta-coloured, very friable material. It’s vaguely reminiscent of volcanic rock because of the bubbles.

If I feel up to moving on tomorrow, I will – I want to at least see Anjuna beach. For now, I’m going to wrestle with a chapatti or two and see how stable my stomach feels.

EDIT (7pm) Well the chapattis stayed down but I’m still not right. The furthest I dare venture from my room is a book-rental stall 50 yards away. About to eat a few more and then retire to more ODI-goggling.

EDIT (11pm) Both Pakistan and I have imposible tasks. Theirs is to achieve more than 6 runs per over for the next 25 overs. Mine is to avoid doing something really unpleasant in my bed tonight.