Attack of the Karma Chameleon


I was feeling very Smug Nomad today. A few hours lazing on the deserted beach this morning, bombarding my loved ones with “wish you were here” type photos and generally loving myself sick. Even the fact that the baby had woken me at 5am and proceeded to poop her way through six nappies in under thirty minutes had been relegated to the No Biggie pile.

But when one is travelling with a flock of small children, one must not rest on one’s laurels, lest the Karma Chameleon come and bite you fair on the arse.


And so, I find myself ever less smugly sitting in Home Hill Hospital, with a small boy who has a knee blown up and bright red courtesy of an infected mosquito bite, waiting to see if he needs antibiotics and if we need to trek to Ayr to the hospital where there’s a doctor.

I’m sorry Karma Chameleon. I won’t be smug again.


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