The dramatic final hours

Mosquitoes. Normally a mere annoyance. Until you have a 10 hour drive the next day. It was on Tuesday evening that a particularly ambitious mozzie decided that, rather than eating a normal meal, it would tap into a veritable feast and go for a tasty foot vein.

3o mins later the pain sets in. 2 hours later and despite several anti-histamine pills, walking is no longer possible. It is at this point, around midnight on Bastille day, that I decide to go the hospital, as the pain is heading further up my leg. Saint Simon comes with to the hospital.

Never have I been treated more rudely than in Fréjus-Saint Raphael hospital. Aside from the very long wait, which is in fairness to be semi-expected for non life-threatening injuries at A&E, the number of doctors was risibly low - 2! is Bastille Day really that important? - and the staff made no effort to explain what needed to be done to negotiate the French hospital system. I was asked why I had bothered turning up at all, as if allergic reactions can't be dangerous and then dealt with in as offhand a manner as possible before being told to go. If it were not for one very friendly orderly explaining that 'go' actually means pick up your prescription and leave, I would have been without medication.

Finally returned home in the morning at 6.00, plans for travel to Augsburg scotched. The Venerable Wareham kindly picks up my prescription from the bottom of the hill later on.

Avoid French hospitals at all costs. I suspect just going to a normal GP the next day is vastly preferable.