While in Lomé, I went to see my GP. At least that’s what she says she is, but I know she is actually an angel. During the two 1½ hour consultations, the conversation ranged from mitral valves to contemplative prayer. Evidently in her mind they are inseperable. You wouldn’t get that on the National Health. The upshot is that she sees no problem with me continuing my mountain-top existence, 250 miles from the nearest cardiologist.

Since returning home last week, I have been out walking in the village for an hour erery day, which improves not only the heart but also my language skills. Such a shame that roller-blades and terraced hill-sides don’t easily mix, but the spectacular views in all directions more than make up for this.

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