Getting used to the altitude.

It would be just what the doctor ordered, if I had TB.

It§s brilliantly beautiful here in the Slovakian Tantras, and - though I havent checked, we are abpu as high up as Mexico City, or Davros in Switzerland, where heroines go in old fashioned novels to clear their lungs. Zesterday I visited somewhere higher than anz point in the UK - and there was still a mountain to climb. Er, I didnt.

At first walking, or rather hiking, is a lot more effort. But now my hay fever is clearing, mz brain too, and it feels as if the last vestiges of dope smoking and what I might call sentimental vagueness are disappearing in vapour upwards through the clear sky.

However, I came here on this health-kick holiday to clear up my digestive problems by going on a heavy diet. Thats proving impossible. Basically the food served in restuarants is terrible, and the nearest place to buy fresh food is - Tesco = a thirty minute train ride, plus taxi away. Or a market in a non tourist village unreachable without a car.

Still, life is not onlz about following plans. And right now, my spirits are almost as high as the altitude