We had been warned by nigh-on every traveller of the potential inconveniences that awaited us in India. None was as pertinent as the threat of Delhi belly, sure to be encountered by every traveller to the sub-continent. Apart from a few minor discomforts and belly-wobbles during the first week of our trip, we had experienced none of the perils that were ‘surely’ awaiting us.

Another week and all was well; even slightly more adventurous dabblings in cuisine went unpunished. And then, after accepting a meal of vermicelli and home cooked sauce from a home-style hotelier, it commenced. Storm was first to be stricken down; her fortitude slowly eroded by a six hour bus ride over bumpy roads and persistently high temperatures. At our destination – the lovely canal-bounded town of Ernakulum -, she could stomach no more than tomato soup at a local restaurant before collapsing, bedraggled and exhausted, into bed. I would follow into fever and diarrhea soon enough, and for the next day or so we would rush frequently (and fortunately not concurrently) between the toilet and mattress.

So what is the point of this post I hear you ask. Well, as we lay there, feeling as though our innards had been scooped out like ice-cream, I would gaze glassy eyed at the ceiling. And who would appear before me? None other than my best of best friends, ye ole’ Lleyton Hewitt. Storm failed to see the connection between a few pieces of peeling paint and that most iconic of Australian sporting stars. But I could see the resemblance, and I present the evidence to you now…

Lleyton Hewitt Lleyton2

Do you stand amazed and bewildered? Or has my vermicelli induced delirium simply remained with me to this day?