Sort Of Routine

1 Ramadhan 1434

17.00
Around 12.30 I realised just how tough fasting is. It's not that I'd forgotten exactly, but in looking forward to the holy month I suppose I'd been remembering the final days of fasting in past years when generally things have fallen into place, adaptations having been made. It isn't like that at the beginning and the way I felt just after noon was a fierce reminder: I had an aching head such that it felt my brains had been scooped out and something very bruised forced back into the space they'd occupied. I didn't feel hungry; I didn't feel thirsty. I felt too listless to accommodate either state.

And now there's still more than a couple of hours left before I get to drink again, but, somehow or other, my body is telling me that this is not so bad and we can cope, so stop being a wimp. And that's what I'm going to do.