Africa 4: Malarone and wine: Not fine

It’s 8:30am.

I’m in the back of a turquoise mini cab bound for Gatwick, and I’m puking into a Sainsbury’s carrier bag. Not exactly the glamorous airport arrival I had planned.

I think that this mornings malaria tablet mixed with the three glasses of rose I consumed last night, have come together to make a rather toxic concoction that is slowly dissolving my stomach.

I have prepared myself mentally for Liberia’s impressive host of horrid creatures; snakes, those little bug things that live under your scalp and worms that enjoy spending time in your small intestine, but I didn’t expect to be floored by a tiny pink malarone tablet before I even left London. Surely malaria itself can’t be as bad as this…?

What have I gotten myself into…