Our Man in Havana

Astonishingly have got internet.
Have no idea how long this will last so....

Taken to incredible Cuban restaurant last night, at the
top of a beautiful dilapidated building of maybe 7 or 8 knackered
but exquisitely rundown marble and stone-carved stories.

The 'doorman' guarding the street level door and wearing a
bright yellow t-shirt, was 7ft, black, built like Hagrid and twice as sweet.
He shakes everyone's hand, and as he took mine, called me 'sugar'.
I think I may have giggled and blushed, but I blame it on the jet lag.

Those 7 0r 8 floors in 90 per cent humidity nearly killed me.
And could my face be any shinier?
Resembling a fucking butterball self-basting turkey was how
I ended my first night in Havana.