The wind is in from Africa

The sun is obscured; flights are diverted. Frogs and locusts can’t be far off. Soon everything was covered in fine red dust. But more kept coming. I had to wrap a fine cloth over my mouth and nose in the manner of the Touareg. At midday, surveying the featureless landscape we managed to navigate by the sun until we chanced upon an oasis where large screen TVs were showing the Scotland team toiling away against Italy, for some unfathomable reason.
Luckily I’d left just the smallest slit in my headscarf to imbibe Estrella through and moisten my parched and cracked lips. I must admit though it fairly thickens the appearance of the hair on one’s head, darlings. With a slight auburn tinge. Nice!