A traveller should never venture far without his personal bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide and his trusty Alum stone. I took neither, to a place of insanely high heat and humidity, and suffered the indignity of smelling like a stale baby’s nappy from constant, leaking perspiration, and then having to suffer the ritual outbreak of tingling pustules on my lower lip that turned over a number of days into a crusty, pizzalike protrusion that bled every time I opened my mouth.
I thought I had the answer to the cold sores, though. I had been reliably informed that repeated applications of one’s own urine to a burgeoning pustule would see it off in next to no time. I collected the yellow nectar in a plastic spoon and religiously applied finger dabs at regular intervals. At first, I was hopeful and confident, as it did seem to be halting the spread somewhat, but eventually I realised I was fighting a losing battle. Any urine I collected evaporated at such high speed in the heat, that often it was like applying sticky honey, which seemed more irritating than curative. However, much as it may have looked and felt like honey, it certainly didn’t smell or taste like it, which probably contributed to the ‘baby nappy’ odour I carried around with me, like a private miasma.
