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Day 37, I think - Dear Marmaduke

Dear Marmaduke,

I have not written this diary for the last thirty or so days, as in my desperate thirst I suffered to drink the contents of my fountain pen, the resulting stream of mauve piss having greatly amused my navigator who I have finally deduced is called Eufat Foquer.

I also discovered that what I had taken to be a make-shift bunk bed was in fact a case of fifteen year old malt whisky, which the blessed fellow was trying to smuggle. Having deduced that this was the only drinkable substance on board, we both set to and spent the remaining thirty odd days in a stupor.

Now we are here, however I have sobered up and have used some fresh ink.

Malta has changed so much since my last visit, I scarcely recognised it on our approach. So much light industry and civic building, I will tonight venture into the town.

PK Randolph

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