At my wits end

Now I’m at my wits end, because I went to Albania. It’s very nice there really, and people were quite helpful, but they looked at me a bit funny, as a lone female.

I found the address and tried to get some sense out of them, but they just shrugged and looked stupid. I got nowhere at all. I came back the same day having achieved nothing.

I went back to the British consul in Corfu. He was very nice, but, as he pointed out, it was hardly his problem, as his embassy is in Athens. But he relayed a message to his counterpart in Albania.

I called Alexis. He hasn’t heard. I didn’t expect him to have, but I had to ask.

I don’t know what else to do. Carfilhiot’s mobile still doesn’t answer and I’m getting very distressed. I keep drinking too much. I just sit in the bar and order drink after drink until I can hardly walk back to the room. Frankly, I think I’m going a bit peculiar again because it’s very dangerous to be a drunk woman by herself in a hotel.

I’m going back to our own island and wait there. At least there’s Alexis who’s just as anxious. I suppose I could contact the Press, but Carfilhiot would be furious, I’m sure, because he wants NO PUBLICITY.

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