After two days in bed my knee has started to deflate, a bit like my mood.
Fed up of being stuck here whilst Esther charges about in the Lima sun like a madman trying to do the things we had planned for our time here.
She's managed to organise a washing machine and has just gone out to meet her brother to go and collect a cot for Salvador.
Wooden stuff is sold in Lima at a series of markets in an inaccesible and unpleasant part of the city - called - Villa Salvador.
The cot we have been lent for our time here is proving no match for Salvador, he had almost clambered out of it just now with me looking on legless and helpless.
Luckily Mum was within earshot to intercept him before he made his escape.
It's Esther's Mum's birthday today but not much celebrating is going on yet, I think some of the family are due over later.
I see from the BBC that George Best is nearing the end, what a tragedy.
I hope that the media focus is on his brilliance as a footballer, together with a debate about what can be done to attack the menace of alcohol, which after all affects far more people than street drugs ever will.
Ironic that in the moment that 24 hour drinking is made legal someone who like me would have loved the idea, never gets to experience it.
Mind you for both George Best and me 24 hour drinking was not only legal but a way of life for too long.
For me, at least for now, I can say that, incredibly, I have entered my seventh year without drink, something that seemed barely possible in the dark days at the end of the last century.
For today, so far, I am OK.
Needless to say no-one has heard of George Best over here, a World Cup appearance would have changed that I think.
I remember seeing him play for Fulham at the County Ground in 1977, he still had plenty of his magic left even then, Swindon of course won 5-0 but the memory of Best nutmegging a Town defender in front of the North Stand is stronger than the result.
I have started to panic a bit about our journey as I am going to be unable to do anything useful and we have a stack of stuff to take.
We will at least be met there by Valerio & Ali (who work for us in the cafe) and hopefully a truck as well.
I will until then carry on watching dodgy videos and reading the Ranulph Fiennes biography of Captain Scott, which tells in detail of his Antarctic expeditions, excellent and jaw droppingly informative about how tough travel was then (if you chose to do it the way he did I suppose).