Monday 

Disappointed that my requests, in Spanish, to Fernando for a Domino's 'Mexican Hot' has been turned down. But I guess that's where we are. 

Happily last night I managed to drop a note down from the balcony to some guy who called himself 'Swampy', who said he'll get me some KFC. I only had the £50 notes that Jemimah gave me, but he seems a decent sort.

The rest of the embassy staff are making a fucking racket. I think they’ve been doing tequila shots while watching a soccer game.

I couldn't get it on my TV and wasn’t invited to join them, but they seemed furious at the result. Didn’t get to sleep till 4 AM.

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Tuesday

I'm running low on moisturiser, and I don't trust this shower gel I’m being given, so I'm going for two showers a week from here on in. And I’m running low on Kleenex.

Bonzer. I've found a copy of Alistair McLaine's ‘Where Eagles Dare’ in the library. And I've found some footer on my TV. 

I'm a Liverpool fan, man and boy. If I can get Sky Sports here, then happy days!

Wednesday

I should have fucking known. Antonio Valencia, who is now the world's most famous Ecuadorian, plays for United, who were clearly beaten on Monday night. 

So now I have to be a United fan. For FUCK'S SAKE.

And that Swampy bloke has clearly fucked off with my £50.

Jonathan Bracey-Gibbon is a freelance journalist who over the past 15 years has written for The Times, the Financial Times, The Sunday Times and Sunday Express