Goodbye Gambia, Gatwick bound.

Afternoon all, for possibly the last time. The ambulance has been handed over with pomp and circumstance to the clinic in Fagikunda, which has been added to the fleet that now has a running total of 1 ambulances to help it serve its catchment area of 67000 souls. Puts things in perspective, doesn't it; I'll never moan about the NHS again (unless I catch MRSA). Prayers were said for the van and its erstwhile occupants (though I suspect its future occupants will be in rather more pressing need of divine intervention) and the chief and other village dignitaries were on hand to thank our delivery crew and pose for pictures. The clinic seemed mightily impressed with the meatwagon: the Sister who runs the place is now coralling a posse of volunteer drivers who can be summoned when the van is called upon to ferry the poorly. Apparently, she hadn't told her staff when she heard the ambulance was coming, as she didn't believe it and thought it was too good to be true. As far as I know though, no-one has cracked the classic Eric Morecambe gag during the entire trip, which is disappointing frankly. I wish I'd gone now - I'd have done it EVERY DAY. Which may be why I wasn't invited... or perhaps it just never went fast enough.

This update came from the airport, to which they were ferried direct from the handover ceremony, where our protagonists are enjoying the final vestiges of Gambian hospitality with beers in the sun on the terrace in the company of the remaining PBCers. The plane leaves around 1700h and lands around 2300h as long as the wind is favourable and Gambian Airport Refuelling Ltd. remember to wind the rubber band up all the way before take-off. This time tomorrow, you can get your own updates from the people who were there instead of having your info filtered through my tortuous syntax. So it's adieu, until I build the new website. Cheers - Phil.

*EDIT* - Added pic from Alex's collection, Joe & Alex and the Clinic staff.