I gave up butter and chocolate for Lent, and I might treat myself later.
Last time I worked in Libya, it was for fixed ten week contracts. So it was not coincidences perhaps that I fixed my own first break this time for ten weeks after arrival, (though I don't think I realised that when I plucked a date for my return ticket apparently out of the air).
And so now we're coming up to five weeks down, five to go. The dreaded bend, which I've encountered before, and here, and here.
It would explain why I've been so unsettled, and shouted at the "security" guys who've walked all over my garlic patch. I'm going to build a fence. This feels like a significant decision.