There’s always been a lot I found hard to digest. Consecutive double faults, craft beer, meme coins, Radiohead, politicians, being tailgated by Checkers Sixty60 riders in rush hour, my wife’s sudden penchant for sandpapering and varnishing old garden furniture, to name a few.

But now I just can’t digest anything without great resolve and some hard swallowing. Last Wednesday I was tucking into a slab of grilled kingklip at my favourite eatery. By my third mouthful I was doing the good old “langtand” grind on a meal I usually devour with unbridled gusto. After a few moments of panicky processing, I realised my sense of taste had gone Awol. I’m assuming this is one of those Covid complications – even though, aside from a brief episode of the sniffles last week, I suffered no obvious symptoms...

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