Bewitching Hour

A “magical” sports car has cast a spell on our good doctor, leaving him euphoric and hankering for more.

THE best things in life are free.

Challenging for top spot must be the precise moment you are transitioning between wakefulness to sleep, swaddled in fresh, clean sheets pulled tight beneath and contoured precisely across the geography of your body.

A 30-hour work day relentlessly attending to emergencies done and dusted. The temperature in the room a delicious 22 degrees as the cooled air washes over your bed, its currents over but never directly at you.

Pure, unadulterated bliss.

There is also the first contact of ice-cold crystalline, shimmering water to the back of your throat as you jog to a halt under the searing sun, with kilometres of punishing but exhilarating physical exertion simmering in the wake of your blistered feet.

Elation also engulfs you like a wave as the football issued from your foot ripples into the back of the net.