After a few days of severe S&D, it dawned on my room mates that maybe they should call a doctor. I was in no state to make rational judgements. I had all on working out from which end the next onslaught of food elimination would occur (are you enjoying your lunch?!).
In broken English, the Portuguese doctor told me, drum roll please, I had salmonella!!!! Finally, a tale to tell the grandchildren. So far, I only had breaking my wrist at a rave (see previous blog). Now it would be grandma, 'the salmonella survivor', rather than grandma 'the drunken prat'.
It's funny isn't it, well, OK, ironic? When heaven is keeping down a cream cracker, you swear you'll never take good health for granted again, never, ever, ever. However, our prayers of gratitude, and Girl Guide-style pledges of eternal appreciation for our well being, are soon forgotten and even those darn yummy rissoles get you in the end, whether their mushed up contents once whinnied, oinked or moo'd.
In fact, I've even been complaining about S&D's toilet-roll-saving flip-side this week after overdoing the eggs in last Tuesday's pancakes! Must have been a 'senior moment' (yikes, did I just say that, shoot me now!!). NB: Please don't confuse S&D with S&M which is an entirely different kettle of fish.
To put a stop to this uncharacteristic and infantile toilet humour, I'll end with a quick Barry Norman moment. We went to see rom-com I'll Give It a Year this week. Do you want my opinion? Well, here it is anyway. It's sort of like Four Weddings..... and Love Actually but trying too hard. End of.
Well, the only other comment I could possibly make is that Rose Byrne should get some rissoles down her.
