I hate being ill. I've just been told by johnny alpha that he brought the foul DNV sickness back from Iraq with him and everyones had it here. Apparently I'm not supposed to drink beer, eat spicy food or consume any dairy. That about starves my repitoire of diet. I've just finished munching through a Chinese a la Jimmy-san regardez des las suspicious curry and weird red sauce with too many colourings, and swilling a kronenbourg just to kill the bug and get those white-blood cells in a blue shirt and round the rugby posts and back. Now I find out it's the metaphorical equivalent of skipping games to play refresher polo in C7 and watching helm snort a bag of salt and vinegar chipsticks. Ace.
Anyhooz, wednesdays are weird and thursdays weirder still. Fridays are rapidly becoming odd and saturdays are just strange. Last Sunday I took the woman to the gibralter gardens for an "all you can eat" Sunday roast. For £7.95 you get given a plate which you can cram full of as many ingredients as it will contain before spilling all over your fellow diners. I got told that five slices of beef was a little too many, but they would overlook this fact for the time being if I concealed them underneath my four yorkshires, twelve roasties and sack of carrots. After pouring a half litre of gravy over the mix I had to balance it carefully as it was sloshing all over the place. I got back to my place and fruitarian girlfriend Frejya had the dubious pleasure of watching me put it all away with a beer on the side whilst she nibbled at three mushrooms and a few carrots. She didn't even get any gravy becuase it had suspicious lumps of sytringy fat luirking in it. So massive meals and suapicious ingredites aside. I feel like complete shit and now am moving off to bedfordshire to shiver in the heat. Damn these winter chills!