On occasions like that, what you need is someone to tuck you up in bed with a fresh cup of water, put a large bowl on the floor by the bed, and make sure there's a clear run to the lavatorial facilities. You take these things for granted until one day you find that you're yacking ... (sorry, the details) ... you're not well, and the lovely someone who would tuck you in is 150 miles away with the English Channel in the way.
But I digress.
The last thing I'd eaten before I found myself heaving up ... (yes, I know, the details, I'm sparing them) ... basically, I'd had this M&S indian. Looked lovely on the box. Tasted OK. Came with a free balti dish too. "Tender pieces of chicken breast cooked to a traditional balti recipe in a spicy curry sauce". Whatever. Didn't taste so nice on the way up ... (oh, the details).
When I'd recovered I sprayed the entire apartment with bleach. Obviously I lean towards the obsessive and compulsive anyway, so on this occasion I really went to town. In fact, after taking the remainder of the indian out of the freezer just for the 'photo opportunity' for this blog, I spent a good deal of time scrubbing my hands with a wire brush (OK, that last bit is a lie, but I was washing my hands like a surgeon).
So here's the point.
I figured that one day I might fancy an indian again. But I don't know that I will. Certainly not an M&S balti with naan bread and starter selection. That box of "samosas - delicately folded in a crisp pastry and stuffed with spicy minced meat and peas" went straight from the photo shoot into the bin.
Instead, tonight I'll be indulging in a "moist and flaky portion of fillet of cod coated in a light, crispy breadcrumb". Cod 'n' chips to me and you.
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