On leaving Sparkling Eyes and heading towards London I wasn't feeling on top of the world. I put this down to an over indulgence of alcohol over the last few days, no lets rephrase, the last two weeks and my body beginning to fight back. Though I wish it wouldn't and just accept the hundred sausage rolls or copious fried breakfasts I plied pass these lips. I could tell something was up because I felt a chill and my head was fuzzy. However, it's always difficult because I'm from England and it's always a little colder in Scotland, so I put it down to climatization. The train hit London and I felt a mild urge to use the loo. But thought seeing as I only had another hour it would pass and I'd be back at my London base.
From Kings Cross I got a tube to London Bridge. In the City the weather was quite different, it was hot perhaps in the mid 80s, communters were in shirts and no one had a coat, yet I felt my chill still. When on the tube it's usually even hotter than it is outside, maybe even the 90s on the carriage. So I sat in a crowded carriage with bodies swaying around me, they were hot and swetty some giving an odourous pong. The seat I sat on must of been near some mechanical engine part because there was extra heat eminating from it. Rather than be dismayed this was perfect, but it still didn't warm me up, the chill persisted. Things were not adding up, it was hot around me and I felt cold, maybe my moron head was put on when I woke up in the morning, because it really wasn't registering.
I got off the tube and then went to the barrier at London Bridge. As my ticket doesn't automatically work I have to show it to an attendant at this point, but being the peak of rush hour with thousands of people going throught the turnstyles this is not so easy, especially if the attendants are not standing in an accessible place for people who have issues getting through turnstyles. I showed him, he looked at the ticket. Great, I had chosen the novice attendant/learner who didn't know the different ticket types or understand with gate pass tickets you should always ask for the second rail ticket. I held up a second ticket quite clearly waiting for him to glance at it and began to get annoyed Except the idiot must of been wearing blinkers, he just looked at the one gate pass ticket. He then let me through and said "follow me". he went to another attnedant to show them my gate pass. Two seconds later he said it wasn't valid. I had an outburst and said "it is! look at this other one I got in my hand." He rapidly changed his mind and then let me through. I was going to show him my ugly side at this moment. I then found the expected platform form my final train. At this moment I felt a rumbling.
The earlier urge to hit the loo had now reoccured. It took me five minutes to establish on which platform the gents were located. I headed over to it. Got there and just as I was about to direct myself towards a cubical someone else got there instead. Now I felt like clutching my guts. I knew this could be an embarressing moment the shivers had caught up with me. I stood outside the gents and spied the cubical door hoping it would open. Eventually it did and then I rushed in. The toilet seat was up, there was toilet roll brilliant. I dropped the seat down only to find it was covered in piss all over it. WHAT THE HELL IS IT WITH MEN WHO PISS ON TOILET SEATS? So gave it a good wipe down before I could use it. What a relief it was when I did. I had got to the point now where I didn't even care if there was no loo paper I was going to have a dumb and it was going to happen. I thought of an incident L & B man had told me he had when in Poland on a holiday. Now he really does have bowel problems. I sympathised now through my own experience.
Getting back home, I went to bed in early evening, with the occasional tremble, both hot and cold at the same time. A few hours later, when the sun had eventually decided to go down and the sky got a somewhat darker, my body lifted itself out of bed as though some mysterious alien force was levitating me. My reactions were instantaneous even to the extent of beautiful. I had now began my bid for the 2012 Olympic Games in a little know event called Projectile Vommitting. My cheeks blew out like the distorted jowls of a great jazz trumpeter as I tried to hold back the onrush. Clasping my hand daintily to my mouth like a shy teenager trying to suppress a giggle I then did a Linford Christie start from bedroom to toilet to hurl vomit at a greater quantity than water from a fire hose.
It's taken me now three days to recover, I'm sure the fuzzy head was a migraine as well. Somehow I managed to drag myself into the Fish Factory to do my time. I could not face food for two off those days and now I am so much the better. I have abstained from two things, alcohol and sausages since. Be they sausages in a roll or sausage rolls, anything related to a sausage has been off the menu. For the time being if I don't see another sausage for a year it will be too soon. I hope this aversion lasts. But I will be thankful for one very important thing, the inventor of the toilet roll. Maybe I'll have a drink on it tomorrow to.
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