It’s been over a week since anything remotely solid passed from between my bum-cheeks. Leah came down with something when we were on Gili Trawangan and I think passed it on to me so that by the time we got to Gili Meno I really wasn’t feeling well. And I’m a really bad ill person. Leah will vouch for this.
Similarly to her, after some time with the runs a good old vomit suddenly made me feel better. I expected to perk up within a day or so and indeed since then and until now I feel pretty good in myself.
However, I still don’t think I’ve passed anything that wouldn’t pass through a reasonably-graded collander since. In face in the last day or so I’d go so far as to say sieve.
With an eye operation coming up on Saturday I could really do with ensuring my stomach, at least, is in working order. Here’s hoping the Immodium I have in my medicine bag is in date. At least they have Boots in Bangkok so I can get new ones if necessary.
While at Graspop and under the influence of too much beer, and having heard of the death of Michael Jackson (am I the last blog in the world to mention that?) I had a thought.
You know the “If they’re old enough to bleed, they’re old enough to breed” phrase? Does that include punching them in the face?
And with that, I shall go into hiding for a couple of weeks due to lack of internet access and time. Back when I am.
[Aside: when I did my original post, Zemanta decided I was interested in linking to “Michael Jackson (writer)”. I narrowed the search to “underage sex” and it changed to links to Wacko Jacko. Strange, that]