Civilisation Crash

I have returned to London, I'm not sure I like it anymore, for a start there aren't nearly enough horses.

The final part of my journey home was rather unpleasant. I foolishly thought that a bus that took you smartly to the train station from near to your flat would also travel the same route in reverse if you caught the same number bus travelling in the opposite direction.

What a moron I was. Instead of being deposited a few hundred metres from my flat where I probably could have man-handled my luggage with the minimum of tears I had to jump off the bus before it got any further away from where I wanted to be and then had a slog of about a mile or so with my luggage. With my luggage and my bruised ribs. It was no nice and it seems to have made my injuries noticably worse but more on that later.

Once I'd dropped my bags off home I chucked on both my new pocket watches (decadent I know but I love them both so much I can't really take being parted from them at the moment) and joined some chums at the pub. It was a lovely pub visit of nonsense, inappropriate jokes, silly business ideas and even a light smattering of proper grown up conversations about serious issues. We scampered back to the train station singing, well inventing a very silly song together. I won't share it now because I think unless you were there it will be a bit strange. It was a marvellous trip to the pub and I collapsed into my bed excited and ready for the next adventure.

I woke up at about six am had to go and spend some quality time talking to the loo, then again twenty minutes later. Something was not agreeing with me and I couldn't even keep water down for more than a few minutes. This would be unpleasant enough but imagine if you will the sensation of having to be sick when your ribs are a bit wonky. It's like vomiting when your torso is contained in the jaws of a venus fly trap. My ribs are much worse today, I think because I had to heave luggage around so much.

I'm not sure entirely why, but I went to my meetings in the morning anyway and managed to get almost all the way into the Soho office with out having to be sick again. I was secretly a little impressed that I had any fluids left in me. Thankfully I was only steps away from the office at this point so I could clean up and change into the spare shirt I always keep there. It's for when one stays over night with a 'new friend' and has to go straight to work the next day. I also keep a wash-kit under my desk for the same reason.

Mildly refreshed I went to see another client but instead of working with them for a day I had to stay for only an hour because my stomach had managed to find further reserves and decided I needed to spend a bit more time getting to know the bathrooms of the London area. At that point I gave up and went home, thankfully my digestive system relented and I managed to slink back without anymore issues and fell fast asleep in my bed.

I feel a bit more human now but I still don't want to eat anything and my various action man assignments are going to be on ice until I'm back to the point at which I can do things like that. Amusingly, while I was enjoying my period of enforced fasting (it seems to be in vogue at the moment - check out Bete De Jour) I got a call from an editor asking me if I wanted to do some resturant reviews. Since smell is most of the eating experience I might be able to get away with it if I just sniff the foods, but I think the best solution is to drag along some friends to act as my tasters.