I’m not feeling too crash hot today. The soreness from Saturday’s walk has just about worn off (and leaves me thinking that in future more regular, gentler exercise is needed to gear up for such a full-on experience).

But it’s mostly the remnants of last night. There’s two reasons one might be clutching their stomach, rolling around, unable to do anything else. One is collapsing in spasms of laughter, and the other is having extreme stomach pain. Alas, for me, it was the latter. I was as sick as a dog overnight. As sick as a very sick dog. I think was food poisoning. The prime suspects are

  • a sausage roll I bought in Mt Macedon on Saturday (unlikely – there’s not much organic in a sausage roll, besides, I ate it a good 36 hours before becoming sick)
  • the mince meat in the batch of Bolognese sauce I cooked up last night

Sadly, it seems to be the latter. I’m a little disappointed, as I had started rejecting the slightly crappy supermarket meat, and been buying stuff from what seemed to be a good butcher in Elsternwick. Alas, it seems the mince is dodgy. Shame, as I thought it cooked up so well, too. Must have been all the red wine I put in it.

So anyway, the first bit was the stomach pain. Not enough to wake me up, but intriguingly it manifested itself into the dream I was having at the time. I don’t recall all the details now, but it was something along the lines of a bunch of people meeting, and one of the issues raised at the meeting was ensuring equity for people with stomach aches.

About 2:30 it woke me up. I stumbled around the house to find a hot water bottle, which combined with lying in a kind of foetal position is one of my preferred ways to deal with stomach pain. The first one I found had a hole in it. The second one didn’t. Not that it helped anyway, as the pain intensified. I’ll spare you the grisly details, but basically from then until about 6am, I spent the night alternately writhing on the bed in agony, then chucking my guts up, cycling about every half hour. Not pleasant. I’m a noisy vomiter, too – I bet it woke the neighbours.

By 6am, whatever it was that my body had decided was not worthy for digestion had been expelled, and I was able to get some sleep. And despite looming deadlines at work, I took the day off to try and recover. I didn’t have breakfast, but my lunch and dinner stayed down, so I think I’m well on the road to recovery.

By Daniel Bowen

Transport blogger / campaigner and spokesperson for the Public Transport Users Association / professional geek.
Bunurong land, Melbourne, Australia.
Opinions on this blog are all mine.