A Rookie's Mistake

It almost happened. I almost did it. I had the intention. I was on the way. You know, of course that I didn't make it, but it wasn't my fault. Not really anyway. What I'm talking about is getting down here to post. I'd gotten home from a big day of sight seeing with Dad and Stu and was ready to write it all down when Stuart offered to make me a drink. I couldn't say no. So he made me a very nice Absolut Kurant and soda in a tall, narrow glass. It was so nice, in fact, that I decided to have another one on the spot. Then another. Then I thought that I'd have another one, and by this stage they were disappearing so fast I was able to recycle the ice cubes. I finished that last one and was feeling pretty happy with myself when I said to Stuart that maybe we should go and get some groceries to cook some dinner, then I'll go do my thing and he could cook dinner. It was a good plan, the only thing stopping us, it turns out, was the pub between the hotel and the delicatessan.

Seeing as Stuart and I hadn't had a pint in a pub yet it looked like a golden opportunity to grab a quick one as Dad was asleep. We headed in, ordered a couple of San Miguels and sat down. At this stage I was starting to grin to myself and leer at the girl sitting at the table opposite. She ended up moving. We had a beer, then I bought my round then we headed off to the delicatessan. I wasn't really too interested in what we bought and had my heart set on picking up a bottle of Irn Bru, a drink that had been reccommended to me by a couple of Scottish people I know. Stuey bought some ingredients, I headed over the road and bought some Irn Bru and cigarettes (I had been smoking reasonably heavily at the pub, always a dumb move) and then we headed home. At home I thought that I'd better have a glass of water and a bit of sit down. All thoughts of posting had gone out the window. So I sat down, had a glass of water and held on. For some reason I wasn't feeling too crash hot. I thought that I'd better have a bit more water, which I did. This too did not help. I couldn't get comfortable on the couch, I tried lying down, that didn't work. I tried leaning on one elbow, that didn't work. I tried facing the back of the chair, that didn't work.

I knew where all this was heading, and I didn't like it. I thought to myself that I may as well try and get it over with, and maybe have some of the dinner that Stuart was cooking up. Up the stairs I went, one at a time, being very careful. Then I closed the door and waited for it to begin. And begin it did.

I puked up once, twice, three times. That felt like that was that, and I would be okay from then on. I poured myself a glass of cold water and went back downstairs. No sooner had I finished the glass of water, when I had to get back up to the bathroom again, and up it all came, again. This time was interesting because I remember the water feeling cool in my mouth on the way back out, as opposed to the other stuff that was down there which was still pretty warm. I ended my night passed out on the floor of the bathroom where Stuart found me an hour later. He also found me there again 15 minutes later after I failed to move.

It didn't really take all that much to get me to throw up, but I had had a fairly big day of walking around, I hadn't been drinking enough water and I hadn't eaten for a while before hand. Also I'm not really piss fit at the moment (for lack of a better word). In all, a fairly embarassing evening really.

Today I felt a bit crook, but soldiered on out to the War Memorial which was interesting and then onto Piccadilly Circus. I'm meeting Rowan in an hour for dinner at his house which will be nice.

Congratulations go to David for getting his license. I'm amazed at how many people here in England don't speak English.

Disco Stu bought a very flash pair of boots in Turkey.