Pop goes the weasel

Day 31 and 104.5 kilos

There is a moment in a number of films where one of the protagonists, full of bonhomie and gladness, takes a swig of a drink and carries on carousing before suddenly his face changes in alarm and he realises that somebody has just slipped him a "Mickey Finn". Humphrey Bogart does it in the "Maltese Falcon" and a bit player does it in the enormously forgettable film "the boy in blue". And although not in a film, I had a similar reaction last night. I have already mentioned that I broke my fast with some beef consomme and that, as I was writing, the chief was juicing apples and water melon. It was delicious - so delicious that the first glass barely touched the sides as it went down the hatch. The second was drunk a little slower but it made me as happy as a pig in mud. The chief then passed me her glass and I had quite a lot of that as well. I then went to lie on the sofa to digest in front of a film and feeling full of radiant joy and good will to all men.

In the mean time Asya retired to bed as she was not well yesterday. About twenty minutes later I received a phone call from her demanding my presence upstairs where I was informed that I must return to the kitchen and fill a pair of socks with uncooked rice. These then had to be microwaved for three minutes before being brought back to her to be used as placebo water bottles that she could apply to her more tender areas. The moment that she finished describing this tomfoolery was the moment when I realised that I had had my mickey finn. Clutching my stomach in pain, I lay down on the bed and was instantly engulfed by the most horrendous cold sweats. The pain in my guts came in waves and was extraordinarily painful. Then it just started to build until I really did not know what to do with myself. I felt as swollen as a balloon and just as full of air. Luckily I then turned into a human organ as wind finally escaped through my system which gave a few seconds of relief after each note but then continued to build to a crescendo. Finally for the third time in 30 days I had to rush, doubled up to the loo. I will not give you any further description other than to paint a metaphor for you. Imagine shaking a magnum of champagne vigorously for several minutes before removing the foil and loosening the wire cage. Easing the cork would be by no means necessary because of the enormous pressures caused by the shaking. Picture that cork then firing itself from the neck of the bottle with sufficient force to cause somebody standing twenty metres away a fairly traumatic head wound and then imagine the bottle practically emptying itself. The relief was instantaneous, the pain disappeared as did the cold sweats and all that was left were the faint sounds of my sobbing. I felt as though my guts had been pulled through with a christmas tree. I eventually made it back to the edge of the bed, half the man that I had been to be asked: "Are you feeling better now?" "Much." I said. "Right well go and get me my hot rice socks then." The shattered creature that is your narrator, who wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed, in an act of selfless love did her bidding. I returned with the requested trophies and I do not even remember my head hitting the pillow.

I awoke feeling excellent this morning but also anxiously remembering the horrors of the previous evening. Thank God I didn't break the fast with solid food - that, I think, would have put me in hospital. I shall be very careful about this over the coming weeks - definitely nothing more than juices and consomme for the next few days. Solids like fruit and veg will have to wait until after the weekend.On another positive note there is a definite improvement in my knee, it is far less inflamed and although I'm still limping I am no longer hobbling.