The restuarant we had booked was near to my sister's - a 2 and 1/2 hour drive away. I didn't feel great when my parents came to pick me up, but wasn't sure I was ill - I had been out the night before, and while I was pretty sure I hadn't drunk enough to leave me feeling so shaky, it was an easy suspect to point the finger at. After half an hour of slow decline from shakiness to distinct queasiness, I decided to blame it on travel sickness.
With ten miles to go, I had terrible heartburn, so admitted to my parents that I was feeling a little rough and would appreciate a bit of fresh air. Dad pulled over into the next lay-by and as soon as I stepped foot out of the car I was horrendously sick. I’m not sure if me, or my parents, were more surprised.
Even at this stage, I was convinced that a lie down when we arrived would see me right for the meal we had planned and with that positive thought in mind, we made it to my sister’s flat with no further incident. Sadly, rather than a quick power nap seeing me right, for the next eight hours I found myself hovering between a vague state of sleep and dashing to the toilet, unsure for the most part whether I should be sitting on the damn thing or kneeling in front of it. It was an entirely horrible experience and one that I do not want to repeat again. Especially if it means that me, and my family, have to give up a chance to dine at a very posh gaff.
Anyway, thanks to the lack of food consumed in the last 72 hours I have been transformed into a weakened wreck – it took all my energy to turn on the laptop and scribble the drawings for this post. I had nothing left for Bridezilla so she has had a stress free day today. But she promises to return on Thursday, when I am hoping to be back in tip top form.
Oh, and for anyone who is wondering – if you’re eating butter and it tastes a little like blue cheese, I’d highly recommend you stop eating it.