Big, dirty explosions.

Something dead horrible happened to me the other night. I met up with James to go and watch Pete's band play at Wild at Heart and we had a thoroughly enjoyable time! The gig was great and it was nice to see Pete and catch up a bit. As soon as the gig was over, we went to sit outside for a little bit and I started to feel ropey. I thought that maybe I've just been drinking too quickly or something (I'd only had 3 pints at this point by the way) and that it would soon sort itself out but it definitely didn't and it definitely started to get worse. My stomach cramped up badly and there was so much movement inside me that it felt like what I imagine it would feel like if everything inside your body suddenly became loose and fell down. It felt like my body was crumbling from the inside. I was talking to people, trying to forget this was happening but it was impossible to such was the severity of the movements. I was half way through a conversation with somebody when I had to excuse myself and basically leg it to the bog as fast as I could. The toilets where full of drunken rockabilly guys and they were all shouting mad stuff at each other and being really boozy and rowdy and banging on the door whilst I was in the only cubicle, sweating and having a really sad time upon the toilet. This, I realised, was a horrible situation because it was around 2am on Saturday and I was nowhere near home - it was going to take me at least an hour to get back. I left without saying goodbye to anyone as I was in so much pain by this point and I walked up to Gorlitzer Bahnof where I had to get my first train from. It was a 7 minute wait. That's not too bad I thought, it could be worse. Everybody around me was pushing me closer to the edge of explosion - they were eating kebabs and drinking wine and smoking and they were all making me feel so, so sick. I got on the train to Warschauer Strasse. From here I need to get a train one stop to Ostkreuz and then a train 6 stops to Prenzlauer Allee and then from there walk. I couldn't imagine myself completing this journey without either being violently sick or worse absolutely shitting myself. I made it onto the train to Ostkreuz and by this point I just could not look at anyone - the best I could do was hold my stomach in pain and stare at the ground. I felt like crying, I was dizzy and sweating and I really wanted to cry. When I got to Ostkreuz I saw a train on the next platform and everybody was running for it and in my desperation to get home I ran with the people for this train too, making it on just as the doors were closing. 'Thank the lords above us' I was thinking, I'm going to be home in about 20 minutes. I can do this. I can really do this. But then I realised that I'd gotten onto the wrong train going in the wrong direction. Words cannot get anywhere near the despair I felt at this point. If I felt like crying before, right now I just wanted to curl up at the bottom of this empty platform, this empty crappy station and just let it all out. Everything. From everywhere. I held it together and told myself to stop being such a maggot and waited for the next train back but there was nothing for about 20 minutes and by now I think I was basically crying. Maybe there were no tears but I was definitely moaning and sobbing.

I walked onto the street and hailed a taxi (I should have done this to start with but I only had €16 euros on me and a taxi would have meant spending all my money on getting home when the trains are free at that time). I got in and I think Edda thought I had been shot in the stomach. I lay in bed for about 15 minutes in total agony before it all started. I legged it to the toilet and I can honestly say that I've never been so violently and powerfully sick ever, ever in all of my life. It was frightening. I though my head was going to explode. Then, immediately after this ended, it kicked off down the other end and this too was equally as powerful and frightening. These big, dirty explosions continued every 20/25 minutes until about 8/9am until finally it came to an end and I could get some sleep.

I was destroyed all day yesterday - everything hurt, my pride and dignity included. I stayed in bed all day sipping water, terrified that the slightest bit of food or water would kick it all off again but it never did and thankfully it seems to be all good now. I missed the Liverpool v Man Utd game though which is a shame because I'd arranged to watch it with a load of people including Pete.

I don't know what the fuck it was that happened to me the other night, maybe Pete Bentham and the Dinner Ladies did it to me with rock and roll music? It also occurred to me that maybe it was the same thing John had when he was here...the symptons were exactly the same but how could I have caught it off John when he left nearly two weeks ago? I remember John saying 'This is the most ill I've ever been' and I can say the same man, it was horrible! Properly truly horrible and I'm glad it's over.