I ate a lot of food last night.
I’ve been skint for the last week or so, horrifically so. Actually down to last 20p kind of skint. In fact, a homeless guy asked me for some spare change, and agot a bit indignant when I said I hadn’t. If only he knew that infact I had none. None whatsoever.
You could argue that he needed my 20p more than I. But it was for this very reason that I left it at home, it was too dangerous in london for a solitary 20p.
But I did a gig and got some hard cash and so went to Tesco’s with it. Have I finally shunned my alligence with the panic attack inducing sainsburys? No, not really, but there’s a Tesco’s on the way home, and they often have better offers.
And fucking did they. I had budgeted five pounds for an extravagant feast. I didn’t want to cook as such, and nor did I want a ready meal. Just something easy, filling and gorgeous. And there it was, Tesco’s Finest Pizza (though there were several diferent flavours, which really is the finest?)…and it was buy one get on free. Marvellous. SOme value garlic bread… oh the marketing team didn’t expect that did they, how to they pigeonhole me? He is mid twenties and he has things from the ifnest AND the value range in his basket?
I win.
What for pudding? To my joy I found a big tub of trifle, it was value trifle, only 99p.
I bought it. This was enough for two people, but it was just I, I Terry Saunders, that was going to scoff this food tonight, I’d starved for a week now it was my time to greedily gorge, like a monk probably does after a fast, I’d like to think anyway.
And I bloody ate. ONE WHOLE PEPPERONI PIZZA, ONE WHOLE BAGUETTE OF GARLIC BREAD and half a tub of trifle, then a cup of tea and then… THE REST OF THE TRIFLE.
I just didn’t care.
I lay on my bed like a beached whale; blistering and slowly suffocating.
All was good.
This morning I had a headache, my belly hurt and I felt very, very groggy. I got out of bed with my hangover, looking into the mirror and trying to remember what must have been a heavy night. I couldn’t remember anything, must have been a very heavy night.
Then I did remember, I didn’t drink a thing, this can’t be a hangover.
I went to work, my head getting worse, was this a cold, bird flew? I don’t know why the past tense of a birds mode of transport is in the news so much right now.
The pizza, I’m not ill, the food, I ate too much, my body doesn’t know what to do with it, it’s used to a bowl of pasta or some grain. All this food has forced it to expel pizza as sweat.
Urgh.