My stomach spent most of last night trying to chew its way out of my chest cavity, because I seem to have the most dreadful over-reactions to food containing anything more than the slightest smidgen of chilli. So perhaps having a third of a jar of hot lime pickle accompanying my curry last night wasn't such a good idea.
Not having been able to eat all morning for fear of exploding like Mr. Creosote in Monty Python's The Meaning of Life, instead of having my usual lunch of whatever baguette is least revolting in the canteen and a large packet of salt and vinegar crisps, instead I popped out to Sainsbury's and got myself a pot of fruit salad. I can feel my heart and arteries protesting as I type... I don't usually treat them like this.