(an optional extra - not for the squeamish!)
It began with low back-ache. I woke with it on Saturday morning, blamed the strange bed, and didn’t think more of it. By the time we arrived at the beach late morning, the aches and pains had spread and I wasn’t enjoying the sun. I sat in the shade and read, watching the waves. My stomach was in some kind of turmoil. I couldn’t face lunch and felt generally unwell. We left early and I dozed in the back of the car for the journey home. There, I went straight to bed, sleeping only fitfully. It was when I finally dropped off to sleep properly first thing on Sunday morning that disaster struck, in the form of epic diarrhoea. By the time I was awake it was too late. I did my best to clear up but Di was ahead of me, a clean bed ready for me to crawl back into by the time I was out of the shower. I always said, this was the bottom line for me, I told Di. And is it? Di said. I wasn’t sure.