Oral Rehydration Salts and some ciprofloxacin were the order of the day when I woke to dire stomach issues. Except for the week last year when South Sudan hospitalised me and forced a mini-recuperation (and I think once in Cambodia when jet lag put me into a sleep coma) this is the only time in my working life that I've not been able to go to the office. Separation from my bathroom did not bear thinking about, so I sent my apologies for various meetings.

The innocent act of eating some unrefrigerated vegetarian samosas does not justify the ramifications of food poisoning. I've been confined to nothing but water and dry toast so things fortunately did improve gradually through the day.

By the evening I felt confident enough to retrieve my bike from the neighbouring town where I'd had to abandon it on Sunday, not wishing to leave it as a target for thieves any longer. Bizarrely the late train I hopped on to get to Royston for bike retrieval was one of the hugely mysterious Cambridge-Brighton direct trains that, miraculously, was neither cancelled nor delayed. This service has long been rumoured but we all thought the current pandemonium in the rail system had put paid to it. Shame I was only travelling to Royston, where incidentally a noxious smell hangs over the town at night. Although really, I should not be thinking of venturing far from home with the current state of affairs.

The bike was returned successfully and I rewarded myself with two pieces of dry toast and some rehydration salts.

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