You don't move in our house, not for a second

This sickness thing is becoming, almost literally, a pain in the arse. It doesn't seem to matter how little I eat, it seems to end up coming out in liquid form five minutes later. This, I realize, might be a bit too personal for a photo blog, but I am fascinated by it.

What, for example, would happen if I ate a candle? Would it too dissolve in my obviously-sulphuric-acid-like stomach within minutes and then be voided, like the Niagara Falls in springtime, as I groan and creak like a geriatric (if slightly more flatulent) version of Anthony Burgess's Enderby. Could I eat a rubber band and dissolve it... seriously, at the moment, I am as curious as I am diahrroeic.

Which segues nicely to the picture (curiosity? cat? - honestly, why do I bother?) Two minutes I had been gone. Two minutes. And Tui takes the one spot that had been vacated. Talk about dead man's boots.