It is
seen as very childish to talk about poo, but it is a bodily function that we do
every day and I don’t see why we should shy away from it. When you become a
parent, it becomes a bit of an obsession. Is the baby pooing enough? Or too
much? Have we got enough nappies to keep him clean? Should we take spare
clothes in case we have a leak around the sides of the nappy? Will there be
changing facilities where we’re going or will we end up changing him on the table?
Why is his shit GREEN for God’s sake?
Etc. Etc.
Anyway,
the reason I mention it is that I have just blocked the toilet at work so badly
that I have had to call a maintenance man out. I blame Beryl. Normally, my
bowel movements are reassuringly regular and satisfyingly solid, but what came
out of me today was like something you’d see in the rhino pen at a zoo. The sheer volume of what I ate yesterday,
coupled with the fact that it was a bizarre combination of sweet treats, succulent
sauces, rich ingredients and alcohol-laden pastry products, has obviously given
my digestive system no option but to ‘abort and reset’ by throwing the whole
lot out in one awe-inspiring, gasp-inducing expulsion. I feel exhausted, and
yet strangely proud of my body for the way it has dealt with the onslaught I
put it through on Sunday.
Now I
think I need to stick to toast, soups and salads for a few days.
Apologies
to you all for writing about it, and apologies to Joe for having to fix the
toilet.
RC 29-11-21
1655 GMT
No comments:
Post a Comment