Unexpected gut microbe

Lou is in the air on the way back home. What a lovely few days though stopping with her on this beautiful island.

As we sat for our last meal here I felt some familiar rumblings. There was once in Spain a long long night caused either by bad water or by spaghetti vongole. It taught me nothing. I still drink the water, I still eat spaghetti vongole. The curious thing about this evening is that things started happening before the clams got to the table.

Our gut is a brain. I think it was sending signals to my head brain saying “Gonna be emptying out shortly like the last time we ate clams, batten down the hatches.” My brain interpreted it as “Eat clams”. I ate them and then took Lou to the airport by which time I was feeling decidedly the worse for wear. Still I got driving and stopped at a filling station when suddenly there were two simultaneous very strong and extremely immediate needs.

Once I had successfully alternated shouting my croaky song and attempting lift off, the endorphins kicked in. I bought a bottle of water and made it the half hour drive to my hotel room. Now I am showered and shivery but it feels that whatever my gut didn’t want has been successfully ejected.

This beautiful hotel will just have me sleeping in it. I’m too tired and wrung out to visit the bar, too tender to enjoy the bottle in the fridge. Sleep wins.

I’ve often been told to be wary of the tap water here. I rarely give such warnings credence. But that certainty that everything will be alright has got me into trouble before, and will again.

The bed is comfy. I’m gonna switch off the Aircon as it is noisy as hell but summer is coming, and I’m lower than we were. Not gonna freeze even if I’m shivery.

This isn’t what I envisaged for my last night here, but we all know what happens when we have “expectations”. This is what’s happening, and there’s a best to make of it, even if that best is just sleeping.

Imagine my whole body going through that little hole and you are somewhere close to this evening’s fun for me. Sorry.

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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