A Surfeit of Spag

Last night I met up with friends in Highgate and, after giving the birthday boy his presents, we went to an Italian Restaurant in East Finchley. My cautious friend with the small appetite (she has stomach problems, too), stuck to a starter of avocado and mozzarella, with tomato and a small amount of salad. No wine, because she was driving. Birthday Boy and I had the works. He had a starter, then a pasta. I had a crayfish pasta with rocket salad, followed by an amoretto icecream.

Now, for the last few days my ulcer has been giving me hell. As I shovelled in my pasta, full of bravado owing the the two glasses of wine I'd consumed at another friends an hour earlier, and the small one I'd had at Birthday Boy's, and now the large one I was having with my meal, I was aware of a hot spice, chilli maybe, or paprika, adding zip to the flavour. But, in for a penny, in for £23, which was my share of the bill, so I continued to sup and shovel.

I spent the night on Careful Eater's flop-out single bed (she has just written a book on Digestive Health for Sheldon Press) and took a Nurofen for a slight headache, trying to nip the hangover in the bud. Then, after I'd swallowed I thought, Nurofen? Chilli? What am I doing to my poor inflamed tum!

Well, I woke up this morning, as all the best blues players sing (unless they've died in the night, in which case a ghostly voice quavers, 'Well, it seems like I didn't wake up this morning', and guess what? No headache, no stomach ache, in fact, for the first time in days, I feel fine. 'Woke up this morning feeling fine. No indigestion on my mind. Last night I ate a hot spag in the neighbourhood. Something tells me white wine and crayfish are good.' (Apologies to Herman's Hermits and the Halifax ad people!)