Oh! That can't be good...

It may come as some surprise that I don't do spicy - or anything that could be considered interesting and flavoursome. In the culinary sense you understand?! It was only when Sarah came home from nursery - nursery! - aged 2, telling me all about the delicious curry they'd given her for lunch, that I thought perhaps I should give it a go - besides, how bad could it be? We have been enjoying the blandest Korma's ever since; until, that is, I was unable to purchase our usual brand of Korma sauce last night in the supermarket - so I decided to be brave and buy a Tikka Masala instead.

Two hours have passed since Keith and I finished our meal, and there may be trouble ahead. The outlook is not good. You have to understand that my constitution demands yogurt be served with Worcestershire Sauce crisps, and Pickled Onion Monster Munch are for only the brave or insane in my book. My gastrointestinal system is a delicate and sensitive little darling, which can - if disrespected and provoked - turn into a lethal and unstoppable force of evil. And tonight is that night ladies and gentlemen. Evidently I have overstepped the mark - I have disrespected my guts. It has begun: houseplants are dead, newspapers are combusting, eggs are sizzling in the fridge - even the glass jar the sauce came in has melted. I foolishly bent over to empty the dishwasher, let out what I thought was an innocent seeper and the lounge door was gone! Come to think of it, I haven't since Keith since I came round; I wonder if he made it?

Tomorrow looks like it's going to be one of those days where I'll be glad we have the bath and basin on either side of the loo - I'm gonna need to take hold. I'm always complaining that I can't even have five minutes peace - not even on the loo. With the whole street evacuated, at least I'll get my five minutes peace!