Indialand, the Himalayan 100 Mile Stage Race, parts of the far flung empire etc - a postscript

So that was my little adventure in Indialand - and what a glorious opportunity it was for those nice people to see at first hand a true icon. I enjoyed the fact that they loved me to bits and were obviously proud to have me in their midst. It was good too to see that we share the same humble qualities - only I'm better at it than them.

Returning to England on that final day though, my mind wandered back to the first day of one of the greatest stories ever told. To that throwaway comment I made about a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Well as Flo drove us back to home in the Bedford, that funny feeling got stronger and stronger. And when we finally arrived back in Ron Towers I tell you - it was like a 100 yard dash to make it to the loo. Horror of horrors Ronnettes.

I was ill.

Not just a bit ill. Not just a bit peaky. I was full on dreadfully ill.

So ill in fact that this kiddie here did something he'd not done since he had his appendix out in the mid 60's.

I had to take to my bed.

In the space of four days I lost a stone in weight. I was unable to eat from Tuesday until Sunday. I lost so much fluid that I was hallucinating.

After three days of this business I struggled to the phone and called a doctor - who asked me to go and see him. Oh Ronnettes, the irony. The doctor was Indian - and he was called Kebab!! But he examined me and aksed to get a sample of ... well, you know. This was easier said than done but eventually I succeeded. In went the sample - and I was told not to worry they'd only contact me if the tests showed up anything serious. He then told me to make sure I ate something and drink plenty of fluid - so on the way home I stopped at the Dog and Duck and had a couple of pints of Guinness and two pickled eggs.

They stayed down for about 4 minutes - so that was a waste of eight quid!

Two days later it was confirmed that I'd not only got some form of e-cauliflower poisoning, but that it was so contagious and so virulent it is a communicable and notifiable disease and I had to be reported to the Public Health authorities. Great - they can't even empty the bally dustbins so I aint that confident about them helping me through this medical crisis! The thing I'd got is called Campylobacteriosis - and take it from me Ronnettes - you don't ever want it.

The Half Share in the House subsequently contracted the same thing - but obviously nowhere near as bad as I'd had it. Took her ages to get the flippin housework done so I hope she gets over it soon.

But isn't that ironic? Spend all that time in Indialand without a problem. Within an hour of arriving back in Blighty I'm struck down by something that probably originated in Slough.

Despite losing a bit of weight though I was unable to keep up my running that had promised so much in the Himalayas. But yesterday, oh joy of joys - I went for my first three mile run. I did it quietly, but confidently, knowing full well that my journey to Olympic Gold is now firmly back on track. Tonight saw me down to Stallones where I did my first bit of treadmill work. Problem is that the old weight still needs a bit shifting and as I'm running I keep hearing this noise - it kind of goes bilyp - somewhere between my heart and my groin. So I do need to get to work on restoring my body to adonis-like athletic condition.

And believe me that's not a five minute job - it'll take me till at least Thursday.

Keep on tapering.

Ron