Monday, July 09, 2012
roadtrip to furtherst reaches of the uk
That was such a mission. We drove down to what was the ends of the Earth, to be faced with a sign in my hotel room, plonked next to a tube of hand sanitising gel.
"NOROVIRUS OUTBREAK. Do take care and wash your hands frequently, especially when in gated communities and on boats in the area."
What the fuck?
What is 'norovirus' anyway, and why is it in North Devon? After a quick search, found out it is highly contagious, spread by touch and most significantly, spread by touching human shit.
Apparently crap is at the epicentre of norovirus. Because you get it by touching shit, which makes you shit. Violently.
And gated community it was - the hotel we stayed at, while lovely and typically quirky (how does the shower work? Still can't tell you. Tap fell off. Had to wash hair in the bath. Upside down. Don't ask), the place was filled with 90 year olds.
Filled. I mean, everyone would look up from their soup and mashed dinners to look at us when we walked into breakfast. We were out of place, that's for certain.
We strolled around and had a glass of wine after our epic six hour journey. Twas a cute town, albeit isolated and cut-off largely from the rest of the urban world.
But, oh my flying focaccia bread. I was absolutely knackered by the time I got home. The train stopped at every town west of London, so when I got home I felt sick with tiredness.
You know that feeling where you're so tired, you are mostly just comign across as really dumb, and also need to puke at the same time?
For about 4 hours, I thought I'd contracted norovirus. Serial.
Then we had friends stay the whole weekend. I literally cannot wait to nosedive into a couch/horizontal thing. And plank up a storm.