Day 94 - The Glastonbury Recovery (Part 2)

There was only one genuine moment of fear on the coach home where I thought that throwing up was a genuine possibility (I had a carrier bag prepared) and although I have a generally weak bladder, this was one of very few scenarios where severe dehydration became advantageous and I didn't piss myself. By the time we arrived home on Monday evening I felt pretty much time.

A 12 hour sleep was all that was between myself then and myself on Tuesday and it was after I had said 12 hour sleep that I was indeed myself on Tuesday. And Tuesday it then was. And Tuesday it was then was great! Myself, Sarah, Georgia and Jake of the Glastonbury lot, plus Will and Mike, set up camp in the living room, watching set after Glastonbury set on iPlayer in the ideal cooling off day.

Wednesday was the day to start getting my shit back together. I felt a little bit off but get back to the real world Jacob, you have work tomorrow! I put a wash on and went to the shop to buy some standard boring things, the sort of things which you regularly need so you need to go to the shop to get them. Those sorts of things. Typically, after the success of now having possession of the things I need, I was shot down in my moment of triumph as the washing machine broke down with all of my clothes swallowed up in its stomach. 

After a mild struggle, we managed to prise my sodden clothing from its locked chamber. I wrung out water from each item of clothing and stuck them on the washing line as my housemates dealth with the more complex technological issue going on inside. After a succession of failed attempts to fix the machine, we gave up and contacted the landlord. It was at this moment of failure that it started to rain and I had to quickly transfer my still ridiculously damp clothing from the washing line onto an indoor rack. It continued to get worse from there.

Hours went by semi-absorbing The Ashes, trying to decipher how much I had physically recovered from Glastonbury. It had always been my plan to get a takeaway curry this evening but if I was being honest with myself I was feeling a bit delicate. If you've planned for a week to have a curry on a set day it's hard to veer away from the idea. The first sign I should have taken heed of was that my takeaway option of choice was closed for Eid. It became quite difficult to work out where was and was not open after this and I almost gave up before finally deciding on an option, an option which I was reasonably happy with at the time.

Fast-forward to around 1am that night, the night before my return to work post-Glastonbury, which is always a shit enough day as it is. I wake up after what can't have been more than half an hour of disrupted sleep with a confused and uneasy discomfort. Gradually as I come more to my senses I realise what is about to happen and make my way to the toilet for a disastrously horrible time. I come back upstairs, bin in hand, accompanied by the unwelcome unavoidable reminder of how I felt back on Monday morning. Not this again, surely not. I haven't drank since Sunday!

The night consistent of regular trips between bedroom and bathroom, pained whimpers and groans. Some time after 5am I finally managed to get to sleep. Luckily I was working from home on Thursday. What wasn't so lucky was that as soon as I woke up, still feeling very unwell, kept from throwing up only by being completely empty, I received a phone call from my manager informing me that I needed to do a type of work I had never done before urgently because there was no other capacity. Echoes of Monday morning, I got through the day on sheer grit and determination, no food and very small sips of water. Thursday was a real slog to say the least.