Right, last week I had tummy trouble. Yep, you know what I mean, folks - the squits. Now, we've all experienced those gripping stomach pains and the extra long and repeated sojourns to the bathroom. It's not pleasant.
Of course, it's even more unpleasant when you aren't near a bathroom...
Cue long-winded story
Well, over the last few months, I've been dieting and exercising almost daily. In the evenings, whilst the boys have their tennis practice, I take a hike up the local hills, which are a relatively short distance from the tennis club. So there I was last Wednesday evening, striding away at about 6pm, contemplating the larger issues in life such as;
Why do dogs always crap in the centre of the path and never on the side?
Why do some dog owners pick up the dog muck, place it in a pretty pink fragrant bag and then leave it hanging on a bush?
Why do some dog owners wait till their dog has jumped all over me before they call Fido back to their side?
Yeah, I was thinking about a lot of dog issues. It's not that I've anything against dogs. It's just sometimes it's a little hazardous along the pathways, and I don't like cleaning shoes at the best of times, especially smelly shoes. And I haven't got a foot odour problem, so draw your own conclusions.
Anyway, there I was, contemplating and power-walking along the tracks when I felt a little twinge in my tummy. I raised a curious eyebrow. ( I've always wanted to write that.) Hmm... I thought. Can't be anything serious; I'm as fit as a fiddle. I strode onwards.
Suddenly, another sharper twinge was followed by a brief cramping pain.
Hmm...not good. Not good at all. A little alarm bell starts ringing in my head, thoughts of doggy do-dos disappear, and other more worrying thoughts materialize.
Ding-a-ling -ling Mrs. T. Ding -a- ling-ling!
By this time, I'm on the return journey and halfway up a hill. Then, like a bolt of lightning, I get a really severe cramp in my tummy. Followed by another...and another. Now the alarm bell is ringing very, very loud indeed.
DING A LING-LING MRS T. DING A LING- LING!!
It dawns on me that I'm stuck in the countryside and at least 20 minutes fast walk from a bathroom and that very, very soon I'm going to be in an acutely embarrassing situation. Another cramp hits my belly. I look up to the top of the hill - if I continue my walk, I could end up dropping my knickers at the top of the hill in full view of two adjoining towns and the flight path to Luton airport. I realise I'm in very deep shit. (Not that shit - well, not yet, anyway.) Quickly, I decided to quit my walk and head back to the tennis club as fast as my legs can take me. I am moving it. In fact, my legs are moving faster than a rabid tortoise's as thoughts of Paula Radcliffe squatting on camera intrude into my mind. No way is Mrs T going to be caught with her knickers down in public. No way. I turn up the speed as another cramp hits me...I leave the path and cut across the hillside trying to make haste, but the tall grass and uneven ground are actually slowing me down....
Another cramp. Now I've broken out into a cold sweat: I am dripping all over as the thought begins to cross my mind that I'm still a good 15 mins away from the club and I'm feeling worse by the moment...and I might not have 15 mins. I'm tempted to break into a run, but instinct tells me that running will stop me from clenching my buttocks, and then...it will most definitely be brown trousers before I reach the safety of the undergrowth and woodland down by the disused railway track.
Yet another horrific pain hits my stomach. I finally accept the truth - I'm not going to make it back. I am going to have to do the deed - in public.
Oh God. Why me? What have I done to deserve this? I promise to try harder at housework. And cooking. And all that other stuff I'm supposed to do but can't be bothered with.
Time is against me as I make haste to the railway track. I look in my pockets. Fortunately, I have tissues. I also have a packet of chewing gum. I contemplate using the gum to plug up mon derriere and hope that'll give me enough time to get back to the club. But no, as another cramp hits me, I realise that nothing is going to stop my little problem - nature is calling and ain't nothing gonna stop her now.
So I'm back on the railway track and looking for cover. I'm pounding down the path looking for an acceptable hidey hole. I have more sweat on me than if I had done 15 rounds with Muhammad Ali. The clock is ticking away...tick tock, tick tock...I probably have about 30 seconds before an almighty explosion of gigantic proportions takes place.
I glance up and down the track. No dog walkers. Thank God. I duck under the barbed wire, and I'm into the undergrowth and bushes. I hear a rustle and have a moment of horror as I imagine a dog walker leaping out on me just as I drop my knickers...but a pigeon flies out of one of the larger bushes. I duck under some more wire... I'm in a dark recess with tree cover.....
I tear off my tracksuit top. Rip down my tracksuit bottoms and knickers and...
You know the rest. Relief. Blessed relief.
Alleluia!
Anyway, having hidden the evidence, I got back on the track and, for about 10 seconds, actually contemplated going back to finish my walk - that was until I got another cramp. Then, once again... I was heading back off to the tennis club at breakneck speed.
What I want to know is, am I the only one to whom these embarrassing things happen? Or has this happened to any of you folks out there? Now, I met my friend Mrs. S from The Book Club a couple of days later and felt sure she would say "Oh yes, that's happened to me". But it hadn't. In fact, Mrs. S looked mildly shocked, if not amused, at my situation.
You know, I thought this type of thing happened to everyone.. after all, it's not the first time it's happened to me....
Well, you see...there was this other time when Mr. T and I were in remote Scotland and about 2 miles from our holiday cottage when suddenly (yes, you've guessed it) I got acute stabbing pains in my stomach...
Anyway, to cut it short, I had to drop my knickers. Only there was no tree cover at all. In fact, the only thing that saved my dignity was my leaping over a wall out of Mr. T's eyesight.
Mind you, the herd of cows on the other side weren't too impressed. In fact, Daisy looked pretty bloody shocked, I can tell you.
Anyway, I'm better now, and I'm back walking. In fact, I've walked past my hidey hole several times, and a curious thing has happened; I have a strange desire to go back. Now, apparently, serial offenders often go back to their scene of crimes, so I'm not sure whether I've now gained a secret desire to do "it" in public or whether I just want to be sure I've hidden the evidence well. Cripes, does this mean I'm even more of a fruitcake than I imagined? Oh God, someone book me a place on the psychiatrist's couch. I'm a confused, disturbed woman!
Anyway - so I'm probably a certified fruitcake - but I think I've finally worked out why dogs always crap in the same place.
Well, you see...there was this other time when Mr. T and I were in remote Scotland and about 2 miles from our holiday cottage when suddenly (yes, you've guessed it) I got acute stabbing pains in my stomach...
Anyway, to cut it short, I had to drop my knickers. Only there was no tree cover at all. In fact, the only thing that saved my dignity was my leaping over a wall out of Mr. T's eyesight.
Mind you, the herd of cows on the other side weren't too impressed. In fact, Daisy looked pretty bloody shocked, I can tell you.
Anyway, I'm better now, and I'm back walking. In fact, I've walked past my hidey hole several times, and a curious thing has happened; I have a strange desire to go back. Now, apparently, serial offenders often go back to their scene of crimes, so I'm not sure whether I've now gained a secret desire to do "it" in public or whether I just want to be sure I've hidden the evidence well. Cripes, does this mean I'm even more of a fruitcake than I imagined? Oh God, someone book me a place on the psychiatrist's couch. I'm a confused, disturbed woman!
Anyway - so I'm probably a certified fruitcake - but I think I've finally worked out why dogs always crap in the same place.
What I loved most about this post was the way you introduced it as a 'long-winded' story. Classic!
ReplyDeleteIt's not just you. We have all had these moments, I am sure.
Hilarious! I shouldn't say it, but my mother, whilst out running with me, has disappeared on many occasions. Being a vegetarian is not always a good thing, especially if the dog stands out on the track barking at you!
ReplyDeleteAh yes Fran there was quite a lot of wind involved:)
ReplyDeleteIt's a fact though - I can't say anything succinctly!
Gary; Your mother goes out jogging with you?! I am ahgast- either she is incredibly fit or you are incredibly unfit - hmm ..let me think on that one:)))
Ah, an excess of vegs are never good for the bowels. Your mother is a brave woman indeed!
You were a little bit quick to protest a lack of responses, Mrs T. Give us a chance! The days are getting longer down under and there's too many things to do...
ReplyDeleteAnyway, back to your post. The last time something similar happened to me was when I was on holiday in Italy - well, Rome - well, visiting the Vatican to be precise.
There's a long, one way system shepherding thousands of tourists through one corridor after another, through gold leaf plated chapels and halls, and gallery after gallery of roped-off art collections - a parade of obscene wealth accumulated across the centuries.
I'm not sure whether it was the beginning of a virus or a physical/gastro-intestinal reaction to being in the Vatican itself. I fair ran through the last corridors to get to the holy toilets.
Always said, after a life of unabashed atheism, peppered with more than a few profanities, that I'd get hit by a lightning bolt if I ever stepped foot in such a place. Well, I guess it happened!
I feel I must quote Batman and Robin on this one PB;
ReplyDeleteHOLY CRAP!!!!!!!
Hey Mrs. T. didn't get time to read your post till today! Poor you. I'm sure you must be thankful it wasn't the middle of winter and snowing!! Anyway, if you were here in India, happenings like these wouldn't be a problem at all.
ReplyDeleteThank you Sue - fortuntely I am now fully recovered:)
ReplyDeleteDo you know we have snow forecast for next week! Up North that is - I think we will escape down here - still I might put my thermals on:)
The thing is I am such a delicate butterfly, as you know, that these traumatic incidents rather affect my sensitive nature: remember I grew up reading Jane Austen:)))
Nothing embarassing has ever happened to me, Mrs T, nothing. Ever. Never. (Please don't ask anyone else about this, especially my family and friends; just believe me, OK?)
ReplyDeleteHmm...do I detect a little shyness on your behalf Mr Jones? It's no good you'll have to spit it out now. Come on - out with it!I want to hear all the gruesome details!
ReplyDeleteHilarious! Well, I've been lucky enough to escape such embarrassment, but hey at least you didn't end up spraying your panties, and not your boyfriend either, and I have heard of both scenarios. The ffirst one took place in Italy, gotta be something with that holyness I'm telling ya, except she didn't make it to the holy bathrooms. The other one was this couple I knew who had the wierdest competition I've ever heard of going on. They'd try to fart in each others faces all the time. Sick sick, but who knows, maybe I'm just conventional. Anyway, someone forgot to tell the chick that it might be adviceable to sease fire when you've got the stomach flue, so she literally sprayed her boyfriend. Needless to say, they're not a couple anymore.
ReplyDeleteWelcome Sleepless!
ReplyDeleteWell, what can I say?
Oh Dear God that is simply an awful story!! Ugh,ugh,ugh! I've just got to block out that mental image:))