First dicky tummy of the trip, and it's sudden and violent: calm and peaceful one moment, uncontrollable vomiting the next. Lovely. I can't have done much for the reputation of the English abroad. But it seems to have more or less passed now, touch wood, after a heroic quantity of sleep.
The annoying thing is it takes away the appetite for spicy food. I was just perfecting my thali technique, using only the fingers (of the right hand, of course); now the mere smell of it gets me all a-queasy again. For very different reasons, I feel like the guy in Goodness Gracious Me's only fine moment, the "going for an English" sketch:
"Waiter, waiter... Give me the blandest thing on the menu!"
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