Okay, I’m the first one to admit I have a pathological hatred of “workshops” (see previous entry), but even I wouldn’t resort to food poisoning to get out of one.
Unfortunately, that was exactly what happened to me at the editors’ conference up in Stratford last week, which led to me having what can only be described as one of the worst days of my life.
There I was in the middle of a working group (tasked with revamping everyone’s fashion pages if you’re interested), when all of a sudden I began to shake like a leaf, developed a banging headache and knew with sickening certainty that I was going to have to make a mad dash for the toilet.
Granted, we’d all had a bit of a late night, and yes a couple of glasses of wine were consumed, but I’d woken feeling absolutely fine, tucked into a vegetarian cooked breakfast (while chatting to our regional managing director no less) and happily sat through all the morning sessions.
It was about lunchtime when things began to go wrong, and from thereon in, I wished that I was dead. A hangover this was not - this was hell on earth…
I’ll spare you the details, but suffice to say, being violently ill at a conference centre, where you have absolutely nowhere to hide, is not fun.
At my darkest hour, I have vague recollections of random editors from all over the country, who I had met only minutes earlier, cheerfully popping into the toilet with glasses of water. God only knows what they thought. Needless to say, I resembled something out of the living dead…
By the time the afternoon session resumed, I was lying slumped on a sofa in the lounge area half unconscious.
Mind you, that was a walk in the park compared to the four-hour journey back in my boss’s car, head buried in a brown paper bag.
I won’t go on, but thought I would share this with you in case you are having a bad day – because, rest assured, dear reader, nothing – and I mean nothing - can be as bad as what I went through on Friday…
PS Heartfelt thanks to group editor Jon Keeble and editor of Kent Life Sarah Sturt for helping me through the whole thing with their usual good humour (even if they were convinced it was just an excuse to get out of the workshop...)