Rolled sirloin
Last night an overwhelming nausea woke me and before I had time to properly come round, was charging down the stairs, unsure whether to kneel or sit on my arrival at the bathroom. Crashing through the door a spazamming gripe forced me to my knees and I retched and coughed until I was left empty and running in a cold sweat. Poor little G has been ill for two days now with a similar affliction and we fear the bug might have been picked up at the care home.
Regular readers of my blog (of whom there are at least four) will realise that I write in the morning about the previous day's events, save for the above paragraph which really did happen last night - confusing hey. Anyway, I hope under the circumstances I'll be forgiven for not describing in much detail ' today's ' butchering as I still feel more than a little fragile. I will say however that it was a marathon event, which saw me on my feet from 9 AM -7 PM slicing, dicing rolling and stringing.
Skeletal remains
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