Hayfever can do one

Cartoons, Moaning

I wish I loved summer. I wish it was this magical fabulous time where I wore skimpy clothing and frolicked in a meadow.

Ever since I was a kid summer hasn’t really been my friend. One summer holidays I stepped foot into our garden and shortly came back inside with my eyes streaming, sneezing away and wanting to claw my eyes out they were so itchy. I have been on several different hayfever medications over the years, usually having to change it each year or two as it just no longer becomes effective. I’ve recently switched to a nasal spray – which works for a time but I have to keep using allergy eye drops but no doubt overuse them past the four applications a day stated on the pack – BECAUSE I WANT TO CLAW MY EYES OUT!

I also get sunburnt really easily. I slather myself in factor 50 these days and keep to the shade if I go outside at all. Plus skimpy clothes, mmm nope. Until I lose some weight that wont be happening for a while, although soon to be joining a gym on a joint membership with my husband so at least we can be with each other for motivation and largely ignore any other dbags that might happen to be there at the same time as us. So who knows – I might be donning a bikini and running around in a field – going mental clawing my eyes out next year!

One can but dream!


The pale-faced red-eyed Lois – often seen during the summer weeping in a dark room. (Badly drawn by Lois)

Introducing PoPo Explorers! The best thing since sliced bear face ham!


What the sweaty hell is PoPo Explorers I hear you say? Well, let me tell you…


Some years ago, my best friend and I came up with this catchy name for a fictional company that makes pretty rubbish things. Owned ultimately by Globo PoPo, PoPo Explorers sell a wide range of crappy goods, across several subsidary companies such as PoPo Foods and PoPo Records, things you would never dream of actually buying, but perhaps might one day be fooled into buying something by a crafty salesperson.


The debut album from Cardboard Douche! Winner of Best Silent Pause in the 2010 PoPo Awards.


I need to get me some of that Instant Love Mash!

My Facebook Stalker and How I Am Surrounded By Gullible People

Cartoons, Moaning, Thoughts

A while back I accepted a friend request from a distant cousin of mine. We’ve never met in person (to my knowledge at least) and never had any other contact before now, so I’m not exactly expecting to be best buds with her from the get-go. I love keeping in touch with distant family members, it’s nice that in the internet age we can maintain contact or even find people and make contact that you would not have otherwise. I was already friends with her sister – who is a nice regular NORMAL person, we chat online every so often and that’s all fine.

I was quite surprised however that in accepting this friend request, I also got my very first ever female Facebook stalker. It wasn’t long before she was constantly sending me chat messages, telling me how so many of her real life friends had let her down. Posting endless shit onto my Timeline so that I ended up having to edit my privacy settings so only I could post on it – and review and accept if people tagged me in anything before I allowed it to be seen by the world. As much as I like nice cat videos, I don’t want them plastered all over my Facebook page.


Artists impression of my stalker (Badly drawn by LoisLane)

I’m too nice to just de-friend – besides, she is a family member, so it’s not like some random weirdo (it’s a family weirdo) that I have no issue with removing. I am also too nice to pull her up on it. It’s obviously just who she is, she likes to share cat videos and short people jokes with friends several times an hour.

Most of the time now my statuses are set so that she can’t see them – as she usually comments on EVERYTHING I do. What I can’t seem to stop her from seeing is when I am checking-in somewhere. You know, to tell people who don’t actually give a badgers bum what I am doing and where I happen to be doing it. So I have been getting her commenting on them asking how I am and whether I want to talk about anything? Mmmm, not right now no, I am busy relaxing in the sunshine at my local stately home and gardens thank you.

Maybe she is lonely? I get that. I’ve been the lonely weirdo who wants to chat with anyone and everyone just because I haven’t actually spoken to anyone in days. But no, just no. I have also taken to only responding in the middle of the night so I don’t get caught up in a conversation, but scarily she replies instantly.


Now about the gullible people…

What is it with people who blindly share anything they read on Facebook or the other realms of the internet? People never check anything to see if it is true before they merrily click the ‘share’ button and then comment ‘OMG – everyone you need to check this out!!!’

Usually it is a load of guff about some horrid virus or scam, something that may well have been true at one time – like back in 2005 but has long since stopped being a problem. Sometimes it is potentially life threatening false medical ‘advice’ – how to spot the signs of a heart attack or stroke – none of which are correct, or only partially correct and do not have the backing of the medical experts in those fields.


Argghhhh! We’re all doomed! (Badly drawn by LoisLane)

I am friends with a few people on Facebook who often share these types of things, the main culprit is one of my sisters in law. Not a day goes by it seems without her sharing something that is inaccurate, misleading or just plain wrong. She often falls victim to the spam videos, the ones you see on your friend’s timeline and click on because it sounds like some sort of freak show that you are somehow drawn to (HORRIFIC!!! VIDEO OF WOMAN MAULED BY A POLAR BEAR!!!) – but shows you nothing but a link to something else and next thing you know the link to the video is now on your timeline for others to fall victim to. The most recent one she had shared was a photo claiming to be of a new type of police radar in use in the UK – built into the side barriers on the road, another friend pointed out to her that it wasn’t true and was just something used on a European test track. There have been many occasions that I have commented on her links to advise her that it isn’t correct and for her friends not to share. They often get deleted after that.

Snopes is my friend – always my first port of call when I see some of the dumb stuff that my friends share – I usually post a link to the article about that specific post and about 9 times out of 10 they delete the post and are probably silently hating me for pointing out, yet again, that they are a tool of the highest order for believing this sort of crap.

The worst thing I saw her share was last year. A year ago this week Drummer Lee Rigby from the Woolwich barracks in London was brutally murdered on the street by two Muslim extremists. The day the attack happened, people on social media started to circulate a photograph of a young man in Army uniform stating he was the victim of the horrific attack. At that point the police had not released any details and had not confirmed whether he had been identified or his next of kin informed. My sister in law shared this photograph and I got pretty mad. Instead of commenting directly on her post I posted a status saying that I had seen some people sharing this photograph and how people should have more respect for the family of the deceased – that he had not been formally identified and so there was no proof whatsoever that this man’s face that was being merrily shared by hundreds if not thousands of people, was actually the unfortunate victim. What if that man’s family members saw that post and mistakenly believed their son to have been murdered? Inconceivable. What if that man had died through other circumstances and his photograph was now being shared around and causing other people to have to then point out that it was a terrible mistake? Needless to say moments later she removed it from her page and of course it turned out not to be him anyway.

People these days seem to believe anything they see online, a photograph of some food from a chain restaurant telling you they make their bread out of play-doh or that buying anything made by a certain brand is actually funding North Korea’s nuclear arms trade. In some cases it may well be true, but at least have the wherewithal to check it out BEFORE you share. Just because it is a photograph with some words on it and it has already been shared by 6 million other people doesn’t mean it’s true.

Then we have the instances of Facebook chat virus type messages. If you suddenly get a message from someone who probably never messages you normally, with something like ‘OMG – check out these pics!’ with some weird looking link in it – DON’T CLICK ON IT! If your Nan uses Facebook and you got a message from her like that, it should set some alarm bells ringing. Mmm – Nan doesn’t normally talk or write like that, this can’t be genuine. I know that a lot of people get caught out by stuff like this, but it’s when people are constantly being caught out by it, despite me (or others) advising them to be more careful, then I despair!

I get that social media can be used in a really positive way, especially sharing photographs of missing people (although I always check to see if they have been found before I will share it – no use wasting people’s time getting them to share something if there is no need to.) There are some great bonuses to using sites like Facebook and Twitter, but also some real low points. Dealing with horrid trolls seems to continue to be a problem for many sites, especially Twitter with people posting abusive threatening tweets to others, like the recent case of the female MP campaigning to have a woman featured on the new £5 note here in the UK – replacing another female – Elizabeth Fry with Jane Austen. She was subject to a torrent of disgusting abusive comments, some suggesting she should be raped.

Having recently dealt with a couple of trolls on a Facebook page I manage, I knew for a brief moment what it felt like to be the target of stupid mindless idiots. I banned them from the page and moved on. Sadly a lot of kids these days seem to be struggling with online bullying, often through sites like Facebook and perhaps they aren’t savvy enough to look at their privacy settings and block the bullies and often don’t tell anyone it is happening. There are a lot of kids who are clearly under the age of 13 who are using Facebook and it amazes me some of the stuff I see them posting. (I have two nieces on it who are both under 13 and posting photographs of themselves and having their friends tell them they look ‘well sexy’. Wrong on so many levels.) To what extent are their parents controlling what they are doing? For one – they are allowing them to break the Facebook rules by having an account under the age of 13. If your child IS savvy enough to fiddle with their privacy settings they could be screening you from certain posts. Do you really know what is going on? Would they tell you if someone was bothering them?

I hope that schools these days are teaching kids to be safe online, and perhaps also to not be so easily drawn in by everything they see. There are always going to be dbags out there – it’s something we have always had and will continue to have, but if you happen to be one of them – for the love of god, stop!


Yup…. (Much better drawn cartoon from http://poorlydrawnlines.com/comic/the-data/)

One of lifes little mysteries…


Why does the last minute on the washing machine actually take more like 10 minutes? I don’t understand it. It’s not like the whole ‘a watched pot never boils’ type thing, it’s not that it just seems like a long time because you are waiting for it, no, it actually takes a hell of a lot longer than the advertised 1 minute on the digital display. It must be some part of string theory or some crazy time space shift that makes the normal minutes that have ticked down on the display in normal real-time, suddenly shift and take eons, like particles being torn asunder as material slowly passes through a black hole.

Why can’t washing machine manufacturers actually put the proper time that is left on your wash? Don’t tell me there is a minute left when there is actually five or ten to go. Surely that is against the trade descriptions act?

I might have to write to my local MP.


Still one minute remaining…. (Image from http://www.which.co.uk)

I’m not a girly girl but I’m going to miss my shoes…


After seriously doing my ankle in last year, despite doing regular physio exercises to lessen the pain and weakness I have, after tearing a few ligaments, it is still pretty rubbish and I don’t think I will ever be safe in heels again. I was never all that great in heels, I mainly walked like a man in drag when I wore them because at heart I prefer flat shoes, comfort over fashion. But I had a few pairs that I really loved and wished that I did wear them more often but now, it’s not really going to be happening, I will be an accident waiting to happen. And in case you are wondering, I was wearing flat shoes when I had my accident!

So with a heavy heart this week I listed them on ebay. Considering how little they have been worn anyway, it makes sense to get shot of them anyway, not much point having them cluttering up the place, but I will miss my bright green heels, my magenta pink heels and my navy blue polka dot ones (they were much too tight on the toes anyway but were lovely…) as well as a few other pairs bought over the years that were equally barely worn.


Bye pink lovelies – you were amaze!

I have some low wedge heels for when I want a bit of height for looking smart at work, but wish that I could find nice shoes that aren’t stilettos. I am not one for lusting after shoes, but I really do wish I could find an awesome pair of low wedge heels that were a polka dot pattern, but it seems that is impossible. I also dislike toe cleavage being on show so don’t like shoes with low toe bits, or stupid embelishments on them, and don’t even get me started on peep toes or gladiator sandals.


Just wrong. Why do shoe designers think this is nice in any way? (Image of Taylor Swift’s feet from http://www.shefinds.com)

One day I will have some nice shoes that will be comfortable to wear and aesthetically pleasing! One day…


Why am I a notification slave?


In this modern age of smartphones, ipods, Facebook, instant messaging, blogs… my life seems to be full of notifications for things.

I am one of those stupid people who picks up their emails on both their phone and their ipod – doubling up on the notifications already. Plus of course I have apps on my ipod connected to various things, Facebook, WordPress, Etsy etc.

I seem to have this problem where I feel like I have to respond to emails NOW NOW NOW, or reply to a message on Facebook or read whatever things my lovely followers and likers on here have to say.

I’m a bit like it in my day job too, an email comes in and I have to read it, I might not need to do anything about it at all (which is always good) or it is something I can then mark as unread and flag as something I need to come back to and do.

Most of the time my phone is on silent, so I have a flashing red light of doom when something happens. I used to have days at work where I would feel a bit mad with stress because I was getting email after email on my phone (personal email), texts, emails on my work email, meetings to have to dash to, packs to prepare, desk phone ringing, messages on Skype from the person two desks away from me, that sort of thing.

Trying to ween myself off the desperation to respond so instantly. I’m sure that the person in a completely different timezone to me doesn’t expect me to respond to something at 1am even if I am awake then…


My crazy notification face (badly drawn by LoisLaneSavesTheDay)



Why isn’t it ok to say you feel ill?


I have two things that seem to be the bane of my life, one of them is IBS – Irritable Bowel Syndrome and the other is recurrent tonsillitis.

My tonsils have hated me since I was a kid. I practically drank my bodyweight in pink liquid penicillin as a child and hoped it was something I would grow out of. After having had too much antibiotics in a short space of time it turned out I had developed an allergy to penicillin.


Pink Elixir of Life – or Death in my case (Image from eivf.net)

My repeated use of antibiotics in childhood and adolesence helped in part to destroy the normal functioning of my bowels. In my early 20s I started to struggle with feeling bloated and getting ill a lot. It became difficult to juggle working with the constant need to be within 50 paces of a toilet. I kept food diaries and tried my best to avoid foods that triggered an attack. The list just grew and grew. So many things that I love to eat and things that are healthy and good for you are on that list. Brown bread, apples, pears, raw spinach, beetroot, any kind of root veg, popcorn, sweetcorn, cabbage…

But the problem with IBS is that it’s not all about food, it’s about stress too. So even if I avoid all the foods on my death list, if I am stressed or worried about something I get ill.

Why don’t I have my tonsils out you might be thinking? It was never brought up as a child, even though I probably had it several times a year. When I asked about it as an adult I was advised that doctors do not like to offer it to adults as there is a high risk of post operative bleeding which could be fatal. They apparently only offer it if you have tonsillitis over 5 times a year. For me it’s probably about 4 times a year on average. Sometimes it’s just a sore throat, but other times – like the bout I am having at the moment – is full on fever, cold like symptoms and the worst earache known to man, swallowing normally is impossible and talking is a no-no.

I’ve had a rough couple of weeks. Last week my IBS decided it hated practically everything I ate meaning most of the week I was in agony and very ill. Some women have likened the pain of IBS abdominal cramps to contractions. I’ve never had a baby (and probably wont) but if I do – at least I’ve been through hours of waves of pain already to know what to expect.

So on Monday of this week I was looking forward to feeling better, to getting back into doing some stuff I’ve been wanting to do for a while. Not to be – I was sat there checking my emails and thinking ‘Mmm it feels weird to swallow…’ and then I thought I better check my tonsils in the mirror…. and as expected there was the right tonsil looking horrid. My lovely GP couldn’t fit me in for an appointment but spoke to me on the phone and sent a prescription to the pharmacy for me to collect. It is nice that they have also learned that I need to have a 10 day supply rather than a 7 day supply as it often comes back out of hiding.

What is the point in me telling you all this? Well some months ago I noticed that my sister in law had defriended me on Facebook. I was a bit miffed, it’s one thing for someone you knew years ago from school to cut you off, whatever, but a family member? My brother used to use her to spy on me, every so often I might get a text or email from him in relation to something I had put on there. Whatever – if I don’t want people to see stuff I put on there then I restrict them from my posts, which I don’t do very often. My posts are usually pretty banal. Last year I had a rough time in terms of my health – towards the end of 2012 I had a run of the flu and viral tonsillitis – then more tonsillitis over Christmas. In the New Year my doctor decided to do some tests and turned out I had some strange type of glandular fever – strange because they knew I had it, but the results were weird – so weird in fact that I had to have about 4 blood tests. I felt ill for the first four months of 2013, exhausted. Then I got tonsillitis again and finally in the May I was starting to feel a bit more normal. In July I had a bad fall and tore some ligaments in my ankle. I finished my contract at work and decided to take some time out from working to make sure my foot could heal properly and had to have physio.

So what does this have to do with Facebook? Well yeah, sometimes I might post something like ‘Curses – tonsillitis again.’ or post a photo of my massively bruised and swollen ankle. Yeah I could not bother, but I do. I don’t do it to be all ‘woe is me’. I don’t really know why, but I guess that is what social media has done to us!

So when my brother had noticed that I had stopped working where I was working (oh the joys of LinkedIn) I got an email from him asking me what had I done? Had I lost my job? Did I do something wrong? Thanks Bro. I politely replied and then asked if he knew why his wife had defriended me. I wasn’t really expecting what came next. Apparently I am always so negative, that I swear too much, always talking about being ill and that it upset her because her mother had died of cancer ten years ago. I was a bit agog and quite upset. My husband’s Mum died of cancer four years ago this August – the day after his birthday. We’ve been through the mill with that, his Dad having had Prostate Cancer and thankfully getting the all clear. Never once have I ever compared my IBS or tonsillitis as being as bad as or worse than cancer. Of course it’s not. And yes, when I am feeling ill I am glad that it isn’t something as bad as cancer, or something that could kill me, but it doesn’t mean that I force myself out of bed with a fever and make myself go to work because it’s not something life threatening.

I sat looking through my Facebook posts for that year, wondering if they were right. Was I too negative? How much did I yabber on about being ill? Turns out not so much. I actually hardly said anything about having glandular fever, bar a photo of my ankle and a comment about walking into town for the first time since the injury and it being pretty painful – not so much about that either. Nothing about my IBS that year. And actually not much at all that I would class as being negative about stuff. I polled a couple of friends about it – asked their honest opinion – they were shocked and wondered what planet she was on if she thought those things about me.

When my brother and his wife got together I was pleased. They seemed well suited and I hoped it might bring him back to his old self – the one I grew up with and had a laugh with. Over the years he’d turned into this stranger who I barely saw and seemed to relish in telling me how to live my life (and not just me – my Dad too) – often sending me long lecturing emails about how selfish I am for various reasons (i.e. as a child I would make everyone wait for me at parties at our house by coming down late – what? 1. Girls take longer to get ready for parties and 2. I was a very shy kid and most of the time just wanted not to be involved.) For a short time it seemed like this was happening, but it soon went back into the realms of the emails of doom. It’s not good to feel a sense of dread when you get an email from your own brother, wondering what I was going to be accused of this time. After this revelation I was pretty upset. Him telling me she was in tears defriending me but that she just couldn’t bear to see what I was posting anymore. I politely replied to him apologising for any offence caused, that nothing I had ever posted was meant to cause upset to anyone. My friends were amazed and couldn’t fathom how or why she should feel that way.

So I took the decision to block her, in case she ever decided to re-friend me. And she did the same to me too. I was also surprised she would feel that way seeing as pretty much any time I hear from my brother he has something wrong with him, he also swears a lot – so if she doesn’t like that sort of thing – maybe she should get a divorce? And did she defriend any other friends who ever posted about having the flu? I doubt it.

We went to see my brother for a milestone birthday towards the end of last year. May as well not have bothered. My husband and I were barely spoken to. Half the time I couldn’t look my sister in law in the eye because I was afraid that if I did I might actually lose my temper.

Christmas came and went – and as usual they did nothing for my stepson. They never send him a birthday card, rarely include his name on any Christmas cards to us and don’t give him any presents at Christmas. My brother had a quick visit to my sister after Christmas to exchange gifts for the kids – but didn’t ask me to come – nothing to exchange. Yes he isn’t my son – but he is my family. In years to come I don’t want him to feel like he is treated differently. The rest of my family love him to bits so it just makes me sad.

This has been the straw that broke this camel’s back. Not just Facebook but everything. I am done with them. I will do things for their kids, but I just can’t deal with him and his wife anymore. They are rude to my Dad – never ask how anyone else is, and the only time I hear from them is to have a go at me. They don’t even know me. My best friend asked me if I would be friends with them if I wasn’t related – and I said no. Certainly not anymore.

Maybe one day he’ll have an epiphany and realise he’s been a dick. And maybe she will too. But I’m not holding my breath.

So yes, I am feeling ill today. There – I said it.


Rather apt – from shutthefuckup-sitthefuckdown.tumblr.com

The FIHY list



Please do visit my good friends brand new blog!

Originally posted on Just Breathe:

I learnt something very important this weekend. I was reminded that I’d forgotten to breathe. Just breathe.

Of course I’m breathing. I breathe every second of every day. But I’d forgotten to use it as a way of hitting life’s pause button. I’d forgotten that when I feel overwhelmed, and cortisol is coursing through my veins, that all I need to do is breathe. When I get up on stage, and look at 100 pairs of eyes upon me, that all I have to do is inhale followed by exhale. When I write an entire blog post, and it disappears in front of my eyes (angry shake of fist) – just breathe. It’s as simple as that. I’ve been doing it since the day I was born, but I’ve taken it for granted.

So what made me realise that I needed to learn to breathe again? I attended a workshop…

View original 282 more words

What NOT to talk about when you are eating out…

Cartoons, Moaning

For Valentines Day my husband took me out for a meal at a lovely bistro in our town. It’s not been open long – since November. It has only recently started to open in the evenings due to popular demand. Firstly it was nice to walk in and not have to give our names for our table reservations because we are such regulars. Originally I wasn’t planning on having a starter but I decided to go for prawn and crab spring rolls with a chilli sauce – really lovely. My husband had curried carrot soup – which I had a taste of – it was silky and smooth and full of flavour. I then had a steak – I love steak, it is usually something I will have to test out somewhere I’ve not eaten at before and as this was our first evening meal there, I gave it a go. I wasn’t disappointed. Triple cooked chips were divine! My husband had a gourmet burger – he had to leave some of his chips because he wanted to save room for pudding. We both had chocolate fondant for dessert – a lovely chocolate cake with oozing chocolatey goodness inside with some lush honeycomb ice cream on the side – accompanied with lovely lattes. It was a really nice evening, despite the wind raging on outside with the storms we have been subjected to, it kept pulling the door open a bit and banging it, but what can you do with a stormy night like that other than lock us all in?

The only bad part was the table behind my husband. A table of four (the only table of four on Valentines Day). I couldn’t work out the relationships of the people, it seemed like it was a Mum and a Dad and their daughter but the other girl that was with them – no idea. Daughter’s friend? Cousin? It was her birthday apparently. At times it sounded like the daughter had only recently met the girl, and then at times it sounded like she too was a daughter. They were a group that was hard to ignore. Normally I can be pretty focused on who I am dining with, but found it hard that night. The daughter talked so loudly it was untrue. Slightly posh but telling such boring stories. I would be waiting for the punchline but it wouldn’t come. When someone has to sit and explain what they have just said in order to justify why it was ‘so funny’ then perhaps it isn’t?


Annoying woman artistically rendered by LoisLaneSavesTheDay

A bit before we left she topped it off with probably one of the weirdest things I’ve had the displeasure to overhear at a restaurant. “Well I had the implant but I had to have it removed.” Unknown girl: “Oh yeah, I had the implant too.” Daughter “It like totally messed me up so I had to have it taken out. It was put in here (points to place on arm) and they took it out here (points slightly further down.)” Mother “Well so many girls are given it these days without knowing the side effects.” Daughter “Oh yah, it made me feel rotten.” Needless to say the Dad said nothing. At what point in life do you hold a loud conversation about contraception with your parents in a restaurant full of people on Valentines Day? Hopefully never.

I’ve overheard plenty of loud people in my time, but that was pretty horrid. Whenever my best friend and I go out to eat we usually seem to encounter some great examples. Years ago we were having an Italian meal in a town he was living in at the time. There were some pretty drunk posh people. (It always seems to be posh people.) One bloke in particular kept going on about THEO in BURMA. Bloody lovely bloke, bloody amazing place. So we gather.


I’m sure some people would lap this up… (Image by LoisLaneSavesTheDay)

Then there are the people who seem to enjoy being twats to the staff. Not being horrid to them, but just being weird, over friendly. My Dad occasionally does this. Some years ago we were having a nice lunch out and the poor waiter looked a bit like Prince Harry – according to my Dad. He didn’t hear the end of it. We were all pleading with Dad to stop and leave the poor boy alone. Mind you my Dad is like this with plenty of people, never ask him if he has anything he shouldn’t in his bags at the airport for example. He is incapable of just saying ‘No’. He will say ‘Oh, only a couple of bombs and an assault rifle’ while my mother cringes and awaits the arrival of airport security.

Then there are the people for whom nothing is ever right. The people with such high standards that they would complain at a Burger King if their ketchup sachet wasn’t at room temperature. My ex’s parents used to run a restaurant, his Dad was the chef and pretty much everywhere we went for a meal was judged against his cooking. Every meal out with them was a miserable affair. If I wanted to order something that someone else in our group had ordered – it wasn’t allowed. We all had to order different things so he could inspect the different dishes and taste them all. He would peer at food as it was being delivered to other tables. On the way home we’d have to listen to him criticising every detail. His wife would always suggest they apply for a visit to get themselves some rosettes for his food, he never did. Don’t get me wrong, he was a good chef, but his food was often always seasoned with the same herbs so it all started to taste alike. Puddings kept in their cake fridge all just tasted of fridge. And as I have IBS, there are lots of foods I avoid to prevent me from getting quite ill, and sadly most meals were jam packed with things that made me VERY ill. Not so great when you live with them in a flat with only one bathroom which doesn’t have a lock on the door…