The pattern of it

A brief account of the week.

Constipation, which I have avoided writing about for six weeks out of pure squeamishness. It is the thing making me most miserable and I have said nothing about it to anybody. That seems worth noticing.

The burping. Nobody mentions the burping. It is not in any leaflet and it is genuinely one of the odder experiences of my adult life.

Headache for three days running. It turned out I had barely drunk anything since Tuesday. Water, then a slow improvement, then feeling faintly stupid.

Voilà.