Revenge of the Oyster

Food.
It provides us with sustenance, pleasure and occasional indigestion. It enriches our prime-time and Sunday morning television viewing and has done wonders for the sales of glossy hard-backed books with slightly inflated prices.It is, without a doubt, the stuff of life and I have hitherto had a long and deeply satisfying relationship with it.

Now, however, my trust and affection have been poisoned - quite literally - in the shape of a nefarious oyster. That Queen of the ocean, whose very spit is so highly prized, has reduced me to a state of quivering fever and an entirely unecessary level of intimacy with the porcelain bowl in the bathroom. Quite aside from the unpleasantness of food poisoning itself, the fall out is horrible to anyone with tastebuds. I have been a martyr to my stomach and subsisted (I refuse to say 'lived') on a diet of mushy white rice; mushed-up white bread; freshly boiled water and drastically boiled chicken. Boiled white fish was suggested but frankly the thought of any type of sea creature sent me dancing off to the bathroom again.

Upon my return to work today, a well-meaning colleague deposited a huge Easter Egg on my desk in all its chocolatey-glory. I wanted to weep.

The most irritating aspect of the whole situation is the attitude of my friends who almost without exception have greeted me with the words "serves you right for eating it alive". For the record, can I just point out that if the damn thing was still alive when I ate it I wouldn't be ill! It gave up the ghost at precisely the wrong moment- from a Becky-centric world view, naturally.

Although Food and I will have to rebuild our relationship slowly, I feel confident that in time we shall once more have as thrivingly brilliant a connection as before. My horoscope speaks of fruitful encounters to come...

Righto, time for another cup of nutritious boiled water.