Liquid lunch

Strange thing the body. I drank six, possibly seven pints of lager yesterday afternoon, and this morning the shonky scales in the bathroom read 16st 1lbs, which is less than what I weighed last week. I thought that was odd. Especially as I binged on a Burger King on the train back from London late last night.
I spent the day in London yesterday as it was my brother's stag do, so all thoughts of dieting, training or being vaguely healthy were abandoned, which felt pretty good if I'm honest.
In keeping with recent bad behaviour, the usual slimline soda and lime was kicked into touch for many pints of beer, each one slipped down as easy as the last.
Some hours later when I reached Paddington Station I realised I hadn't eaten very much so could probably justify something like a double whopper with cheese, with fries and onion rings, to help soak up the booze. It's been a long time since I dined out on something as disgustingly delicious as that, and I think my body is not used to it any more.
About half an hour after eating it, as I was sat on the train desperately hoping nobody would need to sit next to me, I started to feel a bit sick.
I realised that it was the massive amount of salt I had digested. It felt as if it was clogging my arteries as every second passed. I felt almost dizzy with the rush of the salt coursing through my blood stream, and the sheer effort my internal organs had to make to deal with it.
There was nothing for it but get a cup of coffee and counteract the effects of the salt with a massive sugar boost courtesy of a big bag of Minstrels.
Then I fell asleep, to be woken shortly after leaving Swindon by some MORONS who decided to play some dice game a few seats down and used a cup to shake the dice making more noise than I thought was possible or polite.
Didn't they know there were half drunk people trying to sleep and forget the horror of dealing with public transport.
I moved to a different carriage, but not before making a bit of a huff of having to move and giving them a bit of a look as I passed by them.
I had a good time in London but had completely forgotten what a dump it is in places.
I always loved the tube when I was a student in London, there was something about disappearing underground and popping up a few minutes later into the bright sunlight somewhere completely new and undiscovered. This would often happen as I tried to get home after a session of cheap beer consumption and get off at the wrong stop, or be going in completely the wrong direction.
But yesterday I was, almost, shocked how dirty and dingy and generally depressing the whole thing is.
Maybe it was just the stretch I was on, and I know some parts of it have been overhauled, but the journey from Paddington to Southgate was just miserable.
The lighting seemed really dim and gloomy for a start, and the platforms were really depressing and looked like they haven't been tidied up since the end of WW2. I almost expected to see Pearly kings and queens sheltering from the Luftwaffe. I can only assume none of the judges from the Olympics Committee used the underground when they visited London as you wouldn't want anybody to come and see that.
It's the city equivalent of that patch of damp you don't want visitors in your house to notice.
But it also reminded me how much I enjoy living and working in Bristol, and not having to put up with that every day.