I Hate Camels

I hate camels. I've not met all that many of them, but the all the camels I have met are revolting, bad tempered and nasty creatures. One time in the very small desert town of Pushka (north west India) I needed to get past a herd of them that were parked at the town gates. I know camels well enough not to dawdle - my acquaintance didn't. At the very instant he was mocking my fear, the snidey bastard got a face-full of camel mucous flung at him from a malicious head-flick by the alpha-camel.

It was a marvellous moment in my life.

The other thing about camels that I find as off-putting as their tendency to hurl rancid sputum into the face of infidels, is their weird moulting thing where their fur comes off in rotting clumps. And since starting my detox regime, I am often reminded of camels every morning when I examine my tongue.

I'm astonished at the large amount of gunk that appears every night on my tongue. I am now scraping passionately every morning and am now able to do so without the problems of retching (that passed on the third session). The sticky goo is now coming away in clumps.

If I still worked at the hospital, I'd be tempted to ask the pathology labs to run a test on it - I suspect either candida (I don't have any other sign of candida infection, and there is no soreness), or I have camel disease.

I'm moulting...my tongue is moulting!

A quick google-groups search reveals that many others report a similar event upon giving up alcohol and also that many people have great difficulty spelling t o n g u e, tending to prefer the more acceptable alternative of "tounge" of course.


Earlier, I was aware that my Kombucha culture was to arrive imminently, so I headed into town to buy supplies. I needed vinegar and a bag of white sugar for the culture and so I headed to Iceland as it is nearby. Iceland is cheap if you like to buy things like appalling pizzas, meatless pork pies and "chicken" nuggets and so I tend to avoid the place.

However, on entering I collected a tray of 15 king-size eggs for a pound before locating my sugar and vinegar and made my way to the tills. When it comes to grocery stores, I have a pet theory that the staff wages and the overall quality of the food is directly proportional to how healthy the checkout staff appear to be. And I must say that whilst the Tescos' staff all look quite healthy (and one in particular is quite, quite lovely), in every Iceland store I have ever dared enter, the staff always look quite emaciated.

Also, their skin tone and husky tones suggest that they all smoke 60-per-day and really need a good healthy meal - preferably with some wholesome green things.

On scanning my 15 eggs, bag of sugar and bottle of vinegar, my haggard and emaciated retail representative looked at me quizzically.

"Sugar omelette," I said as by way of an explanation.

She gave me a sad look of recognition and asked for £2.16.
I guess for some people, like camels, life can be very tough indeed.