No more shit...

Life really does delight in biting you in the bum sometimes. So be careful. Don’t tempt fate. J

You know how the other day I was saying that you really should never ever ever share a bathroom when you’re detoxing?  Well.  I was due to head off to check out another detox in a few days’ time – this time not so far from home, in Somerset even. And it looked great.  A week of juice fasting – you know, just my game. Lots of yoga and Pilates and meditation. Yum.  Conveniently forgetting the twice-daily colonics bit.

And then, I get back and the PR gives me a call. It's kinda hard to concentrate cos Asbo is barking in my ear and wafting foul breath over me so I'm twisting in some kind of yogic contortion to get away from his sphere of influence.

But eventually I made out this:

‘Umm, we’ve been having feedback from journalists about this and, I should warn you…’ 

Er, yes? 

‘Well, you’ll have your own room of course…;

Er, yes?  Oh what?  WHAT? No! You know what’s coming, right?

‘But, see, you’ll be sharing a cottage.’

‘So, cutting to the chase, I’ll be sharing a bathroom with a stranger?’

‘Er, yes, basically.’

‘And this is the place where you’re supposed to do colonics on yourself twice a day, right?’ 

See, I can’t get away from the shit.

‘Oh, don’t worry about that; you’ll have your own board.’ 

Er, right. Just like I had my own rectal nozzle. Life is generous.

‘You’ll make a schedule. It’ll be fine.’

Well, I fear, to my shame, that I had a bit of a prima donna moment.  I mean, it’s one thing sharing a bathroom if you’re going to a budget b&b or camping or wotnot. But at a place that charges around a grand for a week?  Er, I don’t think so.  And, when you’re supposed to be toddling off every morning and afternoon to crap?  Great.

So I came off the phone and fired off an email to the organizers saying basically WTF?  And, hey ho, they got back to me and said… ‘Well, we were hoping to upgrade you but, as it happens, it’s all off now anyhow as the owners of the property have decided they don’t want any more journalists coming.’

So, that’s that. No more shit.  And at first I thought, there you go Jane – all your own fault for being such a fecking spoilt bitch.  For putting on airs and acting the big I Am.  Cos really, I never do that assertion stuff.  Ever.  Usually I’m just bloody grateful for whatever I get given.

But then again, who knows, maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe it’s for the best. The idea of twice-daily colonics was doing my, er, head in.  But I can’t help but feel a little disappointed.  Cos, no matter how much you tell yourself you can do the juicing at home, and the yoga and Pilates and meditation too, no problem – when it comes to it, you don’t, do you?  Not properly.  The dog barks, the phone rings, you have to work and clean the house and wash the clothes and so on, and then you fart around on the Internet and before you know it, your child’s home from school and priorities shift all over.  Then again, maybe that’s the challenge, huh?