Greed

Last weekend was our 40th Wedding Anniversary, and before any of you readers (if there be any) clutch your chest in shock and alarm, I can reassure you, I did remember it.

Gave me quite a proud feeling.

My normal anniversary/birthday/any-sort-of-event recollection rate is down around 30%, but enough hints had been dropped, many, many times over the last 2 months by SWMBO, that even my bloated, ancient and male brain heard the warning signals and made some plans.

We had agreed to forego any presents, but I've been here before and so went out and bought a rather expensive ruby and diamond ring.

I should like to make it clear that the ring was for my Beloved (SWMBO), not for me.

I also booked a table at rather a nice seafood restaurant in Wellington (The Ortega Fish Shack) and a room in a Wellington hotel, so we could have a few glasses of vino and not worry about driving home.

The day arrived, and we exchanged gifts.  SWMBO was greatly taken (she bloody well should be, as to buy it I took out all the interest in my Pension fund for the quarter)

I got a rather nice looking watch (more on this in another post)

Now the use of Greed in the title does not apply to our lovely meal; we were actually quite constrained.  Just 2 courses and a glass of Pinot Gris each, although SWMBO did order a large Old Fashioned as a digestif.

Greed reared its head on the next morning.

The hotel we had chosen had a special offer available, $25 reduction on the room charge and a full buffet breakfast for $1.  Being a greedy careful Scot, I couldn't refuse, so I ordered the breakfast.

On the morning,  after a good night's sleep in the hotel, the buffet breakfast was pretty impressive.  Not impressive by 5* Asian Hotel standards, which have to be seen to be believed, but by the normal Kiwi standards.

Asian Hotel breakfasts are great.

Bacon, pork sausage, chicken sausage, creamed mushrooms, baked beans, hash browns, scrambled egg, poached eggs, fried eggs, and grilled tomatoes.  I won't bother describing in detail the "healthy options", but they did have some nice croissants, and a good selection of cold meats and cheeses.

I went a wee bit nuts.

I piled my plate with 3 or 4 spoonfuls of the scrambled egg and just 2 spoonfuls of mushrooms.  4 pork sausages, but just 3 of the chicken sausages.  This caused a wee bit of angst with the next customer at the buffet, because I had finished the sausages available, and just about finished the scrambled eggs.

HHhhmmmmm . . . BACON

Then I did go nuts.  I put 23 rashers of bacon on the plate (they just fitted in the space). The other browsing buffet hunters looked on in shock (you guessed it, last of the bacon) horror, and I like to think, just a little awe.  I added on one slice of tomato for health's sake, but managed to refuse the temptation of the hash browns and beans, as being too carbohydrate rich.  I do have to watch my health you know.

I polished off the lot, washed down with 2 glasses of orange juice and 2 mugs of coffee.  I was pretty full at the end, but just managed enough room for 2 croissants, liberally smothered with butter.

At that point I was full, and felt totally replete, with just a little voice wishing that some black pudding would have been nice.

It was about 4 hours later, after we had arrived home that the meat sweats and salt thirst hit.

The meat sweats were not too bad, but the salt thirsts were not nice at all.  I was desperate to drink enough water to stop the thirsts, but then my stomach got too full, and then I felt sick.

This went on into the night, but the full horror didn't appear until about 35 hours later, when my digestive system finished dealing with the massive load of protein, fats and salt.

I will not give any of those details in an attempt to protect the delicate sensibilities of my dear readers (if there are any)


Oh, I just realised, no pretty images.

Well, there is a toilet in the background