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Me and the Ex went for a meal at Sailors in Oxford - one of the best sea-food resteruants in the country. We have been planning this for weeks and I even rang the day before to check what was going to be in stock for the day of question to prepare my choices.

At the time, I was a bookie, and I basically worked 90 to 100 hours a week, and this was my only night out in a fortnight.

The day before, the Mrs goes to the doctors complaining that her balance and vision are distorted, and the diagnose vertigo, and give her some pills to sort everything out.

6pm arrives and off into Oxford we go. Get onto town, couple of drinky-poo's and to the food for 8pm. Sit down, order Mussels to start and a platter of Tuna and Bass steaks for main.

Starters arrive and go down well. Ex starts looking a bit peaky. Plates collected away and we wait for the main course. Ex dissappears to the loo, main course arrives, Ex comes back. Says "i have a problem, I can't close my mouth". I laugh, continue eating. She then complains she can't open her mouth. I take this a bit more serious, as bed-time action later may become tricky... I look at her, and it looks as though an invisible car jack is opening her mouth. I could have fitted my entire foot into her mouth. She want's to go. I say I'll just finish my meal. Which I do, bloody lovely as well.

Off we go to the John Radcliffe Hospital. Me semi-pi55ed, her with her coat covering her mouth.

Get there - long story short, the medication has a weird reaction to something in her meal, and causes her mouth muscles to contract and basically cause her to have no control over her mouth. Spent the next 3 hours in A&E with her being given increasing amounts of sedatives and muscle relaxants to stop the problem. Got home and didn't even get a quickie.

Cracking meal for me, crap for her.
(gjb006, Mon 1 May 2006, 12:19, Reply)