Not exactly a sickie, but involving plenty of sick
So, there we found ourselves in the week of freedom following exams, in my corridor of Penbryn Hall of Residence, Aberystwyth University. What did we do? We did what all students do when facing free time. Though I can't remember, I'm told that upon returning to our communal kitchen from the union that night I began necking whisky from the bottle.

Y'know when you wake up with the kinda hangover you KNOW is going to be bad? I think the thing that gave it away for me was the way I passed out when going over to my sink to get some water. Its wierd to blink then find you're looking at the ceiling with a (suddenly much worse) headache.

So, its always bad when you need to exert some kind of effort when hung over, and there are plenty of stories about how terrible work is while afflicted...Well beat this:



I climbed a fucking mountain.

Cader Idris: Second highest point of Wales, a particularly high country and something we'd decided to do with an idle day earlier that week. I'd wanted to do it, and decided the hangover would break before too long and that I could bear it like a man.

Yeah, so I'm a sodding idiot.

The journey there didn't help. Small, winding roads taken at high speed by an aggresive Cornish driver. I believe I may have set some kind've world record, "fastest vomit ever" at 60 mph. Apparently my preparation was very grim - Face changes colour, glasses off, window down, blech. A moment which has been likened to the armament scene from The Iliad. What helped even less was "Nice" James leaning out of the passenger seat window cheering while my sick splattered off the car. Thanks, you bastard.

Still, got 'em back...I found the large gob of snot/vomit stuck to the rear lights hilarious, as I was the only one with an empty stomach.

You think it ends here? Thats what I thought.

So we climb this mountain type thing. Its hot, and steep, and we all get very thirsty. Hint for the future, kids: don't drink lots of water on an empty stomach. Before too long, I'm feeling pretty bad again. Throwing up pure liquid is rather difficult, due to that "gravity" thing they tell us about occasionally. So here we find ourselves, the lads trying (and failing) to not laugh, and myself spasming "Like you were being electrocuted, or shot, or something." Cue yellow water shooting out of my mouth in a torrent - Apparently, it pushed the grass down and could be heard from a distance. Apparently, a woman walked up with a camera to take a photo of the (admittedly lovely) Welsh vista in front of us, took one look at your death-spasming narrator, then turned around and went back down. Truly, never have I hurled up my guts in a more lovely place.

Still not over I'm afraid. Have you ever tried walking for hours without any stamina? I hadn't slept for very long, I hadn't eaten anything and I had the hangover exhaustion. And we weren't even halfway up yet. Truly, walking around that ridgeline, I have never come so close to wishing for death. We were maybe three quarters of the way around, past the steep and difficult parts, when the hangover broke and I could eat again. I think I saw the face of God.

Sorry about length, but this mountain changed me forever, forging the weak iron of Cheesecake into the solid steel blade of Cheesecake+. This is no longer Cader Idris to me, but some kind of God-sent trial to burn the impurities from our very souls.
(Cheesecake Like a cake...But cheese, Sun 11 Jun 2006, 13:18, Reply)