Ring of Fire

After a long and glorious bank holiday I find myself on Monday evening with an empty fridge. In fact, the only thing in the house is a small can of chillies bought over from Mexico by a friend of my dads.
So, its chillies for tea.
Eat one chilli.
And they are red hot. Real killers. I need bread. Or anything. But the cupboard is bare.
Except, there are some out of date weetabix. Ok, dried weetabix is a bit like eating sawdust but desperate times call for desperate measures. So, one hideous dried breakfast snack later and the crying stops & my tongue returns to a semblance of normal.
I wont be dumb enough to do that again.
Except that there are about 10 chilli’s in the tin an it would be a shame to waste them.
By chilli number 4 the weetabix are finished.
On number six I attempt to ease the pain by spreading toothpaste on my tongue. It doesn’t help. Finally I am in considerable trouble and resort to licking the carpet, but the tin is finished.

And at 8 am on Tuesday, in a cubical at Sandbach services I'm experiencing a full Johnny Cash moment

And it burns, burns, burns….