Cureall Maybe you haven't been privy to my various complaints but during my holidays in Edmonton I was struck for numerous days with a pain in my midsection akin to that which follows a series of swift and precise blows to the stomache and guts.

It was completely unexplained, caused me to lose any appetite for a long time and, of course being from a medical family, went completely unchecked out or treated by anyone but the eyeballing of my mother.

It remained in some form or another until I got back to Vancouver where after a day when it abruptly and quiet unscientifically disappeared.

I sat and thought about the difference in what I'd done, how i'd acted and what I'd eaten compared to my Vancouver diet and came to a sad realization:

My body was simply rejecting the lack of alcohol and WASPy cooking that was being crammed into me every day.

I've lost that twitching inch of the gallbladder which can process pound after pound of barely seasoned potato, glazed meat and stews.

Going from a diet of fairly constant curries, wasabi, hot sauced bad cooking and liquor to wash it all down to the familial buffet of 'meals' was just too much to take and rather than keep it all down my stomach itself decided to go on a vacation until I could please it again with whiskey and poppadums.

The nail in the coffin was no matter how much I didn't eat it never got to me. I could go a whole day on a couple of triscuts without a headache or wooziness. My brian agreed, my l iver agreed, and bit that would rumble or hiss locked up completely until I again was the master of excessive and abusive consumption and could give it what it needed.

My body is an intricate set of machines which need to be fuelled properly.

Much like a coal plant or chernobyl.