Yesterday was the day I had been waiting for since Christmas. Bob Dylan playing Cardiff Arena; a present to myself.
My friend and his wife also had tickets for the show and gave me a lift; a ridiculously short yet never-ending forty-minute drive on the M4 that left me nauseous and dizzy. I put it down to the excitement for the show and my friend’s driving.
Back home I went to bed feeling oddly detached from myself, pictures of Bob Dylan playing the piano in my head.
This morning my poo smells different.
My. Poo. Doesn’t. Smell. Like. My. Poo.
And I am late. Or rather, my period is.