OK, let's forget the fact that by eating a giant packet of raw runner beans makes me look slightly odd and celebrate what got me through my crisis.
I started feeling slightly ill some time after eating them (I had since eaten a packet of caramel snack-a-jacks - very nice), and thought it would pass. I drank lots of water as I was beginning to feel a bit dehydrated, and shortly after I was looking at the bottom of the toilet as I found myself reunited with my caramel snack-a-jacks (oddly, still quite nice the second time round).
I wasn't sure what had caused it (who would have thought some lovely looking runner beans could be so cruel?), so who did I turn to in my time of need? Was it NHS direct for advice on what to do? My Ward Sister sister (sounds odd I know), or my Radiography mother? (she'd only laugh and tell me to get on with it anyway), a doctor perhaps?
No my friends, it was Google.
Whilst holding a bag to my face in case I didn't make it back to the toilet in time I fired up my browser and was quickly diagnosed. Google told me exactly what I was experiencing, why, what was going to happen to me in the next few hours, and most importantly, when I would recover.
Examining the empty packet of runner beans with Andy and exchanging a quip or two (he laughed at me) I was armed with the knowledge of the immediate future and I knew I had to get home as things for me were soon going to get worse.
Once home (let's not discuss the journey) it did indeed get worse but because Google had been right about everything so far I knew that it would only last 3-4 hours and so by 8pm I would start to feel better.
Surely enough at 7:30pm I had one last bout of sickness and went back to bed knowing that that was probably the last of it. Andy strolled in at 8pm (what about me, eh?!), just as I was getting up and feeling much better.
Sitting down to a cup of tea and some (cooked) beans on toast, I thanked Google for getting me through my crisis.