I thought I saw some chillis with wings floating by, I thought there was a lake of vindaloo in the desert, but they were mirages, hallucinactions brought about by spice deprivation - it's a dangerous condition and can lead to death, or even worse bouts of "I don't like foreign fooditis."
This is what it's like without spicy food for nearly a whole week, I am suffering.
Fortunately the remedy is at hand. It's not like being a smack addict or crack piper, my addiction is catered for with a dealer on every street corner in every town centre in Britain. Yes, it's curryday again and after a week in Cambridge, living off vegetarian food and traditional British meat and potatoes, I'm absolutely gagging for a curry.
Today I'm in Purton visiting my friends kev and Julie. Kev has promised to cook Julie some prawns and couscous for dinner but I have other plans and am dragging them out for a curry - lucky them.
I have to say it wasn't a bad curry at all. I was even talked into having some cauliflower, something I normally avoid and this was also really quite good. It's a wonder of modern civilisation that even in a small dorf like Purton (population 16¾) you can get a fine spicy treat on a Friday night.
And in today's paper there was an article about a street in London getting a blue plaque for being the location
of Britain's first ever Indian restaurant - established 1810. Yes, 1810. For some inexplicable reason tears
of pride and joy welled in my eyes. I may have to make a pilgrimage.