Bah, bah and thrice bah
I've just come back from Addenbrookes, where I was told I had coeliac disease and recommended to go on a permanent gluten-free diet.
Looks as if I won't be going to Monday evening geek pizza any more then. Bah. Or eating Chinese food with the Gallery crowd on Sundays (despite the main carbohydrate being egg fried rice, I'm told soy sauce and such things tend to be problematic). Bah. Or drinking beer ever again, which is at least three bahs all by itself.
It almost wouldn't be so bad if I'd had perceptible symptoms at any point; at least then I'd have some reason to hope that something would improve in return for all the aggro. But no; I only got checked out because my sister (who did have real symptoms) was diagnosed coeliac, and on the basis that it's partly genetic I was told I ought to get checked. So now a bunch of gastroenterologists have stormed into my apparently perfectly good life and told me to stop eating lots of nice things.
BAH.
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I've actually seen ready-made gluten-free pizza bases in Sainsburys, so I don't have to stop eating pizza completely. I just don't get to go out for social pizza in pizza restaurants with gangs of my pizza-eating friends; I have to sit on my own at home and eat pizza instead.
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Asking pubs to stock gluten free beer might also work.