Oh hang on, I've found it in a feed on Wayback. I was clearly reading a lot of Hunter S Thomspon at the time:
It was roughly 12.45 yesterday when I felt the first stirrings, a low level rumbling deep within my inner core. An intestinal seething, anger rising from the bowels. Every dinner time is a gamble out here, a game of culinary Russian roulette, that’s the price you pay for freedom, or so I am told. Something was different this time though, I could tell by the urgency, a clammy wave of fear swept over me, a primal instinct to find a hole in the ground and bury the shame that was soon to leave. After rushing to the nearest bathroom my darkest fears were confounded, this was most certainly war.
It didn’t take long for the next attack to strike, great pains from inside, perspiration forming into glistening beads, tumbling down my warming fore. Surely the temperature is rising in here? What sort of insane bastard turns up the heating in a bathroom in the middle of a tropical day? Not to worry, our room isn’t far, a mans home is his castle and no matter how temporary the castle, and there’s only one man who holds the air con control.
It was a pained dash back to the dwelling, in a moment of madness days ago we had decided to stay atop a small mountain, the incline was evil, the sort of hill that made your calves burn just from a glance. None of this mattered though, there was only one objective to focus on, the sanctity of the toilet. Ignore the aches, remember your targets, keep those goals in focus, one wrong step here could result in disaster.
The climb was tough but victory was ours, the battle won but the war clearly not over. The waves kept coming, relentless surges from the pit of my stomach, time passed slowly, a strange delirium crept through my mind, tiptoeing in the shadows of my thoughts. The sun set hastily, a little too hastily perhaps, was it trying to hide from the shame of this bizarre charade that unfolded before it? None of this was my business, I had bigger problems to deal with.
At 05:30 there was a change in tactics, natures way had no role in this mindless battle. Re-enforcements were needed, drugs were the only option. There was no way I could muster a recce for supplies, but the machine was at hand, a brave soldier willing to give her life for the cause. The plan was formulated, co-ordinates given. Would this fearless soldier make it back alive? God only knew, it was in His hands, it was our only hope.
By 7.30 the end was near, re-enforcements had been a success, everything was firming up, and by 9am the war was over. Who knows what the future holds now, eating is a long way away but at least its on the horizon. The battle has been brutal, will lessons be learnt? Only time will tell.