No longer as truthful as should be deserved, some names, places and events deliberately vague to protect identities that aren't mine

Monday, 1 March 2010

There's a hole in my clogs...

Apologies for the delays in posting.  My laptop charger is borked, so updates have to be written at an actual PC which takes time.

I have returned from Amsterdam!
Times propositioned in the red light district: 20.  Times propositioned by anyone vaguely attractive: 1.  Culturally important landmarks ignored: At least 4. Euros departed UK with: €50.  Euros returned with €110.  Euros taken out at cash machines €50.  Euros spent: ~€250.  Smokes consumed: Lost count.  Narrow deaths avoided: 1  Pool games won: 3  Pool games won by anything other than default: 0

To anyone with Maths skills, you'll note I somehow came back with more euros than i started with, and spent more than i took out.  And oddly enough, I didn't actually do anything untoward to achieve this, I was just given €100 for being good drinking company.

Interesting questions you might like to ponder whilst wandering round the red light district are such things as: just what kind of restraints can i take back in my hand luggage before they'll stop me boarding the plane for safety reasons?  How big a dildo do I need to by to ensure a comical bag search scenario at the security check point?

Only I, could go to Amsterdam, completely ignore thigns like the Anne Frank Haus and Heineken Brewery, and let within 10 minutes of wandering round on my first night have found the city buddhist temple and chinese quarter, which of course, were fascinating.  I did however see the homomonument on my last day, as I was bored, had time to kill, and it was a little out of the way so seemed to work quite nicely.  I did however, ignore the exceedingly impressive gigantic church next to the homomonumnent.

My shoes broke.  I realised this whilst on the gatwick express on my way out, but by then it was too late to do anything about it.  They had massive massive holes in the back I hadn't noticed where I could poke my sock through, so definitely time to find new ones.  Which I did, however this then meant 2 days of walking round trying to break in new shoes (I am in fact, still trying to break them in).  This then resulted in blood blisters, and being forced to hobble along through the streets of amsterdam on my last day agonising and cursing myself for not just accepting wet feet until I got back to London.  Not even the numerous coffee shops could ease my cantankerous spirit on this particular matter.

FOllowing the inability to walk, I found myself thinking "you know what's nice about Amsterdam?  No fuoking birds".  For those who are unaware, I have a hatred of birds, as Jess will no doubt appreciate, and they have a habit of flying straight for my face.  Naturally, no more than 20 minutes after had I thought this, did I turn a corner to be confronted with a bird nose diving straight for me before making the ornothological equivalent of a handbrake turn in order to avoid hitting a window, and then flying haphazardly off towards the bells of some church.  Apparently though, the forces that be had decided I deserved further punishment for my earlier careless free thinking.  Whilst walking across Dam square, which was largely empty at some point during the day, some idiot childspawn of satan then decided to run into a flock of birds that were quietly minding their own business nearby and scatter them, very literally, to the winds.  And as birds do, they then all mysteriously made a beeline in their scattering from the otherside of the square towards me, flying at a mere 1m altitude, and I was forced to adopt some bizzare open air duck-and-cover manouvere in order to avoid re-enacting Hitchcock in the middle of the most prominent public square in the Netherlands.

I have however, as I said, returned.  Feet fairly worse for wear, and my throat in a lot of pain from screaming at the top of my lungs for two hours at a concert for my favourite band (the whole reason I went to amsterdam in the first place), and spending the very significant part of my evenings in a 8'x6' sealed box room designated as the hostel smoking area.  I am avoiding looking at the bank account, though I have £1000 worth of expenses soon to collect from UCL for classics play costs, so it's not too bad.  I really really need to start working again soon though. 

Mood: lost in my head (see next post)


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