Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Entering my fourth decadeYes, I'm back. I've been extremely poor at blogging lately I know, but sometimes life gets in the way and you just don't seem to find the time.
But anyways, as you can tell from the title, today I reached the big three-o. Guess it's time to grow up soon...
My christmas was pretty quiet. By far the most interesting thing was my flight home. It took three days, after the UK was blanketed in fog. Suffice to say, I spent a day in a nice French hotel and a night on a not-so-nice French coach. No toilets and drivers who were, shall we say, "Parisian" in their attitude toward customer service...
The only plus point is the 6 brand new friends I made on the journey. A mixture of ex-pat Brits and Canadians, we had our first reunion on saturday, to celebrate my birthday! WooHoo! I saw out my twenties in style. I'm ashamed to say that I haven't been so drunk in years.
I blame the shots they kept on buying. After far more than was sensible for a man who avoids liquors like the plague, for good reason, I jumped at the chance to carry on drinking at a karaoke bar. Bad move.
The bar was pretty cool. It was actually a series of private rooms (it would make a good brothel)and we were meeting some friends of friends of friends, who had booked a booth. Having turned up I treated them all to shocking renditions of Guns n Roses "Sweet child o mine" and Robbie Williams "Angels". I promised the ladies in the room that the Robster, whom none of them had heard of, would get them moist. Sadly, I didn't. Any lingering dreams of pop stardom were shattered when I heard my voice over the speakers. Ouch.
Seeing as I didn't know anyone, I didn't feel compelled to stay with our party - whom I wouldn't recognise under normal lighting anyways, and somehow found my self drinking beer at somebody else's birthday party. Then there was the Hen party who pinched my camera - when I finally got it back, the memory card was half full of random shots of people I don't know - and my (clothed) arse - the cheeky bitches had photographed a re-enactment of them stealing my camera from my supposedly secure camera case, whilst I chatted with the bride at the bar! Methinks I need to find a camera shop before I take my camera on any sightseeing tours. The next person to nick it might not return it.
Anyways, I don't remember the taxi drive home, but I do remember an additional stop at the cashpoint (shudder - you don't want to know how much I spent that night). I awoke sunday with a mouth like a sandpit, a throbbing headache and a string of shiny green beads around my neck. Now that's what I call a night out folks!
FOR YOUR PERUSAL