The Backpacing Begins... and I Missed the Train!
London Travel Blog› entry 9 of 121 › view all entries
Bloody Hell!!! Whilst playing/cramming with the iPod, time managed to creep up on me. âShite! Is it 1:30pm already?â Ok, normally it wouldnât take 20 minutes to get from my parents house to Nottingham train station, so I should be okay for my 2 oâclock trainâŚ. that is of course assuming I avoid match day! Bloody
So I arrived late and made my way to the hostel just after everyone else had left for Loriâs party and the 2-4-1 Mojitos. So, whatâs a guy to do? Power shower, rapid shave, change of clothes, get on the tube, arrive in Campden. With almost military systematic behaviour, I arrived (via one or two phone calls for directions) within an hour at the bar.
Alcoholically, I needed beer; actually, letâs be correct here, beers. Ah man!! I sank my fair share; in fact, I sank a lot of peopleâs fair share. It was 2-4-1 on cocktails for crying out loud! Whatâs an (English) guy supposed to do?? Set the pace, obviously!! Anyhow, as it worked out (based on a hazy and possibly factious memory), once the very âhappy hourâ was over, I grabbed Bondy, Mark and Jeff and headed off to the Oxford Arms for a few pints.
The only other humorous memory of the night (though there should be several) was of a flying Pringles can. Launched by Lori, I think, the sealed end of the tin conked Bondy on the forehead, sounding out a resonating âtingâ (Me and Lori stored this one in the memory bank for many a reminiscent moment).
So by now all of us were nicely leathered. A total of three drinks had already been spilt on my only pair of jeans (for six months!!!), certainly Bondy was responsible for one of those, Matt (a new chap to me!) was the main culprit, and Ruby, the swine, also joined the âto be avengedâ list.
We all signed Loriâs ânice to have met youâ book (swapping contact details in the process) and she received such a lovely amount of presents off people.
Now Iâm not completely sure, but I think we shared a freebie bottle of champagne and a few drinks, but I do have a vague recollection of leaning backwards against the bar as the bar manager poured neat gin down my throatâŚ. Needless to say, the rest is just a blur. My last fleeting memory was walking up a street with Jeff to meet everyone and get some food. Somehow I must have lost Jeff as he found everyone else. I assumed, incorrectly, he was still with me as I phoned Lori saying:
Matthew âWhere are you guys?â
Lori âWhere are you?â
Matthew âIâm with Jeffâ
Lori âYouâre not, Jeffâs here??â
Matthew *Looks around*
Matthew âAh shit!!âWell, I (somehow) found them and we all went back to the hostel.