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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson


When I posted that yesterday, the smart comments about walking up the hill, little did I know that we actually would have to walk up the freaking hill. I thought we'd get the tram/ski lift thingy that glides up through the hill and arrives on top, but as we couldn't find the tram/ski lift station, we had to drag our sorry asses up there instead. It happened just as I imagined it would, except for the celebratory fag at the end, as my lungs were trying to leave me.

It is too hot to be a tourist today. We walked around shops this morning, I found the perfect pair of runners (but alas there is no room for new shoes in my tightly packed suitcase), we got attacked by a wasp, I bought a ring with a little yellow duck that matches my bracelet and now we are in the geeky cyber cafe that smells like sweaty boys and my last flat in Edinburgh (which also smelt like sweaty boys. You see?).

Trying to sleep in youth hostels is a skill that I seem to have lost with my recent spate of B&Bs, hotels and staying on friend's floors. I bought a CD walkman yesterday as my old one (which was 6 years old - some kind of record? Someone dig Norris McWurter up and ask) died on the journey to Brussels. I tried to block out the noise of English girls coming in and out of my hotel room by dousing myself in Aqualung, but it didn't work. While we were trying to get dressed this morning, a man kept walking in, staring at my boobs and asking if it was time to clean the room. Maybe he thought my breasts were clocks. I don't know.

This entry was posted on 01 April 2003 at 2:01 pm. 0 comments

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