Couch Surfing

I've left England for now, via a five hour bus ride prefaced by an hour and fourty five minute train ride which required waking up at 5:30am.

I'm in Glasgow and I'm couchsurfing in an awesome flat with an interesting story attached. It's also a store house for porn props. I've not been snooping but apparently there are all sorts of . . . things hidden about the place.

Last night there were a couple of other folks crashing there, and we all went out to some pubs. The first few were uneventfull (think out of key singers and stuff) although the streets were full of people! We tried to get into some of the better places around but at entry prices of £8-£15 we decided to stick with the smaller venues. Eventually we ended up in a basement pub somewhere off Sauchiehall Street and I ordered something on tap that looked cool. I found out 2/3 of the way through pouring my pint that they were out of what i ordered, so I got the 2/3 pint for free. Then some dudes saw my hat and moustache and they came over to chat.

At first I thought they were just friendly lads although a bit touchy feely. They got me a few pints and chatted with my friends and I. Then after a time (a relatively short time) I got the distinct impression that they were trying to pick me up. This suspision was confirmed later that evening when one of them looked at me and said that he had to level with me. That things weren't going as he had planned. That he had misread my hat and moustache and that there was no way I was going to sleep with him. I confirmed this statement and we ended the night with a big group hug in the street involving a random couple and lots of unecessary jumping.

It was weird, but whatever.

Can't update my profile picture

I'm looking forward to being able to sit down and update my blog porperly, but that mightn't be for a while. I'd like to make it look like I care about keeping it up to date (try some of the links to the right. I dare you) and I will fix it all up eventually.

I'm in London now but will be going back to the northern farm tomorrow. Well, I'll make it as far as Manchester, i still have to buy a ticket to the Wirral (I really should be doing that now!) My first night in London I met Patty Wagon and he took me to the hostel he was staying at. It wasn't cheap (think $40/night. Thanks exchange rate!) but the stories we have from the night should last for a long time.



There was an 80s party the night we arrived so Patty and I decided to attend. We met lots of people and were having a laugh when suddenly a Kiwi guy I was talking to took offence to something (nothing I did, something must have snapped in his head) and he started getting agressive and pushy. He was a dick so I stopped talking to him and Patty and I decided we'd just go to our room and hit the hay.

Upon arriving we encountered our most thoughtfull roomate Lyndsay from California who was back from a job interview/date and had the lights on in the room and wasn't trying to be quiet at all. Patty and I talked to her for about 45 minutes trying to convince her that the £300 dinner she's just had with a 40 year old man, during which the conversation had turned to the topic of sex, might be an indication that she was going to be expected to do more than just watch his daughter. She agreed eventually but seemed to have no problem with it at all.

Then we went to sleep.

Then I woke up to the sounds of her sleeping with one of our other roommates. That went on for about 45 minutes and then I went back to sleep. When I woke up I got out of bed and Lyndsay was sitting on the edge of her bunk wrapped in blankets.

"Hey, can you pass me a shirt?"
I did.
"No, not that one, can you pass me that shirt?"
I did. I figured fine, she needs a shirt, no biggie.
"Can you pass me a pair of pants?"
I did, and in the process discovered the underwear of Anthony which had lost the previous night and which Lyndsay had refused to help him find because she was tired.

The next day we met a stranger in the street that tried to sell us some roasts of beef he had in a plastic bag and I'm pretty sure a man beside me in the train station toilet was masturbating in the urinal next to me.

London is a world class city.