July 11, 2012

My 26th Year BARCELONA- PARIS- LONDON

Ooh how the years fly by, eh? My 26th is just drawing to a sweet finish and I boldly approach 27 with no employment, no home and no worries... even though I probably should considering I actually have zero monies or digs, I try to hold my hands up to worry and say 'would you kindly fuck off please?

So what can I tell you about my 26th year? Well, it was a bit of a whore at times. Remember when I got fired for simply calling in sick one day? And then they didn't tell me how to claim benefits properly and I lost over a thousand euros? And then when I was offered an amazing position but they then decided to rebuff me on account of calling the school that I was fired from? Ha bloody ha. What a string of good fortune! All hilarity aside, it wasn't that bad a year really. In fact, if anything, I learned a whole bunch of stuff about myself and started to see things in a different light. 

Let's review some of the good times starting with that epic trip back in August.

Bike Trip Barcelona-Paris-Herne Bay

I didn't really tell you much about this, did I? It was around the time that this here blog severely lacked much commentary from me at all. Never fear! I'll tell ye here!
Early one sunny morning in August last year, Rob Roy and I packed up our bags and took off on the motorcycle.
We raced off through the north of Spain, passing through little towns as we went that were having street festivals... Look! See the little fish banners and the giant people???

We stopped for a little sleep in a meadow full of wild flowers.
And then we whizzed up into the Pyrenees, taking the scenic route, which consisted of one long road winding through the mountains very slowly and there were some friendly cows having a drink. Hi there!

After we got through the mountains, we realised we had wasted a lot of time taking it easy and decided to get a move on. We raced through Toulouse, stopping for a grumpy coffee and then on and on. Eventually we made it just outside of Limoges and decided it was time to shack up for the night. We pitched a one man tent on the side of the road and clambered in, luggage, boots, helmets and all! I wondered if we could fit??

Really? In here?
Turns out we could but by God was it restricted!
What a pretty little spot it was and such a treat in the morning when the sun came up, instantly erasing the aches and pains of the cramped, cold night.

Just lovely!
We reached Paris by lunchtime and I nearly fell off the bike trying to snap the Eiffel Tower on the way in... the pictures were so crap that I decided to just alter the hell out of them.
We were pretty tired by time we reached our little hotel in Montmartre and so we had a little siesta... by the evening, we awoke and put on our smiley faces.
Ready to eat and eat we did. At Le Chateaubriand... see my article about it here.
 In all honesty, we got pretty fricking wasted. Our table was delayed for a couple of hours and we were treated to champagne in the bar next door, more champagne upon being seated and then copious amounts of red wine. The combo of exhaustion, yummy food and wine just made us want to get back to our bed and have a good night's sleep and so, once we had paid the bill, we went to catch the metro.
Early the next morning we did a little wander around. I bought some stinky cheese and we had a quick peek in the cemetery, which was full of cats.
Getting out of Paris was a total nightmare. We ended up in some dirty nook of town where upon one small patch of grass there were drug dealers, prostitutes and hobos galore. We raced away to Calais to catch the ferry across to Dover. 
Within a couple of hours, we were finally home. Surrounded by the smell of the rain and the lush green of the Kent countryside.
Rob Roy dropped me off in Herne Bay with a kiss and continued on his way to London. Merrily reunited with my pals, I dragged them from the house to watch the sun setting upon the sea and sighed a big sigh.

There's no place like home!
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