I'm only back a day and I'm already missing London; the food, the clothes, the nightlife and most importantly the people. Myself and Turner had the time and had some particularly memorable moments chez Fayoona, Cáitín and Sonyo in fair old Brick Lane. I think this picture sums it up nicely. Drinking on the cheap from an old jar of Nutella whilst reading hilarious passages from some "female literature" the girls got at some open day for free.
It all started on a drizzly Friday morning. I woke up bright and early for me 8am flight only to realise at the last minute that despite all the lovely pounds I had in my pocket, I had no euro! I ran up the stairs two at a time and raided the house for some moolah but to no avail. In a moment of desperation I tore open my two coin boxes and using a combination of 50c and 20c managed to scrape together €20. Putting all the coins in a neat little box I approached Mr Taxi man cautiously and explained my story, waving my arms all over the place and gesticulating wildly in the process to demonstrate just how sorry I was. Luckily for me,he was quite a nice guy and said he needed the coins and didn't mind at all. His good nature was again verified when he didn't even count the change in the box. Then again, that would have taken quite some time.
So anyway, once I had arrived in London (the whole trip took 3.5 hours door to door, amazing!) and I had introduced everyone to Turner (who had flown in from Dublin), off we went shopping. I've been known to have my fair share of shopping sprees but Turner really took the biscuit and went wild. I on the other hand spent an entire €7 in the Primark sale for festival going clothes.
That evening we all went to this rather crap Irish bar with loads of old men smoking pipes and asking us if they could eat our cupcakes. It was quite an odd place but the company was good so who cares, right? We all got quite hammered on a few pints and started munching into some beautiful kebabs afterwards. This was probably the wrong idea as the food was pretty sedating and we all started to feel sleepy and sat on the pavement. This was probably not the best of ideas in retrospect considering a car nearly knocked us down trying to park. After a few more pubs, we crawled home to catch up on some much needed zzzs.
The next day is when the real party began. Drinking sesh began at 12pm (ok so maybe a few minutes before that but I'd hate to write AM and sound like an alco) and we all went off to the Fair Day music festival. Top acts included Phoenix, Caribou and Moderat, although Cáitin got a tad upset when the latter kept up building up the dance music for ages and screamed "Would you ever just drop the beat man." This is why she's my friend.
After 11 hours of dancing we got the (wrong) bus into (the far side of) town (where we didn't want to go). Myself and Cáitín continued the party at some random bar where Sting was having a party with his daughter. Unfortunately we didn't quite get to see him as he was in the VIP section *sigh* The partying continued until the early hours of the morning and included many other stories I won't bore you with. I swear none of them are the least bit embarrassing.
Sunday was a good hangover day with some bed band practise and eating thrown in for good measure. I got home to Ireland by 11ish that night and I was out for the count in minutes.
Now to recuperate for next week's holiday. :-)
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