Home again, and I can’t tell you how much I look forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight. Sleep just in general would be good, actually, because, true to form, I hardly slept last night due to stress on account of flying and all. I can’t understand how I manage to get so worked up about travelling, but there it is.
Where were we? Oh, yes, Wigtown… Well, made my way from Wigtown on Friday to arrive in London in the early evening. Martin (he was going to London for the weekend anyway and since the sailing never manifested itself I figured I might as well grab the chance to meet up with him and travel back from Stanstead with Norwegian meaning I’d land at Gardemoen rather than Torp) arrived lateish, too late for the pub, in fact, which we made up for Saturday. Traipsed around town (Hyde Park, Oxford Street (including HMV, bad idea), Lincoln’s Inn, Royal Mile Whiskies (another bad idea), National Gallery, the South Bank and so on) and had a lovely time. The weather was over-friendly (I’m not all that partial to temperatures over 20ish degrees (celcius), but at least I suppose I’m glad it didn’t rain).
Martin’s not going back until tomorrow (lucky guy – the fact that I’m looking forward to sleeping in my own bed doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have liked to stay longer), so he saw me off at Victoria Coach Station this afternoon and no doubt headed off to have a celebratory pint (or ten). Celebratory because today’s his birthday – not because he’d seen me off (at least I hope not). Unfortunately – you might even say unpolitely (if that were a word) – I only remembered that it was his birthday five minutes after I got on the coach. Well, at least I sent an sms. Come to think of it, perhaps he did want to celebrate seeing me off, at least he’ll get his pints to himself – despite the fact that I have yet to find a beer I like I insist on tasting all of them. I have this irrational hope that I’ll suddenly “snap out of it” and think “well, this is delicious” or something. Pretty stupid, really, as A. it’s very unlikely and B. why would I want to like beer in the first place?
Oooh, gotta go get pizza out of oven. Mmm, pizza…
Voice in my head: Gareth Gates – It could happen to anyone (No, it bloody well couldn’t! Get out of my head you stupid git!)