The Great Western Rail experience;
“Hello, can I have a cheese and tomato toastie on crusty farmhouse white bread, please?”
“Sorry, but we don’t have any tomatoes.”
“Ah, never mind. Toasted cheese then.”
“Er, we are out of cheese”.
“Oh. Toast then.”
“Yes, but it will have to be brown bread.”
For further great British food tales see Everyday at 8pm.
All out of Toto lyrics for now. Boy, that is one repetitive song. Anyway, here is the truck somewhere in Sub-Saharan Africa.
Part 3 of the overland saga and I’ve even grubbed around in the attic for my old sketch pad.
Sleeping. By the time we reached the desert we slept where we lay our sleeping mats. Scattered around the truck in two’s and three’s. Generally as far from the canoodling couples as possible. There were no roads, just space. It was pretty cold at night, so we’d bundle up in sleeping bags and doze off watching the shooting stars party.
The thing with going on an overland trip in a Bedford truck is speed. It doesn’t really go more than about 40 miles an hour and Chalfont St. Peter to Kenya is quite a long way. A routine quickly set in. Up around 6.30am, bit of nosh then drive till lunchtime, bit of nosh, then park and camp and nosh around 6.30pm.
Crazy, crazy days. This is an unexpectedly sneaky early view of the next instalment of this long, sorry tale because I’ve LOST MY PASSPORT AGAIN. And, I need the number for a passport form I’ve witnessed tonight. After relentlessly looking for the actual passport, I searched for possible electronic records of the number (on old e-tickets, etc). That turned up this email reminding me vividly of the Moroccan weekend away; Continue reading
Oh boy. Another travel-tastic tale. For once, I am not responsible for this. It was those bastards at Air Canada. I was flying to Ottawa. So, so excited to be on an all expenses paid, invited trip. Anyway, since boarding, I’d had a tasty lunch; a lentil curry and rice jobby. I watched some tv, had a doze and a few hours later got woken up by the air steward putting a box on my tray. It was a funny box, like a happy meal box. No one around me had a box. “Wow”, I thought, “I must have won a prize. This is a truly great day”. (New readers should take a shufty at this earlier post. Seasoned readers will probably be wondering when I’m going to stop thinking this). Continue reading
I’ve had a lot of nagging to do the next bit of this saga, so here it is. Just to summarise the story so far, we are at Heathrow on our way to Marrakech for a weekend away, Richy has retrieved the tickets, wallet and passports he left on the roof of the car in the long stay car park at Terminal 2, and we’re at Terminal 4 where we’ve just found out our plane leaves in 50 minutes from Gatwick. (see Part 1 and Part 2) Continue reading
Richy, Petey and I were on our way back from a trip from Amsterdam. They had both been working and I’d had a chilled time (including my first experience of a flotation tank). Anyway, as usual there was a cock up over flying times and Petey got us to the airport about 5 hours before we had to. We all got so bored hanging around, drinking endless cups of coffee and dozing, that we nearly missed the call for our flight and ended up running to the gate. Once in our seats there was an announcement over the tannoy. Someone had taken a passenger’s dutyfree Gitanes at the hand luggage x-ray. Continue reading
I was invited to a workshop in Ottawa last September, all expenses paid. Very nice. I decided to the extend the trip by booking an extra night myself. I booked my one night, in the same hotel, on Expedia. I arrived at the Elgin Hotel early evening. My room (Expedia) was pretty rubbish; dark, overlooking some enormous drum things, but as it was only one night and already evening, I didn’t think it would matter. About 8pm a terrible sound started, like the groaning and howling of an old ship engine. It was relentless, oppressive and SO LOUD. Continue reading
I’ve decided I’ve got to do this story in sections, otherwise it will be too long (and unbelievable… I’ve already blogged about the very end). I’ll start with the background and beginnings. Richy Rich and I booked a mammoth weekend away last November. Three nights in Marrakech. As I kept boring everyone I came across beforehand, even spending time with Richy in the airport was gonna be amazing, let alone the actual trip. Continue reading