No man no van
The Australian never showed. Two and a half hours of waiting with all of my possessions in boxes, no phone call, messages left of the voicemails of three separate chirpy Antipodeans, where is my man with a van? I gave up waiting and went to the pub.
I seem to have been in the pub every day since (partly because all I had left to eat was teabags and flour and all my stuff was in boxes). I have beer fatigue (characterised by enlarged stomach, flinching at the sight of fried food, and mystery bruises). The last week has been a combination of excessive alcohol consumption, packing, unpacking, hugging miserable friends, cooking for miserable friends, and making lots of sympathetic noises. I have a soggy shoulder, a bent ear, a furry liver and almost no sense of humour left to speak of.
Quite Random is the blog of Nathan Nelson, a human male who lives in the UK and is not entirely sure what he's going to do when he grows up but is interested in international development, photography, secularism, technology, music and movies and other things anyone of his age would be.
He’s probably bitter that they lost the cricket and couldn’t face an hour with a whinging Pom. How was he to know that you wouldn’t know a thing about it? Are you moved now - do you have Internet in the new gaff?
hrmm. Mystery bruises, I have one on my right hip and right thigh. One would think we would be having a lot more fun getting banged up, but no, just a transistion period.