September 2005

So, my conclusion following my first night in a hostel: Why, aside from money, would anyone ever choose to stay in one of these places? What a pain in the ass. People are loud and sceptical, the bed was uncomfortable, people (both in the hostel and the street) are drunk and noisy, the floorboards creak, […]

I have to make this brief because, in spite of the hostel’s free internet, there is only one computer and there are people waiting. I moved into the hostel this morning. It’s £13.50/night, which isn’t terrible, but not nearly as good as all the stories I’ve heard made them out to be (I guess Europe

Out of the hotel and into a hostel. I like that they have “Frasier” on at 9am. It’s a good way to start the day. Nothing else going on at the moment. Beautiful day — surprisingly bright and warm, unless there’s a breeze, at which point it’s freezing. I somehow managed, in a train ride,

I wish I could write about all the wonderfully fantastic, culturally enriching, envy-inspiring things I’ve done today, but I can’t. I really didn’t do much of anything today. I had breakfast (these people eat way too much in the morning), took a shower, packed, checked email, checked out, laughed at the woman stationed at the

Photos! Some of them! Finally! Here.

Day 7: EdinburghWell now. My week in London has ended and I have arrived in Scotland. The past few days in London were lovely. Monday night I forwent swing dancing and went out to dinner with John instead. This was mostly in the interest of my feet who are entirely displeased that I should suddenly

I found an internet cafe where I can get an hour of internet for the price of a half hour at the other place. Oh, ha ha ha. In other news, hotels are too damn expensive and I am way too slow in getting out today.

Y’all, this computer thing is going to die. I was happily clicking away with amusing (or at least not-depressing) little tales of my days and I had all this time in which to write, and then TA DA! The computer gave me not the blue screen of death, but rather the login screen. And the

6 minutes. Damn! Right. Up at 11, breakfast, then off to V&A museum. I wasn’t all that impressed with what we saw. Lots of plaster casts of artwork. It’s like seeing a poster of the Mona Lisa. Even though I know I’ve remarked on a number of occasions that most art looks just like every

6 minutes. Damn! Right. Up at 11, breakfast, then off to V&A museum. I wasn’t all that impressed with what we saw. Lots of plaster casts of artwork. It’s like seeing a poster of the Mona Lisa. Even though I know I’ve remarked on a number of occasions that most art looks just like every