Friday 29th October 1999

I awoke relatively early - 8.30'ish, finished my packing and trotted off to the train station. I booked my ticket and asked for an itinerary which was duly given to me. According to this timetable I wouldn't arrive in Stuttgart until 11.45am, which was 20mins before my flight. Ooooops.

I looked at the itinerary and the departure board and discovered that a faster train was heading to Stuttgart leaving before mine. It was an ICE and my ticket wasn't valid for it, but I was more concerned about making the flight than getting fined so I got on anyway. The usual routine of "hiding in the bar and reading a book when the ticket inspector comes around" trick worked a treat. I hopped off the train and made the airport 35mins before my flight departure and they let me on due to me only having hand luggage.

The flight was crap, delayed in Stuttgart for 45 mins before circling Heathrow for another 30mins. Anyway, escaped Heathrow by tube and went to Hounslow to meet up with Colm and Toby for a couple of beers and a quiet chat. After that it was back on the tube to Hammersmith where I met up with Mark Takla for early beers in "Bar 38" [ I think that's what it was called anyway ]. We just had a chat about this and that, nothing too fascinating [ sorry Mark ] before Charlotte, Adam, Vicki, Dom, Splagboy and others arrived.

Bar 38 is a pretty cool bar, and if you're passing through H'smith you should check it out. I was pretty impressed with all the light projectors and fancy stuff that they had flying around in there. Then again I was always easily pleased.

By the time the last of them had arrived I was leathered since we'd been drinking pretty solidly all afternoon. Personally I don't remember Splagboy, but I've been assured he was there. The gang shot off to "The Hammersmith Palais" and Vicki and I left for her house. I think we watched a movie when we got in..."The Fugitive" I think.

We discovered on the train that the organiser that Vicki had left in Germany the week before, and that I had graciously brought back for her was a little broken. It had somehow lost all her agenda. I still maintain that it wasn't me mucking with it that had bust it, absolutely not, but Vicki is convinced it was.

Saturday 30th October 1999

I awoke on Saturday morning at about 7.30am and pottered around Vicki's house watching kids T.V. and just sort of pottering really. I got bored of this after twenty minutes and decided to wake up Vicki.

"Vicki darling, wake up" mumbled I. "Mwwwmmwahhhhht tiiimmmmee is itttttt?" was the unintelligible response. "It's half past eleven" I lied. "Make shum coffee" was mumbled.

So I hopped off the bed and made coffee whilst Vicki stumbled into the living room. She wasn't a happy bunny when she found out it was 8.00am.

Eventually I popped up to the Parcel Office to collect a couple of jumpers my Dad sent down, before going to Sainsburys to get the stuff required for ye Olde classic English breakfast.

Vicki whipped up a spot of brekkie whilst I watched the gods Ant and Dec give us their rendition of that good ol' Geordie bas*ard humour. With lots of "why-aye mans", the occasional "ya divvn't" and a smattering of "oh no Ant"'s.

Anyway, after brekkie it was off to Clapham since Vick wanted to upgrade her phone, which she couldn't cos it was in her brothers name, and I picked up a few bits and bobs from Boots so that I could stay looking young and beautiful. 'ahem'

Editors note: It certainly makes me look young - young like a teenager! The moisturiser stuff has given me zits!

After this a quick beer on Northcote Rd, then we wandered up to "Bar Coast". From "Bar Coast" we were going to go to Putney but Aggy called in the nick of time and said a load of people were going to "The Polish Bar" in Holborn due to the fact that Hugh was about to move out of the house. We were both a bit pissed by this point so perhaps in retrospect going drink lots of extremely strong vodka wasn't a wise idea. Still we got to Holborn before the vodka place opened so we all went to "The Shakespeares Head" where we sat in the no-smoking section and three of us smoked cigarettes until the manager came and told us we were very naughty. Vicki had a row with the man which I utterly disagreed with since it was a no-smoking section but there you go, women!

So we eventually made it to "The Polish Bar" and started to do severe bodily damage to ourselves. The rounds were about twenty quid a throw and we went through a few. The photo's will be here somewhere when I get the film developed and get the pics scanned. After a while we got sick of drinking vodka and decided it was much more fun to snort it off the tray. Painful on the sinuses but it certainly clears them out, makes your eyes water, makes your lungs burn and makes your girlfriend storm off. The reason she stormed off is because she was pissed and thought we were all snorting cocaine.....in the middle of a pub..... with lots of strangers nearby......right in front of the pub window ......with policemen walking past, chicks!

Vicki and I eventually staggered out together and decided to get a taxi. A black cab kindly pulled up

"Do you know Streatham Common mate" I said. "Yep, it's miles away and I'm not going" the fat lardy arsehead replied.

Then he drove off again.

So we took a series of tubes and trains home on each of which Vicki fell asleep. Then every time I woke her up to get off the train she insisted this wasn't our stop. In the end I was physically dragging her off the flippin things. When we got back I was famished so I got a chinky-boo. Vicki, as usual fell asleep in the take away and when my food arrived refused to wake up. I asked the woman behind the counter if she could stay there for the night. "Nope". I asked another customer if he wanted her for a tenner. "Nope". So once again I man-handled her out of the door and down the street.

Sunday 31st October 1999 < Halloween >