Getting there is half the fun?

The last few days have been quite hard. Started off with a few quiet drinks at Spacific Xmas Party, which of course got totally out of hand. You guys and girls know who you are! Fast forward to Kilburn at eight in the morning, well fucked. Stumbled back east London to the evil scottish doppleganers place, found out my HSBC card card had been wiped somehow. Xmas eve too. Great. All I fucking need. Mission to Whitechapel, looking very deranged. Left eye in the right socket, right eye in the left socket. Managed to get a dribble of cash. Spent the cash on vital "pressies" straight away and went home to North London. Mad rush around trying to get a bag packed, clothes not totally dry, a total nightmare. Lugged all my shit to Finsbury Park, dashed to Euston, made it just in time to get on a train, which was heaving! What the hell are British Rail doing, cant they work out there are only so many seats on a train. What complete fuckwits. Anyway spent the next three hours trying to focus and not sweat like a rapist, due to all the previous night catching up with me. Hungry, thirsty, and still three more hours to Glasgow.

Oh and Merry Xmas.