Six weeks and back to square one.
Righto then, the overseas bit. I went with a couple of good mates, Tom and Asad from Reverberations to Krakow in Poland for a four vodka packed days. And packed full of vodka they were.
We arrived and were greeted by Oscar the promoter guy. He was well cool, and took us back, through the soviet style streets back to his gaff. Of course the first thing after the introductions to the housemates, dog and cat was the first of many vodkas. In Poland vodka is drunk neat with usually a little chaser. The chaser usually is apple juice, but this time it was apple with cinnamon, which quickly became known as "Strudel Juice". Boy o boy does that make vodka really easy to drink! We (polish)ed, (sorry couldn't help myself there) off what was in the house and and went to into the main square to check out the gig where the boys were playing.
It turned out to be a place called Prozac. It was kitted out really well and it looked like the gig the next night was going to be fun.
Highlights from Friday include; having a drunken laugh, possibly eating the most well made, tasty kebab ever and not breaking my cheek bone from been tripped up by a new Polish friend while giving Tom a piggy back in the main square, and subsequently falling face first on some ancient cobblestones.
Saturday morning was not so bad considering that our hangovers were not as monstorous as I was expecting. We went out to lunch, ate far too much mexican and moved our base towards a rather nice little apartment (thanks Oscar) that was directly above the club. After so much tucker at lunch, we all had snoozy afternoon kips and went out for a light dinner before the onslaught that lay ahead.
To be honest the night went rather quickly and I have quite a lot of photos, which most of are no way fit for public viewing. In general I thought we all acted rather responsibly and had a good time. Only when I woke the next day was I informed that we had well err... acted rather like a bunch of twats on a stag do. Here's what was relayed to me. Obviously I can't remember this I was passed out. After leaving the club, where Tom and I were supposedly extremely drunk I dropped a full drink on the stairs and had to be helped out of the club. I passed out on a bed, and then the fun began. Tom got into a drunken caveman style fight and started lunging at one of our new friends, Gregor. Asad was offering some groupie that came back to the apartment a line, and then started racking up some hefty chunks of leftover paella. Didn't think she got the rather quirky English humour.
Tom passed out, half on a bed, and Asad decided to exact some revenge. First was 2 full pints of water over him, a towel soaked in stale beer, placed near his face, an ashtray also placed near his face and a now well minging paella also right near his face. Well, what are friends for eh?
Sunday was a slow start as to be expected and it's a bit of a blur, nursing beers in beautiful surroundings. We were taken to a traditional Polish restaurant for dinner. What a experience that was. Some breads and dips came out. Sweet, until I spied what looked like a mug of soft lard with chunks. It was called smalec. It turned out to be double fried pork fat with bits of pork rinds through it. You spread this on your bread and douse it with salt, and tuck in. Well when in Rome they say. I didn't manage to rid my palate of that taste for well over 5 hours. The next course was a selection of soups, which all of them turned out to be very, very, tasty, my favourite being Barszcz czerwony. Which is a hot beetroot soup. The last course was a big wooden plate full of dumplings called pierogi. And to be quite frank, they tasted delicious. I was well chuffed, and to end the meal it was decided to go back to the club for a couple of quiet drinks. To cleanse the mouth of pork fat... of course. (By the way my veggie lifestyle seems to be on hold whenever i leave the country.)
The first shot of vodka nearly killed me. It was a layered concoction of vodka, cherry syrup and tabasco. My palate was well and truely cleansed, if not stripped. The second shot was a small shot of what looked like vodka. I thought I was going to be sick. It was like someone had slipped me a shot of aftershave. Turned out to be 80% proof vodka. The rest of the night was again a blur, but from what I can remember we invited half the bar back to the apartment, started wearing boxer shorts on our heads and started acting like general fools. I think I had a broom out at one stage and was trying to find 101 use for it. None of which was sweeping of course. By this time, I vaguely recall it was round about 4am and we had managed to dial-a-bottle-of-vodka. (Don't you just love Poland!)
Tom had to fly out at 7am that morning and was trying to figure out how to get a cab for 4.30am to get to the airport for his check in at 5am. I was trying to convince him to try and get a later flight. I was determind for him to stay. I got hold of his ticket and held it, looking for some number on the ticket I couls maybe ring and try and change the flight. Suddenly in a stroke of genius/insanity I whipped out a lighter and burned his ticket. Problem solved.
He now had to get a later flight. Everyone was in stiches, including myself, and the party got back into full swing, until everyone passed out. We eventually went back to Oscars place, spent a hour trying to book a flight for Tom and eventually had to go to the airport. Turns out Asad and myself were on the same flight. I managed to get Tom on an Easyjet flight, an hour after ours, all for a price of £200. It's probably one of the most stupid things I've ever done, basically burning 200 quid, which kind of partly explains why I'm chained to a keyboard now, instead of still living the Life of Reilly.
Next episode includes: Glasgow, and Secret Garden frolics, and a mind bending going away bash for ol' Smacked Face (sniff).