First Post
Not really 'it was a great holiday, but . . . ', more 'it was a crap holiday, because . . . ':

It was some school outdoorsy nonsense in the rainy wasteland of Scotland. We were climbing Scottish mountains, which was crap in itself. It rained the entire time and my boots fell apart, leaving me stranded behind everyone else, an unwelcome reminder of school sports which I had by this time escaped.

However, the main problem of the trip was our shit accomodation. It was total crap in every possible way. Reconverted from an old barn, it featured a bizarre sleeping structure on one wall - a sort of 3x3 wooden grid thing with mattresses in it. There were too few mattresses for it to be 1 person per mattress, and the few pillows were damp and infested with mould. Each day began with a bowl of porridge so salty and horrible I almost vomited right there. I had to PAY to take a shower, which was cold and taken behind a falling-off door in a draughty cold outbuilding, necessitating an arctic near-naked run through wet grass and pointy gravel. Worst of all, though, it was powered by a generator that was turned off at 10 each night.

This meant that when I woke up at 4am one night to take a dump, I had to climp down a splintery ladder from the wooden grid thingy, walk into the bog corridor, and have a crap using only the light on my watch (urban light pollution is clearly not without its advantages). I can't remember the name of the hostel/hovel in question, and so am unable to expose it here, but you know who you are. The bacon was nice though.

Only here can I apologise for length.
(Radio Free iPods "Fickt nicht mit dem Raketenmensch!", Thu 21 Apr 2005, 21:52, Reply)

Hmmm... not vacation so much as hell with educational experiences.
1. At a long- LOOOOOOONG 3 week camp (Twas 12) my roommate wouldn't shut up about the whole concept of relatively co-ed dorms. Aka- 'Do you think we'll get to make out?'
2. My friend decided to drop me from her 'group.' By mail. It's worse than being dumped, seriously.
3. An angry, pissed, Texan bitch was the counselor down the hall. (She got booted for giving beer to teenagers... ah, karma.)
(ZooLurker is an angry chick with a mullet!, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 21:39, Reply)

France / Nameless Central European Country / Hitch-hiking
Eh-up.

1] Car broke down in the middle of rural France. I was eight. Eventually walked to a supermarket depot. Got a mechanic. Eventually found out it was a fault in the oil pressure switch. All that was needed was to cut the signal cable to the on-board computer. This took three days to work out. I was not happy.

2] Tyre almost fell off on a French motorway. Almost died. Turned out that (almost certainly) some bastard had taken some nuts off the wheel. Cranberry.

3] Went to a museum in central Europe which I had wanted to go to for a long time. I got there fifteen minutes after it had shut. I then went to the neighbouring castle. It was shutting too. Not happy. Still, good beer.

4] Went on a charity hitch-hike. Gf & I were picked up by two scallies, in a car they said was bought for a quid. Had a [minuture] handgun and a rifle rather than furry dice hanging from the rear-view mirror. Said that they were "self employed". Hmmmm.

I love holidays, me.
( Parmesan Quality b4 Quantity, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 21:34, Reply)

We were in a tent with a flat roof
and it was raining like fuck all week, our tent gathered so much water the roof collapsed in so the bar in the roof trapped our only exit and hit my friend on the head and then a river ran through out tent, cos the river at the top of the hill burst its banks. This all happened at 5am - not good. We had no clue what was going on.
(Intt, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 21:24, Reply)

Location -Majorca 2000 Me=16 Just Finsihed GCSE's
Went with my parents, met a few lads there and went and got very very drunk, every night.
Most nights ended up a little irish bar with some great live music. Got in with a random women but no sex.
On my last night i got lucky with an irish bird you was 19 and i blaged i was 18 (yay me coz am kinda tall) went back to her hotel coz i had very bad sunburn and she wanted to rub aloe vera on me...
Fair enough says me and gets me cherry popped to an older woman.

All good and well

IT WAS A GREAT HOLIDAY
BUT...
She was a fat moose!
And in my drunken state gave her my mobile number and then got stalked by her for a long while saying she loves me and etc
She came to liverpool once coz i said i'd go meet her...
Never did met her.
I wonder where she is now

Woo 1st post at long last!
(King Of Wood Street, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 21:20, Reply)

Granted that I've never been on hoilday...
... I'll recount a pseudo-holiday experince. Aged 16, my mates and I decide to go on a beach trip and sleep on the sand.

There's many things you don't know when you're young, such as leaning over a neon-light with your long fringe distended over it for a good 20 minutes causes an unbelievable stench (my friend).

We also got to act as paramedics when a 30-something -year-old guy drank so much that he turned blue and stopped breathing. In our drunken stupor (think home made wine - without glasses) one of the lesser bright lads and my self tried to recussitate him. For some reason the dead (???) guys mates turned up and had a go at us before finally deciding to call anambulance. Then they bummed my only blanket to wrap it around him. I didn't really oppose until I realised that temperature near 'mare aperto' dropped by a few 15 degrees at 2am.

Slept in my then-boyfriends one-person sleeping bag. He snored like walrus with TB. So did 3/4 of the other people there. At 5:30am I finally manage to fall into blissful sleep. Birds proceed to shrill at the top of their lungs at the sight of sunrise.

Caught bus home at 9:00am and slept from 11:00am 'til 1:00pm before heading to work still hungover as fark.

Nice times.

Actually it was all pretty much fun besides those episodes.

I wonder what happened to the 30-something-year-old who turned blue...
It's funny how lightly everybody (including myself quite shamefully) took it.
(s_nails, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 21:18, Reply)

i went to the beach on my holiday...
to italy where made a sand castle and it got trodden on :0( Whilst walking along the top of the sand dunes i spotted a topless woman sunbathing in a secluded part of the beach, my girlfriend at the time (neurotic bitch) slapped me for staring. when i explained that you can't help it and it's no big deal she cried.

I was more upset about the sand castle.
( You drive like a mong in a dodgem today is, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 20:56, Reply)

Ah.. memories of Texas
It was a great holiday in Texas except for:

1) Being threatened by a bunch of NRA fucks for my liberal views.

2) Getting sent to Coventry for a bit for saying quite loudly that I thought George Bush Senior was a "Nazi wealth stealing cunt" while passing his G.I Joe-esque command complex of a home.

3) Multiple unreciprocated come ons by girls, which might not seem so bad but had I done anything I would have probably been converted to a Baptist and forced into a shotgun wedding. "Touch mah daughter's hand will ya!"

4) Getting my fingerprints on more guns owned by a single family than I could ever imagine.
(the_fracturedpope, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 20:42, Reply)

It was in France in 2001
We went to France with the school and it wasn't the best trip ever. We managed to break lots of things in the apartment, we didn't mean to but we did. We broke, the lamp, blinds, toilet seat (we had to go out and buy one!)and the fridge. There were many other things but I can't remember them. To make things worse we got grounded (by the teacher!) on my birthday!!! When we got back to school we all got awards with the title 'Demolition Man'. It was one crazy holiday.
(Hartlepool15 aka []Chips[] So you don't have to, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 20:28, Reply)

it was a great holiday
the other week i was in france i came from the airport by train and in gare du nord i slipped on a banana peel (for real) and fell spectacularly(spelling?) dropping bags etc i just sat there laughing like a monger for about 5 minutes after seeing the banana peel. but...the castle at eurodisney is really small, what a rip.


fucking tourists
(woo who?, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 20:23, Reply)

The Barmen didn't enjoy it so much....
When in Greece with my friend and his parents, there was a bar on the way into the main pub bit called the 'sunshine cocktail bar' My friends father managed to collapse in there on our 2nd night after drinking far too much, however being in (or around) the lavatory for an hour i missed it. The barmen got an ambulance and weren't too bad. Day or two later we went back in a bit pissed up taking all the post it notes from the bar for orders, writing things on them and sticking them to ourselves. We also smashed a couple of glasses. They really didn't like us...but damn they put a lot of vodka in those cocktails for an extra fiver!

*first lengthy post so no apology 4 u I'm afraid*
(paintboy, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 20:21, Reply)

I shot my Mum
in the face with a cork gun. She took it back to the shop, they wouldn't give us a refund so she twatted him one. Go Mum!
( Laughing Boy, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 20:09, Reply)

Being Deaf, I
should by all rights be in a big huffy-ass American snit at Gaz' story. However, I can picture it perfectly and am pissing myself with laughter. I have that weird deaf voice sometimes and flap quite a bit myself.

I bow to Gaz' awesome power of storytelling.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 20:08, Reply)

Cyprus last year
Me and my dad decided to go parasailing as neither of us had done it before.

After paying the guy to do it we get on board the ship with 4 other people up for it. Turns out one of them was deaf and a bit slow which isent that funny but the fact she is speaking that way only deaf people can and in german it sounded hilarious.

To make matters even funnier (for us) after she was strapped in to go she started flapping a bit to her mates in her native deaf tongue. The guy running the trip dident care and pressed the button to send her up and out, we could hear her mongy cries getting quieter and quierter as she gets further away. 5 minutes later and they get louder again as she is being wenched back in. Guess you had to be there.

Size? you love it?
Hell? Bring it on
( Gaz, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 19:49, Reply)

Why you shouldn't go on holiday to Wales.
When I was eleven I went with my Dad, my sister and another family to have a spring camping trip on the Pembrokeshire coast. The village we were staying in was called 'New Gale', which turned out to be apt as the first two nights were spent trying to pin down the tents which we'd pitched right on the edge of a cliff whilst severe coastal storms threatened to blow us into the brine below.
It was at the start of the third day, waking up inside a rainwater-filled polythene sack to find our supplies tent AWOL somewhere in the Irish Sea that we decided to pack up and go home. My Dad said we could go to Drayton Manor instead, but we never did.
Still, we got to go to St David's, the smallest city in Britain. And I got some top trumps in the village shop.
( Zuowan, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 19:43, Reply)

France, aged 12
School trip to Normandy. 3 days of squealing little kids and drunk teachers, with an unusual twist.

On the first day I got on swimmingly with a girl on the coach. We spent most of 6 hours talking and flirting like buggery. I go to bed thinking about her. The rest of the boys in my room are still in the "girls are icky" phase, and so aren't interested in anything I have to say about her or any other girls present. Anything I do say is passed on. Being an overly sexual 12 year old with a trio of gossipy eunechs, my every explicit word is passed on, and as a result I get dumped the next day. Also, everyone thinks I'm a pervert because I'm mature enough to like girls. Nobody except the socially retarded talks to me from then on.

Second day, we go to Bayeux. While visiting a castle, I somehow become seperated, along with my socially retarded friends, and we spend an enjoyable afternoon lying on a sloped concrete embankment, eating crepes. Very nice.

However, the second night sucked big fat donkey cocks. Someone broke into a girls room, messed things up, and took a giant, unflushable shit. The bitchy popular girls immediately start the theory that it was my socially retarded friend (who was sharing their room) that did it, and messed up the room to cover her tracks. The evening is spent with one roommate wrapping a chain round his knuckles in case "they" come back, and another sitting on his bed reading and being smuggly calm. Manic friend pins him against a wall by the throat to much cheering. I end up snogging said female friend out of pity and teenage horniness. Realise she mings at a later date.

Third day spent mostly on the beach 100 metres away. Brilliant until I fall down a big load of rocks and get sand thrown in my eye. I proceed to chase the guy who blinded me around the beach, and kick him a few times before his mates turn up and chase me off. Later that day, they throw rocks at my bobbing head as I wade around up to my neck in the filthy French sea. I cry lots. Teacher "on guard" too pissed to notice me crying and bleeding slightly as I walk past him en route to the hotel. Cunt. Turns out he was an alcoholic though.

On top of all that, I get totally bollocked when I get home for spending my souvenir money on a Time Crisis style game on the ferry. Through karmic retribution though, I feel sick from squinting down a sight too long, and making the most of other people's free refills of Pepsi during said journey.

Length r teh w00t!
(youthink, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 19:27, Reply)

Disney fucking land
Folks took me an my bro to Disneyland from the Santa Monica hotel that we were staying in, via a coach excursion arranged from the hotel lobby. There were several time slots to get coaches there, and several to get back. Mum and Dad got a bit tired at 9:30 and generously trusted me (14) and my brother (18) to catch the next or last coach back from the 'land in Orange County to Santa.

I go in to see a 3-d cinema show starring michael jackson (ewww...poor taste) while he went on Space Mountain and we agreed to meet up by the exit.

I can't find him. He can't find me. He asks security what happens when a kid brother says 'I've lost my older brother' so they take him to the "Town Hall" to wait for me to hand myself into park staff. But hello, what's this? I went back to the coach park, expecting him to be there...scared, I supposed he must already be on the coach, but the second I get on the doors close, and off we go back to S-Monica...shit... this is the last coach. I reason that he will get a free llift back with the cops or something (English teen all alone at closing time at Disneyland, surely someone would sort him out). I get back to the hotel room next to the one in which my parents are snoozing peacefully... very upset, waiting and praying that he will come back in any second. I drop off to sleep to be woken at 7AM by my Brother....walked back from Orange county overnight in LA with no money, no street map, no local knowledge, at one point stays in a diner with free coffee top-ups for 3 hours, didn't realise top-ups were free so panicked when the waitress filled him up as he had spent his last 50cents on the first one...was befriended by a local scally that says he will show him the way back to the hotel then tries to convince him to climb over the security fence of a posh hotel, when security come haring out with a slavering wolfhound, shouting "We know who he is, do not approach him at all costs". So he works out the way back to Santa Monica where, outside our hotel the previous night gang members were shooting warning shots towards each other , threatening a turf war. After musing at some interesting bass guitars in a shop window on the way back, Bro finally makes it back and wakes me up by coming in. Folks wake up and are struck dumb by his luck not to be mugged, raped and killed, and astonished at my dumb stupidity not to wake them up and tell them.

Mickey Mouse is a cunt, and so are all of his happy little theme park workers.

A couple of days later we went to 6 flags magic mountain and none of this shit happenes. QED.
( Rotating Wobbly Hat That's not a banana. THIS is a banana., Thu 21 Apr 2005, 19:16, Reply)

Holiday...celebrate...
Picture it , young myself, my three sisters and my mum on holiday in a frankly too small caravan all with gastro. With small caravan comes chemical toilet/bucket....
Lucky him, my dad was the only one who didn't get ill...so he got to empty the vom and shit of 5 other peole for three days! Nice job dad!
( I could eat the scabs off a dead dog That was a brand new hat, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 19:08, Reply)

When I Was A Kid...
In Norfolk I went down to a small beach by the caravan park we were staying at. I had taken off my shoes, and ten minutes later I saw the tide slowly taking them to Norway. I spent the best of two days shoeless.

Around the same time we stayed at a hotel where there was a wild boar in the grounds.
(Burb Lulls, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 18:53, Reply)

Adventure Holiday in Wales...
...aged 8. First holiday away from Mum and Dad.

You know how, whenever you're in a school party or whatever, there's always one kid who is late, on the wrong bus, gone to the wrong entrance at the zoo, etc.

Well, that was me.

The whole week.

My Dad still apologises for sending me on this holiday disaster, even to this day. I actually quite enjoyed it, otherwise.

Oh, and I got chickenpox.
( Amish Information Systems hates misplaced, commas, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 18:36, Reply)

Whilst sledging over christmas I managed to break my leg in two and have the upper part poking out.
I was informed by the doctor that I would be out of cast for a skiing holiday I had been ecstatic about...

I wasn't, Cue me sat alone in bars all day, I'm not a keen drinker so I basically just sat in a bar for a week.

My parents gave me as much support as they could but I was so depressed about the whole incident, that they took me on holiday a year later by surprise to go skiing, I was very very very happy about that.

oh and my leg was in cast for about ten months.
( GrandmaOfShoes, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 18:04, Reply)

Bumbershoot 1992
Went to Seattle in 1992. Bumbershoot being a music festival. Imagine my shock at the height of the grunge thing, when I entered the arena and over zealous grunge fans were moshing to...wait for it.....Bleedin' UB40.
(TwoLeftFlipFlops, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 17:57, Reply)

traumatized.
It was my first camping trip, I was maybe 7 years old. It was really fecking cold and I wasn't adjusting well to having to poo in a hole. Anyway, it was the middle of the night and I couldn't sleep because the wind was blowing pots around. Soon I decided to go secure the pots or something, only to find that the "wind" was actually a deer with its head in a bucket. It heard me and started darting around with the bucket on its head, nearly running me over, tripping over everything. Then it finally got the bucket off its head and ran off into the dark. Damnit I was scared D:
In spite of that I now love camping and am perfectly fine with pooing in a hole.
( trintrin has jam for blood, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 17:46, Reply)

It was a great holiday, but
mother came down with some severe food poisoning in the middle of the night, in the B&B they were staying at. Father (of the blocked sewage system story posted earlier) is panic stricken and runs down to reception. Only being 2 in the morning there's no one there.

There is, however, a helpful little note propped up saying 'Please ring bell on first floor for attention'. Going out of his mind with panic at this stage, father notices a rather large hand bell sitting on the reception desk - the type people give a little jangle to when they arrive and need to check in.

Proud of his deduction, father takes said bell up to the first floor and proceeds to run back and forth in his pyjamas ringing it at full blast shouting 'Help!' at the top of his voice. It was only when he came to the end of the corridor to find a small doorbell by an unmarked door that read 'Please press for out of hours attention' that he realised his mistake. That, and all the confused guests by now leaning cautiously out of their doors to find out what this mad man was doing.

Mother was so ill we did indeed depart the next day, but the gravity of the situation is lost every time we think of the bell.
(tell me about the rabbits, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 17:44, Reply)

Many many many
Ski trip with school:
- Spent a whole day skiing wearing a bright pink afro wig.
- On the long drive across Austria, Germany and France to the ferry, our coach crashed. One moment, fine, next: coach at 45-degree angle. At least, that was my point of view. Most other people had noticed that something was awry and that the coach was no longer parallel to the road's white lines, and had terrifiedly realised what was going to happen. The front of the coach was totally smashed (drivers were alright, though), and I was completely unaware of this also. So, I thought it was all a ripping lark, and I started an impromptu B-movie narration of it ("O calamity! How will our intrepid explorers extricate themselves from this predicament?" or something like that). As one, everyone around me said, "shut up, Anna!" in between panicked sobs.

I was one of few people who had no injuries whatsoever. This I attribute to the fact that I was also one of the few people who'd bothered to wear the seatbelts. Buckle up, kids.
The girl next to me hadn't been wearing her seatbelt, and was only saved from head injury by the fact that she collided with anchored me instead of falling into the aisle.

Huddled together in the cold dawn hours in a German service station, while our teachers argued in German with the angry staff (the station was technically still closed), we were nevertheless very excited to see our mangled coach on the German news.

Family holiday in Wales:
Utter fucking disaster. I thought it would be a nice change to have a British holiday, as we normally go to France. Plus, I quite fancied discovering the land of my ancestors (my dad's family is Welsh).
- Trod in a huge cow shit thinking it was a stone.
- We took the train up Snowdon, hoping to see the lully view. It was pissing down with rain and all foggy, but we reckoned that it would be clearer at the top. From the top we could see absolutely shit all. Everything further away than a few metres was white. They probably didn't even take us to the top - just round in a circle. Awful coffee in the cafe at the top too.
- Learned that in Wales 'interactive exhibits' means 'a few lift-up panels' and 'wide range of souvenirs' means 'wide range of crap with dragons on it'.
- Our hostess from whom we were renting our draughty 17th-century gatehouse caught me wearing my tiger costume (my mum made it for my brother with Down's Syndrome, but he hardly ever plays with it, so my other bro and I have taken to wearing it round the house as it's all cosy and fuzzy). I do wonder if I started a rumour.
- We had bacon on our first night there (this was my pre-vegan days), and my mum left the bacon fat in a coffee mug and forgot to later dispose of it. Next morning, my dad made himself some coffee. You can work out the rest. "Fucking hell!" followed by 'bleagh! bleagh! bleagh!' noises like a cat with a hairball.

Family holiday in France:
This was that year it was so damn hot lots of chickens and a few humans died because of the heat.
- We saw a preying mantis. That was cool.
- My dad got drunk and pretended to be a gay penguin. Then he threw radishes at me.
- Whenever I went to the supermarket French blokes approaching me from behind always said 'excuse me' and not 'excusez-moi'. I must look English even from behind.

Field trip for AS Biology:
Lots of pottering about on Exmoor, in the freezing cold, looking for cunting caddisfly larvae. I needed a wee and we were only halfway back to the coach, so I nipped into some tall vegetation. I can pee standing up, but the vegetation wasn't tall enough for that, and without a nice big porcelain bowl to catch it in, I didn't want to risk pissing all over my shoes, so I squatted. Thought I'd manoeuvred very cunningly, but nevertheless everyone saw my huge pink flowery granny-esque knickers.

EDIT: I can't believe I took the tiger suit to Wales with me.
( Bob Todd whee, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 17:43, Reply)

Faliraki, 2003
Was permanently drunk. Pulled some Welsh bint with a tendency to get my name wrong at inopportune moments. Fell out with all my mates on the trip. Never spoken to them since.

Eventful.
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 17:38, Reply)

Paedophilia and chocolate
Went to Belgium for a school trip when I was about 10. It wasn't manditory so there was only about 30 of us while the rich kids went skiing/sailing/inbreeding. Ferry over was spent with a couple of friends terrorising some poor bastard who's job it was to dress up as a huge foam seagull and give out sweets. The costume was so big and the ferry's corridors so narrow and long that with a little timing, we had a good 60m to kick him up the arse as many times as we could without him being able to turn around. We even got to pick up the trail of sweets he scattered as a result.

Anyway, we get to Belgium. We were split up into the usual 'naughty but popular' kids and 'non-ADD' kids. As a member of the latter, I thought it wierd that I got stuck sharing a room with a ginger lad who I knew was one of the popular ones in school. This new found 'friendship' meant that I hung out more with the 'popular' kids. It didn't last long, though and by the last night I shunned their offer of heavy drinking (fuck knows how 10 year olds get beer in a foreign country) in favour of going to the arcade.

Not a bad choice, in hindsight, as by the time we get back to the UK the teacher who had taken us had been fired for touching those kids up. Apparently he walked in on the drinking, blackmailed them, showed them 'how to wear a jockstrap' and let his finger do the walking.

I never believed it. The kids were trouble and, as it later turned out, I was right. They lied. But in the chaos, it came out that the teacher wasn't a paedo but was gay. These must be the same in the right-wing headmaster's mind, so the teacher got fired anyway and hushed up with severance pay.

Happy days.

I also have a nasty story about enjoying a jacuzzi in Toronto with my parents aged about 11 when all of a sudden up pops a turd. Assuming my parent don't have serious etiquette issues, the hotel must've fucked up their plumbing. That cut me deep.

Girth/length/blahblah
(thisismyclone, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 17:37, Reply)

Spanish Homestay before GCSE's
Two of my friends and I were staying with the same family, and so we would always go out in the evening to go drinking (I was only 16 at the time, but I got served everywhere). Anyway, we found a great bar near to where we were staying, and so went there almost every night. One night, one of my friends got quite drunk, and I thought it would be fun to make a fool out of him as we were walking (on concrete) back to the house...
So I said to him, "How far can you lean back into the sky without falling over?"

Obviously he fell over because he was drunk, but for some reason just before he reached the ground, he turned over so he landed on his chin. Cue blood and big fuck off scar on his chin...

I got my just desserts a couple of days later. I was playing football and somehow managed to trip over the football and skid along concrete until I got stopped by a helpful tree in the way. Cue much more blood and a HUGE scar (now faded) on my arm...

But at least my scar wasn't on my face...
(Flabbergaster laughs at danger (and breaks all the rules), Thu 21 Apr 2005, 17:30, Reply)

Moscow Underground Violence!!!
About three years ago my school organised a trip to Moscow and St Petersburg (I always thought my History teacher had dealings with the Kremlin). While out and about in Moscow I spotted this fantastic Soviet general's coat for sale, and thinking this will be the ultimate souvenir, I bought said coat and a fur hat for a pittance (about a fiver).

But how to transport my new purchases? Easy! I'll simply wear them on the trip back to the hotel, via the notoriously busy tube...hardly subtle, particularly when our tour guide advised us in strong tones not to draw attention to ourselves. Ha!

This was post-communist Moscow; admittedly one of the nicer parts of the Federation. Believe me friends, in a crowd, the gentlemen wearing a f*ck off Soviet coat and hat _always_ attracts attention. I fitted in like Boy George at a Klan rally.

Got away with just a bloody nose though. Silly bugger.

PS On the same trip, we had to take a sleeper train to St Petersburg. About 10pm, a rather burly guard opened our compartment door, and opened his bulging coat for our viewing pleasure - thinking that he was some crazy pervert, we were more surprised instead by the ten bottles of vodka lining his coat! Cue quick exchange of cash, and lashings of neat, rocket fuel spirits.

Apologies? Bah!
( alcuin, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 17:16, Reply)