Another long-distance one
My housemate went out and got ratted for Santacon last yeat. Deciding he'd had enough quite early, he left his mates and jumped on a train at Charing Cross, intending to head back to Crouch Hill. Once the alcoholic haze had faded, he found himself in Penge, twice as far away from where he wanted to be as when he started, dressed like Father Christmas and being badly mocked by the locals hanging around at the train station. It took him another three and a half hours to get back, by which time we were starting to get quite worried aboutabsolutely laughing our arses off at him.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Fri 25 Mar 2011, 16:07, Reply)