My journey back to the UK was totally and absolutely unremarkable, aside from the second leg (13h Kuala Lumpor to LDN) where the plane was much newer therefore the seats were larger, there were better tv screens and I GOT A WHOLE ROW OF 3 SEATS TO MYSELF!! BEST.FLIGHT.EVER.
I was greeted at arrivals by one of my bestest friends ever and then immediately rammed in the leg by some cow with like 4 suitcases on a trolley, the bitch. Anyway we essentially just went to the nearest pub with food and I had my first (of many to come in the next two weeks) pint of Aspalls Suffolk Cyder.
It is a very weird feeling to be back in your home town after being away on the other side of the planet for 15 months. Especially if you are staying by yourself in house that you have never lived in and is essentially empty of all but the basic furniture. (hello, back pain from sleeping on the floor, how are you?)
I basically spent the next two weeks doing a drinking tour of Ipswich and the surrounding areas, guest starring some of my best friends, and making some new ones. No need to stop travelling habits even after going home, right? I also spent a fair amount of time taking advantage of the free limitless internet at the empty house (? I don't know why either) and my brothers Netflix subscription. Boo yah, thats my ideal holiday right there.
I also had a rad day trip to Thorpe Park with two of my favorite people, before going to a Nicole Atkins gig in LANDAN.
It was a nice two weeks. I think?
I dunno I was verrverr drunk for a lot of it.
Going back home after being away for so long has EXACTLY THE SAME feeling of finding your old favorite clothes that have been stored in the garage, but they smell weird, don't fit properly, and you're pretty sure there's some mold there. Also they don't look as good on you as you used to think.
I'm not sure if this says more about my attitude or my taste in clothes. You be the judge.
Friday, 14 November 2014
I am the god of HELLFIRE
I was going to my next post about moving to Belgium and all the fun that has been (in a nutshell; there's lots of paperwork I don't understand, different version of the NHS depending on what political party you support, lots of visits to different offices, and a joyful amount of beer), but instead I wanted to talk about the most amazing thing I have seen this week.
So... being away from the UK for a while means I've missed a lot of quirky British things that you forget no-one else cares about; for example,, our whimsical celebration of historical attempted domestic terrorism... Guy Fawkes Night. This takes place on the 5th of November every year, where we burn bonfires to celebrate the fact that the plot was foiled and the houses of parliament didn't go boom. Obviously this is only really a thing in the UK.
But fear not! My strange yearning to stand near a bonfire on an autumn night was satisfied right here in Belgium, where a nearby village had their annual "Lets set fire to all of the green waste we have been putting on this one huge pile all year! And lets get the kids involved!" Festival. I don't know if that is what it was called, that was an educated guess, based on my current understanding of Flemish*.
Basically, that is what happened. The pile was honestly the size of two houses, and not only was it lit by some serious looking dads with a flame thrower, but also a WHOLE PARADE of children aged 5 to 15 who walked from the middle of the village (one street away) all holding FLAMING TORCHES. ON FIRE. Like a young, well behaved, middle ages mob. There were no ambulances nearby, or fire engines, or any kind of safety system in place. There was however a bar and a bbq... This is where all the adults were hanging out while the kids all went to the other side of the bonfire, out of sight, so they could all literally play with fire unsupervised.
A lovely evening indeed. We didn't stick around long enough to see any kids set each other on fire unfortunately, but it was only a matter of time.
I wish wish wish I had some pictures to show y'all but I was too busy being politely horrified and trying not to get set alight
*Almost zero understanding, unless someone is swearing at me or ordering beer.
So... being away from the UK for a while means I've missed a lot of quirky British things that you forget no-one else cares about; for example,, our whimsical celebration of historical attempted domestic terrorism... Guy Fawkes Night. This takes place on the 5th of November every year, where we burn bonfires to celebrate the fact that the plot was foiled and the houses of parliament didn't go boom. Obviously this is only really a thing in the UK.
But fear not! My strange yearning to stand near a bonfire on an autumn night was satisfied right here in Belgium, where a nearby village had their annual "Lets set fire to all of the green waste we have been putting on this one huge pile all year! And lets get the kids involved!" Festival. I don't know if that is what it was called, that was an educated guess, based on my current understanding of Flemish*.
Basically, that is what happened. The pile was honestly the size of two houses, and not only was it lit by some serious looking dads with a flame thrower, but also a WHOLE PARADE of children aged 5 to 15 who walked from the middle of the village (one street away) all holding FLAMING TORCHES. ON FIRE. Like a young, well behaved, middle ages mob. There were no ambulances nearby, or fire engines, or any kind of safety system in place. There was however a bar and a bbq... This is where all the adults were hanging out while the kids all went to the other side of the bonfire, out of sight, so they could all literally play with fire unsupervised.
A lovely evening indeed. We didn't stick around long enough to see any kids set each other on fire unfortunately, but it was only a matter of time.
I wish wish wish I had some pictures to show y'all but I was too busy being politely horrified and trying not to get set alight
*Almost zero understanding, unless someone is swearing at me or ordering beer.
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