Not all dervishes are whirling

Our last day in Istanbul. What we've learned so far:-
1. Forget about beach towel stereotypes, get down to breakfast early
or the Germans nab the butter.
2. Don't sleep with your windows open when you live next door to a
mosque.
3. A carpet salesman never just wants to give you apple tea - and no
that's my mother not my sister.
4. Never say to a man with a stringed instrument "Do you play"? (I
should really know this one by now).
5. Ice cream can be eaten with a knife and fork.
6. Don't follow a man with a suitcase assuming he's going to the
airport (cf: Hell's Angel and Milk Bar in Epping Forest).
7. When visiting Istanbul stay longer.

La Revedere Romania

So anyone who tells you Romania is only one hour ahead because of British summer time... Sprinted for train at Bucharesti Nord and made it without skinning any teeth (?) The Istanbul Express wasn't much bigger than the slow train to Nairn - 2 carriages. With one foot on the crumbling concrete platform and one on the trembling boards of a rickety wooden cattle wagon we quizzed the guard with our best Romanian. Sleeper hasn't arrived you say? Can only take you as far as Gorna Oryakhovtsa? Oh that Gorna Oryakhovtsa, with the Hilton, ATM s, oh and of course connecting trains... And which country did you say that was in... Dragged a reluctant AXPK90 from the moving train trying to convince her Michael Palin only got a bed for the night because (a) a production team of 20 (b) he was a Python and (c) muchos dinaros. Finally admitted defeat and headed for airport - not before AXPK had negotiated an overland cab fair of Euros 1,000 with the local gypsies.

Woken at 2 am by the border police trying to hammer the door down. AXpk90 told them to go away (thinking they were drunks she says). Came back with reinforcements and insisted on passport check - those pesky police. Arrived unfrisked at Bucharesti Nord and ran the gauntlet of dodgy cab drivers. Managed to get a bona fide one. Confused us though saying Wednesdays were always this busy. Didn't like to tell him it was Friday. The Romanian Knowledge seems to consist of stopping many people and asking directions. Finally made it to Moxa Hotel - beds in the shade of a precariously large and ostentatious chandelier, staff lovely and very accommodating - at least four came to help us work the coffee machine in our room. Dined at The Hilton and wandered round Revolution Square looking for bullet holes before nightcap in hotel bar. Catch the Istanbul Express tomorrow (though if that's express I wouldn't want the slow one) - 20 hrs! Look out for more border police action.

Gnite Vienna

Lying in my bunk Bucharest bound watching the Hungarian nightscape fly past. Squeezed in one last bratwurst before departure then dined on red wine and paprika crisps - you don'tget much for exotic than that. AXpk90's on her Nintendo and what started as a small gathering seems to have escalated to a full blown party in the corridor outside our cabin. Roll on Romania.

"Did' Vienna - well went to Opera and ate loads of lardy cakes. Tried to visit the toy museum but the owner of the clock museum told us it had been closed these last three years now. "Why?" We asked, having already stepped into the pages of Grimm. Because the private owner died... No doubt found face down in a pile of wood shavings his favourite chisel buried deep in his back and tiny tiny footprints leading away from the scene of the crime...Hehehehehe

Compulsory fries

Sitting in Bruxelles Midi waiting for the Thalys to depart for Cologne. AXpk90 is keeping me (and most of departures) entertained by playing 'chase the plum on polished floor' - AXpk90: 0 Plums: 2 Brussels charming but not enough to time to explore, or try all the beers! Conversed with Americans, Australians & English. Sandwiched between Glaswegians and Russians at breakfast - not a sniff of an Hercule Poirot! Hit list (in order of importance - or bullets left) ; The Man in Seat 61 with Michael Palin a very close second, maybe if they were standing really close...

The Countdown begins...

Well it's been a while. Bit of an understatement but life suddenly got a little hectic. Finally finished at the OU. I'm sure it's like child birth, people would never study again if the pain of each course didn't fade with time. Not this one - I'm getting a tattoo. To remind me. In balance some joyous occurrences; reforming of the Specials being one and in particular Tezza Hall at the 100 Club. The addition of Ella Bella the psychic dog meaning more lovely walks on the Heath and Daniel K at the Regents Park Open Air Theatre reminded me my stalking days aren't over. Slapper's moved to Beverley with the boys, Ms P is out n about with the Seeds again and Sary n Gam have emigrated. To Dundee. Finally quit my job and move out of the much loved flat at the weekend leaving behind Mr S - the fattest squirrel in all squirrel land, who now, thanks to a bad case of tail mange looks like the fattest rat in all rat land. The new owners are going to get a wee surprise when he comes a-tapping at the window. Come Sunday I'm officially not the littlest hobo but one all the same. Natalie Flatley's wedding tomorrow. How do you get to Bromley? And more to the point how do you get home again?

Oh and it's 46 days to blast off...

Listening to: tap dancing tracks for Mars
Reading: train timetables
Photo: Hackney Marshes - just because it's a grey miserable day outside

Mutt n Jeff *

Sitting in departures at Dalcross – such is the wonder of dongles! So far they haven’t twigged I’m related to THAT Mr Miller and I’ve managed to get through security without the obligatory rubber glove. On tenterhooks waiting for last minute bag search. “Did you pack the bag yourself?” “Er, yes.” “Are you carrying anything for anyone?” “Er, no.” At what point are the powers that be going to introduce the much needed question “Was there any point in your stay that your Mother could have obtained access to your bag and secreted in half a fruit cake, some black-pudding, home made marmalade and a quarter pound of midget gems?” MI5 please note.
The stresses of London have seemed very far away these last few days - AXPK90’s Morayshire health farm has done the trick yet again. Blustery walks on the beach with Monti by day and sound slumbering stuffed with sea air by night.
I’m not sure how sane it is to live your life vicariously through a Springer spaniel but the delight on M’s face as he chased ducks through the shallow waters of a nearby bird sanctuary was food for the soul. His attempt to doggy paddle the River Nairn in full spate was not though and anxious minutes were had until he hauled himself out of the fast current oblivious to concern and carrying the summer water supply to a small town in his coat. Not for long. (Wet dog x shake) + dry human = dry (happy) dog + wet (not happy) human.
AXPK90 was on form as usual and we had a lovely time just hanging out. Her habit of allocating possessions to individuals is becoming obsessive and one daren’t admire anything in the house without an “It’s yours - when I die!” Both she and M could do with a good ear syringing - I’m not sure if it’s a case of owner imitating dog or vice versa. In M’s case it’s definitely selective – not sure about AXPK90...

Reading: The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson

Listening to: Seagulls

* (c) Mi Hermana

In like a lion...

Poker didn’t go particularly well last night – out after three hands in the first round, no buy in – wise move considering form – waited 25 minutes for second round, out in three hands again! I should have taken note of the unlucky 3 vibe and not gone all in on pocket 6’s. Lazer texted later to say the kindly old uncle look-a-like (obviously a ringer) cleaned up so maybe it just wasn’t our night.
Forty eight hours until 2500 word essay due in.
Playing Midnight Cowboy on rotation to calm nerves – tip of the day: make sure your ipod doesn’t shuffle to “Oh Bondage Up Yours” directly after.

Reading: backs of shampoo bottles, old receipts and take away menus – anything other than work on essay