the one where I complain a lot

I fly home on Friday. That's like 4 days away (today not counting becuase I'm in it)- in fact by my counting logic it's really only 3 because Friday doesn't count because that's the day I fly out. Or maybe it does because I only fly out at 10pm (which is nowhere near midday which for some reason is the time I've thought I was flying out for the past God knows how many week- I must be mental). At any rate, it's bloody soon.

How was your weekend? It had to be better than mine. Saturday was fine but Sunday- well let's just say that's a day I'm never getting back. Sunday was The Boat Race. This is the annual rowing race between Oxford and Cambridge and little known to me, is just an excuse for everyone who can cram in to London to relocate to the banks of the Thames and get absolutely stark raving drunk. And when you're the sober person trying to squeeze your way through the masses for half an hour to get to a bunch of other people only to find out that you went the wrong way and have to go back and then squeeze through more people in mud and get trodden on and then end up at a marquee where HORRIBLE dance remixes are blasting at such a volume that your head actually vibrates and hurts, well it ain't such a fab time, let me tell you. Take a look at that image of the crowd. I walked through that. If you don't see any free room where anyone could possibly get through, that's because there wasn't any. And I missed the race. It started out well enough, as you can see from the pics of Jen (Aussie girl and a travel beer, small surprise there), Kez and Sam. We were initially in Putney (where there was room and we had a view) but then went to Hammersmith which was near the middle of the race and that's where everyone was. But I'll stop there, all I can really add to it is more grumble grumble, whinge and moan, oh woe is me, etc etc. I will let Sam and my muddy shoes say the rest.