Day 93: Learning to Riverdance

03.04.09: You really have no idea how itchy my feet become when confronted with a few days of inactivity - I feel like learning to Riverdance, just to give the damn things something to do. So I wasted today like a typical arts student waiting for Countdown to start but luckily for me (and just like a typical arts student), I managed to get about ten minutes of work done before somebody (James) suggested we go out boozing. SO...out we went to the - by now - painfully generic Irish bar, where I was grilled by a lawyer that didn't believe that, a) there was such a thing as the Chinese Sky Train and, b) I was visiting every country in the world this year. Point a) was proven by skipping onto the internet via a friend's Blackberry, point b) was a little more difficult to…

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Day 92: Naught else to do

02.04.09: I'd like to say today past in a drunken blur, but it was more of just a blur. I slept in far too much. James's house is proper solid Canadian fare - situated right beside a huge frozen lake and surrounded by trees, but it's miles from anywhere - so it kind of forces me to GET ON WITH EDITING MY PODCASTS. Although, you and I both know that procrastination is my special X-men like power, so you can probably guess how much I actually got done. Sorry, Dino. Anyways, it looks like I should be in Liverpool for 19th April, so that should be a good night out followed by a crazy 24 hour tour of the UK the day after, so make sure you're there. That night I went for a few drinks in the Elephant and Castle (yes there is one here…

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Day 91: All hail to thee, EIMSKIP

01.04.09: Today began as yesterday ended with some email news, but this time it was GOOD internet news, news that made me do a little dance - Eimskip (the greatest cargo freighter company IN THE WORLD) has said that I can hitch on their boat to Iceland that gets in next Tuesday. Wooooooooo! Although that does mean I have to endure a whole WEEK in Halifax. Boooooooo! With Patricia leaving on a train (she's planning to go over the Niagara Falls in a barrel) and Toby moving into a house with his Kiwi girlfriend, the old Halifax Backpackers was beginning to look emptier than Paris Hilton's noggin after a particularly virulent dose of Bovine Spongiform Encephalitis has turned the stupid cow's brain to mush and then dribbled like soggy playdoh out of her ears. Luckily, it was a case of COUCHSURFING TO THE RESCUE as a…

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Day 90: The Halifax of Life

31.03.10: Now is the winter of our discontent. Well, it's actually SUPPOSED to be spring, but NOBODY SEEMS TO HAVE TOLD THE CANADIAN TOURIST BOARD THAT. I'm colder than a dark Jedi running about in a pair of Y-Fronts killing ‘younglings' in the Arctic. Come to think of it, is that a Polar Bear? No - it's not. Damnit - that would have added some excitement to these parts. Yes, like Patrick Moore's loins, there ain't much going on in Halifax. As I've elected to follow Patricia around like a lost (but rather hyperactive and annoying) pup until she disappears out of real world and I'll only be able to hassle her though the tortuous slog that is DOING ANYTHING ON FACEBOOK THESE DAYS. Come to think of it - where the HELL have my groups gone? And my events? Why has it become Twitter, asking…

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Day 89: The Shipping News

30.03.09: I'm still on the train at the moment; it's a 20 hour journey. Looking out of the window, it's like I've stumbled into Narnia. I almost expect a White Witch to turn up and offer me some Turkish Delight. I don't even like Turkish Delight, but if it meant we got to kill that bloody sanctimonious lion again, I'd take it. Mount his silly head on the wall of my hunting lodge. Tee hee. Anyway, what I'm trying to say it that it is COLD. Bloody cold. Outside is miles and miles of pure white snow, which is being dusted by yet more snow flitting about like the fairies of Dingly Dell. Cars with chains on tyres drive alongside, but, unlike the locals, I can't tell where the road ends and the fields begin. Even the trees look cold, like they're huddling together to keep…

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Day 88: We’re Gonna Need A Bigger Coat

29.03.09: I had set my alarm for 6.30am to give me loads of time to wake up and get to the bus station for the bus for Montreal that left at 8.30am. Dionysus, the god of wine, woke me up at 8.05am. Oh dear. Up and out of the flat before you could say "crikey!" in a silly voice, I pounded down the stairs and out onto the Mean Streets of NYC. Whistled the first cab I saw and jumped inside. The bus station, please and step on it! I've always wanted to say that. I was on 109th Street. The bus station is on 45th Street. That's a lot of streets between me and the bus. Luckily, it was Sunday morning, not a weekday - we hurtled down Central Park West like in a movie, switching lanes and honking at those crazy maniacs who dared…

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