Beadle Juice

It was a strange one today. Good times, bad times and really weird food times. It also felt like Tuesday, something I’ve never experienced before on a Monday. Normally it’s a drag getting out of bed after the weekend and facing the working week, but for some reason it felt like I hadn’t had a weekend and going to work didn’t bother me.

Tube station breakfast again. It’s great how they utilize the space in the tube stations here. Most of them have shops and fast food outlets. I chose the cheapest thing in the shop but not for financial reasons. I felt like I was getting a dog from the shelter home and bought the saddest looking thing in there. I thought it was a crepe on some bread with a red onion garnish, but on eating it my mind changed and I’m still not sure what it was. It was definitely on bread with a red onion stuck to its roof, but the crepe or omelette thing was a bit odd. It was a bit rubbery, like the insole of a dap. It had kind of creamy onions on the inside and was tasty enough so being ignorant to its species didn’t bother me.

photo 89

Even Greggs wouldn’t serve that

I got to work and everyone but me and another dude had a meeting. Not sure what they were talking about but it took them all morning. I went for lunch at the sandwich shop and ordered a meat, cheese and salad roll. They guy actually asked me if I wanted sauce this time. Normally he just whacks some ketchup and mustard on, so when he asked me if I wanted ketchup or mayo, I was off guard. I said mayo expecting it to be mustard. Schoolboy error. He drowned it in the stuff too. Ruined it.

 

photo 90

If the mayo was mustard everything would’ve be alright.

I didn’t see my boss until 6pm, just as I was thinking about leaving, and he wanted to have a catch up with me and Adam. He told us we had to start putting the presentation together for the pitch next week. This meant that I would stay in work for a further hour and a half. My computer would’ve gotten a volley of abuse back home if I was still in work at 7:30.

After work I met up with Grahame, Cian and a Spanish lad, to watch Ireland’s playoff match against Bosnia. I had a burger and chips beforehand as I didn’t have time to go home and cook. I’m not sure if Prague is taking the Michael with my food today, but the woman deep fried my burger. It’s like I’m on a culinary version of Beadles about. I kept expecting him to rise from the dead, put his good hand on my shoulder and offer me a nice sandwich as an apology, whilst chuckling to himself.

Ireland won which resulted in us staying out to celebrate. We ended up at a bar that had a labyrinth of tunnels and stayed there until 5am; partly because it was fun and partly because we couldn’t find the way out.  Flashbacks to a night out in ‘Fabric’ for Hannah and Max’s birthday a few years ago.

We eventually stumbled out and made our ways home. My journey was to be tram and then tube. The tram but was fine but when I got to the tube station I was immediately hassled by a couple of prostitutes. One of them walked off after a minute or so but the other wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was my money and not my looks she was interested in and so I went to do the universal language of ‘I’ve got no money’, the good old pocket tap, and suddenly realized my phone was missing. Cue angry argument with the prostitute. She didn’t speak any English and I can’t speak Czech so it was a pointless exercise. I left her and tried to find her mate who I assume had pickpocketed me. The thieves are good in Prague, plentiful and good.

I didn’t see her mate. I didn’t see her again either and I very much doubt I’ll ever lay eyes on my phone again. Ah well, nobody rings me anyway. So that’s twice in a matter of weeks I’ll have been to the police station to report a crime. They say things happen in threes so don’t be surprised if you hear I’ve been banged up abroad in the near future.

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