A good night out leads to a bad morning, nothing in life is free and so I paid for my fun with a headache. After dragging myself out of bed and trying in vain to wash the hangover away in the shower, I headed to work. I wish I’d stayed in bed for an hour or so longer as there were only two of us in the office until almost 1pm. I ended up having a Mars bar for breakfast. I couldn’t put myself through the whole toast routine and was meant to grab something from the bakery at the tube station. I forgot to though and when I went in the shop by my office to get some water, I had a brainwave. I didn’t need anything to help me rest but I needed something to help me work, and I’d heard Mars does both of those things, so I grabbed one and put it to the test.
As I was rough I went to the Vietnamese restaurant for some health in the shape of some food. I had a stir-fry, which was amazing and when I finished I got talking to the waiter. He took me to the bar and poured me a stiff drink. I don’t know what it was called but it tasted like Brennivin, the only drink to survive a thousand parties. The taste of my lunch was replaced with the flavor of heat and disgust. Why would someone do that to me? We were friends two minutes earlier. I thanked him through gritted teeth and headed back to work.
The afternoon was spent chatting via email to my photographer buddy and the guy who’s taking me to the detention centre tomorrow, doing a bit of writing and hunting for stories. The photographer asked me what the plan was as he was in the woods and didn’t know if he should stay there or leave. I told him we were meeting at 8:15 at a metro station and I still didn’t know if there was room in the car for him, but I’d let him know as soon as I found out. He replied saying he wasn’t going to join me after all as you are not allowed to take any cameras into the detention centre. I wonder what the crazy dude was doing in the woods. I found a cool story for us to look into though, so I gave him details of that and asked if he could contact the people as it is at a top secret location and his VICE e-mail address is likely to get a better response than my hotmail one.
I had planned to watch the Liverpool game tonight but I spent and drank loads yesterday, and I don’t really want to go to meet the refugees with a hangover. Instead I’m going to follow it on the good old Internet and then get some shut-eye. A big day tomorrow, a visit to the detention centre followed by a visit from my sister Mel and my brother in law Martin.
As promised, here a few pics from the Zizkov match last weekend. I don’t think I mentioned it previously but the ultras were all wearing pig masks. I asked them if it was a jibe at David Cameron but unfortunately it wasn’t. They just did it for a laugh.