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Today has been relatively uneventful, mostly hostel bound. I’ve been sorting all my legacy posts tags out for this Blogsherpa thing so that took a fair while. After that I got talking (about fantasy footy) to these 3 lads from Glasgow and spent most of the day with them.

These fellas were getting an over-night train to Amsterdam that so it’s a shame I didn’t meet them earlier in my stay as a good time would have no doubt been had. Today we skulked around the hostel, drank some beer and played some pool.

In fact I had a rather epic encounter with a lad named Ally, my early form was unfortunately on par with Robbie Fowler’s for England and I found myself 5-1 down. In my rather weak defense, I did find the black potted (by myself) earlier than required on no less than 4 occassions. Later on the score became 8-4 and my form was improved but my knack of cruel flukey early blacks continued. Set of b@stards. Well done Ally.

So my new Scottish pals headed off into the sunset (well they didn’t, it was pitch black, but that doesn’t work does it) in search of a border hopping juggernaut to a land of dams, tulips, funny speaking people, cloggs, Heineken and much more.

Before they’d left they’d introduced me to a few other Scottish mates of theirs still knocking about who seemed sound enough too. But there was an ever increasing crowd including several people who I found not to my liking so when the call came to move on I decided for once not to bother.

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt on my travels it’s not to socialise with people I suspect I won’t like as generally it ends up in a shite night and money spent regardless. Though saying that sometimes you can be pleasently suprised.

So I done some more solo drinking and interwebby things and before going to bed (and writing 86% of this) I had a few games of pool with a Californian bloke and his 16 year old son. They were both long haired with a free and hippy look about them but had a kind of contradictory competitive rigid edge which I found not to be Unamerican.

By this time I was playing pretty well as my form generally improves the drunker I get. My pool style is based on interest, mojo and confidence; all 3 rise for me on the table after several (or several more than) pints (or 0,5l). Flair is the way forward.

I leathered the youngster twice but was narrowly beat by Popster, which was most annoying when considering their competitiveness (though granted, I’m probably just as guilty). Again in my rather weak defense, there was no chalk and the tip was flatter than a cake made in a pan the day before Ash Wednesday, this led to a particularly untimely black ball miscue on my part. Thrice buggery.

Doesn’t the Brandenberg Gate look menacing from this angle at sunset.