Blogs we like

I’m feeling somewhat tender this morning as I was up to 5 in the morning drinking in the hostel and talking to randoms from many nations while supping cheap beer. Was okay.

This hostel is ace actually but my rant on the key (as in Yale, not crucial) situation yesterday was well justified as vindicated by events today. This morning (well not really as it was well past noon) I heard a lot of scuffling about below and it transpired that my bunk mate couldn’t get into his locker built into the underside of the bed. This is because I had the key for the lock in my jeans pocket attached to a Kenyan rhino keyring and the actual room key, why this was I know not. They unscrewed the hinge on the fitting (worryingly, rather easily) and got in that way. It wasn’t until I handed the room key in on the way out (as is protocol) that all became clear. Madness I tell you, madness.

Sorted my train ticket earlier, so tomorrow I’ll be heading to Bratislava, pretty much all day ‘n all. I better watch my alcohol intake tonight as it leaves about 11:00 am, a scandalously early hour for a train to depart if you ask me.

In an effort to feel like I’ve actually seen some of Krakow I went up St Mary’s Basillca before, ooh err Missus eh. On my adventures so far I think I’ve climbed nearly every sort of tower, turret, belfry, spire and steeple imaginable but this mudda was hard work, obscenely steep and considerably claustrophobic. They should put a sign up at the entrance saying “Warning – Climbing this mudda while in an overhang state may lead to you believing that you have swiney”. By chance I’d timed it well though as when I got to the top a lone trumpeter was playing a tune that breaks off mid way through to commemorate a 13th century trumpeter, who was shot in the throat while sounding the alarm before the Mongol attack on the city. I like stuff like that.

Not happy, I scouted out this place an hour and a half before the KO of the Manchester City vs Wolves game (while wearing a City top I might add) and asked if they were showing Manchester City vs Wolves game in my best Queen’s, they said “Yes”, cook a cat I thought. So when come 16:00 I was greeted by The Pie Eaters vs The Rags I wasn’t happy and went to enquire about the matter. They just said “But you said Manchester”, I replied “I don’t want to watch this shower of shite do I”, they didn’t respond. Though I actually am doing that very thing as what’s the alternative? Severely miffed.

Ohh man, I hate watching this lot in a pub full of prawn sandwich scoffers with not a Manc in sight. One of them just started up with ‘Gary Neville is a red’ in a distinctly un-Mancunian accent. I thought about countering with ‘The Neville Family’ but I’m considerably outnumbered so it probably wouldn’t have been wise.

I’m going to list the full lyrics of the aforementioned terrace song as it’s one of my personal favs:

(To the tune of The Addams Family)

—

De da de da
De da de da
De da de da
De da de da
De da de da

Gary and his brother
Make love to one another
They’ve both had their mother
The Neville Family

—

Splendid stuff.

On another sport related note (some travel blog this eh), I don’t know too much about cricket (though I do have a passing interest for many reasons I won’t bore you with) but it’s everywhere at the moment with The Ashes. Anyway, my point being – How micro-second instantly dis-likable is Ricky Ponting. That was a rhetorical question that was. Rhetorical aside the answer was, and you needn’t phone a friend (crikey I’ve turned into Harry Hill – minus the specs, large collar, wit, baldness and Doctorate), very.

The Missionaries of Rhythm are the best break dancing crew I’ve ever bore witness to, much better than the stuff I saw in NYC where you’d maybe expect the cream of the crop circles. An awesome (and that is a word I only use once a year on the grounds of terminology taste) show. It never ceases to amaze me that people can be so good at one individual thing when I can be so bad at so many. Check ‘em out here. You might want to fast forward a bit and I’ll point out that the lineup I saw was slightly different but probably even better.

Umm, I’m hungry now but I feel like Joseph of Nazareth as I’m wandering around plenty but I can’t find a barn serving hotpot. Quiche Lorraine was on my mind from the same gaff as last night but on entering I was told my Zlotys were no good as they have a full reservation, charming that is.

I can hear that trumpeter from the tower again somewhere in the distance, that’s put a grin on my swede.

I’ve stumbled upon a Chinese restaurant via a chance right turn and just gone for soya noodles with beef, it didn’t take me long to order as I was half an hour away from picking up a can of Pedigree Chum (or at worst a Pot Noodle) from the local Polish equivalent of The Late Shop. Ruddy famished.

Very nice it was and cheap as, erm, noodles too.

I chuffin’ hated Grandstand as a kid. Steve Rider was clearly not a football man and why the rubber duck would I give a flying chimpanzee about downhill skiing (uphill would be like climbing St Mary’s Basillca on a snowboard) in Zurich or archery in Wrexham when I’m sat in Gorse Hill contemplating whacking the Binatone on because Grandstand is duller than Michael Owen’s memoirs to be.

So Krakow seems a cool place and is the 3rd of 12 cities so far that I have a desire to visit again sometime soon. That’s a 25% hit rate people.

The pic is of an unusual scene I walked past earlier. Surely that laptop bag contains Semtex, gaffer tape and an alarm clock? Someone should really call Team America. I’d do it myself but it’d cost a fortune on O2 roaming rates.

PS You can’t call me a bitter nosed blue because I acknowledge that Owen goal was sublime, all be it reluctantly. Of greater importance, City are still sitting pretty and as a City-Card holder I got my gratis diamond encrusted Rolex in the post the other day from Croque Monsieur (sorry, I mean Sheikh Mansour). Nice one Shakin’.

PS again. I just heard the trumpeter once more from my dorm window. It’s really nice hearing something of historical substance in the distance when you know the exact spot that it’s originating from. I like this.