Lifted Laundry in London

Hopefully this one won’t be falling down anytime soon...

Hopefully this one won’t be falling down anytime soon…

I used a regular soap powder, but not even the extra strength protection of OMO could save my clothes. Upon returning to laundrette of my choosing, my stash of clothes had been just that – stashed. Feeling slightly miffed about this, I walked into town and sat down and 12 shots of coffee. The caffeine probably helped me to come to a startling fact – humanity isn´t worth spit. I started going a little looney and writing down some thoughts. As a result you can expect a book of my thoughts about the human race at the end of my journey (give or take a year for a good publishing deal of course). But the experience only served as inspiration to begin something new, as I managed to relocate my clothes from the same laundry later on that night after some nice human actually returned them – crisply folded.

I caught up with an Aussie mate, Rob Coltheart and saw how he was doing over in London. Any traces of an Australian tan were completely gone and already the depression from the English climate was apparent. His accent was still particularly un-British so I think it will only be a few months more before his subconscious gives in to peer pressure.

And what kind of traveling buddy would I be if I didn’t catch up with Gemma and Lisa, who I met in Salvador, Brazil. We did the typical British thing and had lunch at the pub followed by a stroll around town and then danced away the evening to about a hundred Kylie Minogue songs. And just about all the British students I meet on my travels ask me about Neighbours… “Is it true that Paul lost his leg?”. I may need to download the synopsis of our favourite soap opera just to engage in conversation with the Brits…

And finally, what is it with backpackers and sex in hostel dorm rooms? I’m not sure… but the guy in the bunk above me discovered the nasty side of hostel accommodation when he invited a certain young girl back to our 8-bed dorm room. Everything seemed to be going well for him until right at the pivotal moment, she turned him down in a very public manner. After all a good night’s sleep is almost a virtue in itself. Next morning there was a room of seven smirking faces and one dark shade of red on another…

Posted on August 7, 2005, in Brazilianaire Vol. 1 and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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