I ended up in a lodge in a village, with one pub. So, I just decided not to bother. Therefore, these next few paragraphs are written by a not high me.

It was exciting to experience autumn. There’s no autumn in Córdoba. The way the air feels, the colours, crunchy leaves. I’ve experienced none of that in 7 years.

People are inside my brain in a very uncomfortable way. I can still switch Spanish off. I can choose to listen but not hear. If what people are saying isn’t interesting, I just tune out. In English i can’t. So every retarded conversation within earshot carves itself into my consciousness. I’m getting ear raped by cockneys who seem to be always “avin a larf” or “gettin de amp”. In response I just mutter abuse at them in Spanish.

Also, stop making people pay for every single drink one by one, you backwards twats, do table service everywhere and bring the card machine to me don’t make me walk over to the till every fucking time. I don’t work in this bar, that’s your job.

The work part has been productive, I have enjoyed the change and it turns out I really missed Peparami (who now do a beef stick!) and Roast Beef Monster Munch. Unfortunately I’ve so far been unable to locate a packet of Scampi & Lemon Nik Naks.

Tomorrow I can finally go somewhere I actually want to be, I happen to be going home but I’d be equally as happy in many other places but I’m not happy here, and it couldn’t come soon enough.


Peace,

kowalski