travelley tips

One point, if you're trying to travel light, this stuff is fucking fantastic. About half a teaspoon is enough to wash you wholly, which means less shit to carry.

And having too much shit to carry is a very very serious matter.

Time moves in waves.

I left on a Wednesday, but spent 21 hours travelling, so that day wasn't really counting as a day.

I'm eleven hours behind UK time, too. If I ring anyone, it's already tomorrow where they are.

The date on this post says July 26th, 7am. It's not. It's the 25th, and half nine at night. I'm pretty cure the 25th is a Monday. Or a Sunday.

During the course of the next two months, dateline-crossing means I'll lose four days, and gain two. How does that work? Does that make me older, or what?

Time travel is real, then.

Which makes sense. Because although it's been less than a week: feels like I've been away a month or so. Can't shake that.

Honolulu - disorientey fadey fog ness

In Honolulu now, after 21 solid ours of travelling - feel very light headed. Have tried ringing you guys but keep getting the number wrong or card not ok for that phone - porbably for the best as it's 4am your time.

I entered a children's competition on the flight from SF to Hawaii, to guess the exact moment we got to the middle point of the journey, and won. I now have to carry around 3 tins of macadamia nuts..... I hate macadamia nuts.

First thing that happened when I got to the youth hostel was they handed me a birthday card from S---, which was well cool. I had to wrench the 88 year old at reception from reading it.

Have already found a four inch dead cockroach next to my pillow in the youth hostel, and been bothered by a mad old drunk Hawaiian bloke in the local shop.

I'm going to blither on the net till everybody knows I got here ok, then go back to my cockroach and sleep the sleep of the macadamia nut winner.

Do not pass go, do not collect 200 pounds

The day before I leave, HSBC decides to freeze my current account.

In case of fraud.

They do this at random. The only way to unlock the account is to ring them and confirm the last five purchases.

They did this late Saturday night, as I was moving house. Without a phone or a mobile. Two days before leaving the country, without any access to moeny other than through ATMS. All of which these fuckers knew about.

I once worked in a call centre. I know the joy of performing a function of being the wall that absorbs the shit your manager doesn't want to apologise for. Yet still I yelled at them. For nearly an hour.

Sample phrase I'm rather embarrassed about now: "this is MY money, not YOURS".

Reassertion of Norms

As zero hour approaches, this new cloak of pre arranged pre planned unusualness is slipping away, and my more normal character resumes. You know, that one that really irritated everybody, the tendency towards waking up a bit late and deciding to pack an hour after I should have checked in.

In keeping with this, I excelled myself tonight. The night before I move all my stuff out at the crack of dawn tomorrow morning.
I stood in the middle of a destroyed flat, wigged out quietly. Flapped my arms. Jumped up and down exactly twice.
Realised I'll move house tomorrow whatever I do. So who gives a fuck?

Went out and got pissed with a friend, had a glorious time.

Oops.

Five Days to Psycho Dice

I haven't been able to conduct a conversation that isn't about my teeth.

I haven't been packing anything, though I'm moving my stuff tomorrow. Keep figuring life's too short to spend my last days in London not enjoying people.

I haven't been doing supremely well at not drinking; champagne cocktails in spectacular location are difficult to resist.

I haven't been worrying so much about what next week will be like. Fatalistic cheerfulness was late arriving, but arrive it did.

click clack

I have new teeth.

Solid gold (easy-action) teeth.

I can eat again.

Words fail to express how fuckin delightful such a simple thing could be.

Five hours of dental surgery down; two more to go. I could almost get used to staring at the stain on the dentists' ceiling, while he forces eleventy-two fat fingers down my gob.

Like to see me flash my bling bling?

Slight Proviso

Just one qualm: could the person sending me anonymous gifts either put their name to it, or stop it?

It's lovely ... but whoever you are, you obviously do not know as many nutjobs as me.

I'm not putting my mouth on that nozzle till I know it's not poisoned.

Dream Index

What you usually hope for when blogging is a little more subtext than this...

Friday: dreamt that after all my planning and fussing and obsessing, I got on the wrong bloody plane on the very first day, ended up in Singapore with nowhere to stay, no way out, nothing planned.
Realised that this was A Good Thing, and calmed down.

Saturday: dreamt I ate the cat's paws, one by one. You know that feeling you get when your stomach's telling you that's quite enough offal for now, thanks? I was chowing down on paw two (S--'s forepaws, actually), when D-- turned up, and I tried to fob off a rear paw onto him, my stomach churning.

Vacillating between timidity and eagerness, now.

Last big thing I haven't sorted: where do I put my cats?

How to keep a customer

The T-Mobile Way: when I explain what I'm doing and ask for a way to disnegage my cell phone without killing the account ...
Offer me an 'extended absence' plan, where I pay you £3 a month just to NOT delete my phone number, and where you transcribe and email to me any voicemails or texts I get till I return.
Brilliant.

The Demon ISP Way: when I ask to transfer my broadband account to another address ...
Demand that I unsub entirely from Demon, but don't let me do that till the end of the month, so you get two weeks extra broadband rental.
Then demand I sign up all over again at the new address, but two weeks earlier, so you get three weeks extra broadband rental.
Wankers.