<$BlogRSDUrl$>

Friday, May 02, 2003

Before I finish off the “French Trip Catastrophe” I’d like to point out a few things:

After reading through this blog I realized my spelling and grammar are horrible. So for those who are not aware: I’m dyslexic, I can’t help it. I promise to try to spell check my posts with Word from now on, but it won’t always be possible.

Also, from reading my posts you might get the impression that I am a heavy drinker. That is not the case; in fact the opposite is true. I’m a really light drinker, which is why there are more then a fair share of alcohol related incidents posted here. They stand out because I’m not really into drinking, but when I do, it always leads to crazy adventures. Plus writing about intoxicated adventures allows you to embellish with ease :)

Editors note: Please read part one, a few posts down, first!

Back to France, or at least what I can remember of it:

After getting off the train we boarded a coach (bus for you North Americans reading) hired by the Firm. We proceeded to view sites of interest to Architects when they visit Paris. This turned out to by far more interesting then I expected. Some of the Buildings were really fascinating works of art matched with practical design needs.

We also visited a photographic gallery, which I, as a photographer, was really looking foreword to. Unfortunately it turned out to be very mediocre. After words we wandered back towards the train station, stopping for drinks at every other Café we passed. Before I got too intoxicated I managed to get only few good pictures, but that was a bonus anyway.

The last café was just outside the train station, which lead to a marathon drinking session by my co-workers, which I tried to avoid. As people got drunker it was quite enlighting to see who acted in what way. By the time we left for the station, I had had quite a few drinks. Bad move Rory.

Customs really does not like drunken people trying to explain their immigration status. And in my case it’s hard enough to explain while sober. It turned out that they thought I should be deported! Because I was travelling on a Canadian passport, but had no work Visa (which I don’t need, because I was born in England!), they tried to refuse me entry. I managed to talk my way onto the train back to London, despite my semi-drunken state. Fuelled by my brush with Her Majesty’s Royal Customs officers (who I hold no ill will against, they were only trying to do their job), on the train home I joined in on the drinking with gusto.

The next thing I remember I woke up in my flat. After that I basically had a relaxing weekend, which I needed badly.

Well, until Tuesday (Monday’s a bank holiday boys and girls), have fun, and eat some tasty rice.

--Rory


This post was fuelled by Dark Chocolate.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?