Jaffa Cakes. Beans. Real sausages.

I have several memories from today. One that stands out is the breakfast. Beans, superb sausages, proper bacon, bread and butter, egg, tea. In a cafe. In Birmingham.

Yes. Brum. The Midlands. Not Alabama.

My flight landed at Stansted shortly after midnight, and by 2am I was unconscious on the concrete floor with my rucksack as a pillow. I woke around 5am, munched an orange as a starter, brushed my teeth, freshened up and started plodding towards the M11. Before I’d got half way, a nice man in a white van picked me up and drove me to where the A14 crossed the M11.

I jaywalked across the big roundabout and was surprised ten minutes later when an 18-wheeler pulled up. I’ve only ever had one lift from a trucker before, mainly due to their insurance. The last guy that picked me up was in the UK many years ago and he was hauling several million pounds worth of aluminium. This driver had a trailer full of liquid with a flashpoint around 20 degrees centigrade. Thankfully it was 7am and 11 degrees so I wasn’t about to explode.

My driver for the journey to the M6 J6 was Sophia, a 30-something lesbian with two children and a wife back in Belgium. Her wife was pregnant with their third child (Sophia had borne the first two). You certainly meet a variety of people when you travel. Amazingly, I was dropped off a ten minute walk from Aston Villa FC, right next to the car park I usually inhabit when I go to away games there. I was also six or so hours earlier than I expected.

As luck would have it, Lyse (who I’d met through Couchsurfing) is an absolute sweetheart and came to get me at a moment’s notice. Eventually. After I spotted her driving across the A38 at the next junction down.

“What are you driving?”
“A silver Focus. I just crossed over the A38.”
“Erm… is there a minibus behind you?”
“Yes!”
“You need to head north a bit. I just saw you cross the next bridge down from the one I’m stood on.”

Lyse took me to her rather swanky pad, and provided me with a key, a broadband connection and directions to a nearby greasy spoon. This is where I tucked into my breakfast. Much as I enjoyed my falafels over the last week or two, it was nice to have a decent full English in my belly after so long. Best sausages and bacon in months!

So I’ve spent the day catching up on stuff, relaxing, repacking all my luggage, randomly texting and ringing people and so on.

To those who didn’t spot I was heading Brit-wards, I’m sorry. The “big return” is supposed to be after The Walk and I don’t want to spoil that moment! Hence I’m limiting myself to the bare minimum of friends contact over the long weekend I’m here before jetting off to Barcelona on Monday night.

Don’t expect any more posts until Monday after Download! In the meantime, a huge thank you to Lyse for being a wonderful hostess, who can make a cracking chicken curry!

15 thoughts on “Jaffa Cakes. Beans. Real sausages.

  1. Star Wars? Wassat then?

    Don’cha hate how charming Mosh can be? If I tried hitchhiking my way up the M6 I wouldn’t be picked up by anybody.

  2. You don’t have to be charming. I had stripes shaved in my head. Just walk along with a sign saying where you’re going and carry a rucksack – a lot of drivers will only stop for obvious backpackers.

  3. And wasn’t it a fun weekend? Even if you did nearly kill yourself in the pit!

    Now I just have to wait another 4 months to see you again…

  4. Probably. Well, maybe not, unless they turn all manky and your arms fall off.

    I have no voice. And I’m at work…where I have to talk to people on the phone. This’ll be fun…

    I blame Mr Dickinson and his repeated commands to ‘Scream for me Donnington’.

  5. Nothign droppnig off yet, but my elbows ache like mad every morning. Just really, really stiff. Should be fine in a day or three.

    I blame the three hundred or so other people who were kicking bells out of me during Slayer, Machine Head, Killswitch Engage, Papa Roach, etc etc etc

  6. I seem to have more and more bruises appearing by the minute and I didn’t even go near a pit. Seriously, every time I look at my arms they seem to be more bruised!

    I’m still thinking that I should have got my boobs out for Slayer though…

  7. The two worst bruises on my upper arm have gone, though I spotted quite a few round my ribs recently.

    As for the boobs, you’d only have made everyone else give up as they couldn’t compete. Besides, any more talk of the number of boobies on display around Linkin Park etc and Andy will be crying his eyes out over not going.

  8. *Enjoys making men cry so continues to talk about boobs*.

    *Contemplates bands to see where she can get her boobs out.*

    I am too tanned. And worse everyone says I look healthy this way. Tallia is meant to be pale and interesting…not tanned and freckled.

    As the corset thing, be inventive when you get back to the UK. I’m sure you’ll think of some way to manage it.

  9. No more talk of boobage! It speaks volumes about my sex life that I saw more nipples on a big TV screen at Donington than I’ve seen in the last two years in “real life”.

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