Tales of the Oldest Interailer - Part 1
Tuesday 9th June 2015
Leaving Leicester on Sunday night I was struck by just how different I feel now to how I felt the first time I went interailing. Then it was excitement and adrenalin this time it was sadness and in trepidation. After all the planning and phone calls to make appointments you finally have to get on a train and actually start. I was amazed at just how much that flummoxed me. Not seeing the family for a week really wasn’t something I wanted and I very nearly called the whole thing off. There was also the loneliness of it all as well, for a week I would have no one with me to share the trials and tribulations with. OK in todays society you are never more than a 100m away from a wifi hotspot but even so it was the not having someone there with me that was all of a sudden quite overwhelming.
Well good news I built a bridge and got over myself, could have been very embarrassing if I had got caught sitting in Leicester inventing stories about my trials and tribulations on the by ways and railways of Europe. An early start this morning saw me goaded and prodded on to a flight in the way only a Ryan Air ground crew can do. You do spit out the other end of those flights feeling like you know what a sheep feels like after it has been dipped, confused, dripping and smelling slightly toxic.
I am not sure my host quite knew what to expect, some weirdo Brit turning up on his door wanting to talk to him about what he sells. As he put it “we managed to put a lot of bread on the table” over the few hours together and speaking of bread he did treat me to a very nice lunch. Though if you want my advice dont go in to a restaurant on an industrial estate and be the only English speaker to ask for the tagliatelle. It may have been my paranoia but it all of a sudden it went deathly quiet not dissimilar to that scene in American Werewolf In London when they walk in to the Slaughtered Lamb. Well, it was delivered and all eyes were on me and guess what, I did not disappoint. School boy error really, too much on the fork and half way through a sentence, in it went. I looked like the sea monster out of Pirates of the Caribbean. I had pasta and Bolognese sauce hanging from my mouth like ectoplasm in a horror movie, then made the truly classic mistake of trying to carry on as if nothing was wrong. Nobody said anything but inside I knew I had let my company down, label printing in general down but most of all I had let myself down. I will recover but it is strictly steak and chips from now on when in company.