As I write this I’m sitting in the airport coffee shop, as I’m gonna be waiting here for another 2+ hours for my coach to arrive. Despite the popular opinion of a certain American girl *cough* ALLIE *cough* a coach in England is not a horse-drawn carriage. It is a bus. A smelly, horrible bus that’s always just that bit too hot and is full of some of the most ‘interesting’ (putting it nicely, they are freaks) people that you’ll meet. While I’m here typing away I’ve noticed a couple of looks, I can’t help but feel like one of those broody authors that only writes in a Costa or a Starbucks whilst having a strong, black coffee. Sadly as much effort as I’ve been putting into this blog, I sincerely doubt I’m the next J.K. Rowling.
So where do I begin; this week (particularly Friday and Saturday) has been pretty intense, both emotionally and physically. Who’d have thought that I wouldn’t want to be going back this early (no offense to my mates back here in merry old England of course, cheggo times will be sick!) but I’m leaving behind (temporarily) what has pretty much become another family, where everyone is from a totally different place; geographically, and as a person, each with their own story that has been brought to the table. It’s hard to imagine that when I finally come back to Sweden that I’ll only have as few as 3 days to say goodbye to some of these lads and ladies.
Anyway to recap this week. I’ve spent it (SHOCK HORROR) partying with everyone I’ve possibly been able to; I hit Sneirkes and Stocken (two of the nations) and over the weekend I’ve had a collective 25+ kilometers. Yes, 25+ KILOMETERS of cycling between parties at Flogsta and Ultuna; with half of that being through snow, which although it looks lovely with the bike tracks being left. It’s a total ***** to ride through. Much more effort is involved. Effort for most part, is something I sorely lack. Dinner with my Dutch minx (I’m not being offensive; she loves being called that… Honest!) Was a great change of pace in the middle of the week too, casually having casadias (I sure know I spelt that wrong) in a student pub in Sweden, over a really dry white wine (i.e. the only white wine they had) and the finest (yet cheapest) beer available. It sounds incredibly fitting to be honest. We’re classy.
The flight was okay, it was delayed by about 30 mins but no biggie. Just meant that I’d be waiting in this coffee shop for not as long to be honest. As long as it got me home I was happy. I had the window seat (without a window, ironically) and I was next to this mother and her daughter. I fell asleep pretty quickly, thanks to the exhaustive efforts of last night, only to be woken up by the daughter getting told off for doing something. I hope this isn’t a sign of things to come for this coach trip. Coaches tend to make me despise children. (I am a nice guy though; really… although it is starting to worry me how much I feel I have to reassure the readers of these posts).
Anyway, it’s 21:05 here and I’m not getting back to Nottingham until 4:00. FUN TIMES. It’ll most definitely be worth it though. I’m already getting a weird fuzzy feeling just hearing English accents everywhere, although I’m still a hell of a long way from home I’m feeling the progress being made. I’ve got 3 weeks to see my family and friends, tear Nottingham a new one with our antics on NYE and if you didn’t know, I’m recording my first EP; I’ll probably make 200 copies when it’s done. If you’re special you may get one
23:15 and the coach finally arrives. Words cannot describe how much I’m looking forward to pass out. It seems that I won’t have the standard issues of coach travel that I explained earlier; I’m the only passenger on this bus. Not really surprising considering how late it is. Just before it arrived I met this girl from Brighton, who seemed pretty down on her luck with accommodation in Bristol. From what she said her old flatmates were right kukhuvuds. For my first proper conversation since I’ve gotten back in England, I salute her and wish her the best. Not literally a salute though, because that would be odd. The coach is finally moving and the driver is nice enough to wake me up at 4:05. Winning.
Incidentally, at around 3am I dropped my iPod, which caused me to wake up when a chirpy Argentinean man asked what I’d dropped and was helping me find it in the near pitch black coach. After finding it I had a nice chat with him and his girlfriend; the former a biologist and the latter also being a biochemist. So with her aversion to speaking English with a complete stranger we had a translated science conversation about what kind of stuff we’re both working on. They were both going to Nottingham too so the standard questions about where to go around also came up. Maybe I’ll catch them again at some point before I head back to Uppsala!
So now it’s around 4:30 and I’m starting the trek from the bus station to home where a kind bloke offered me a ride to nearby my area; saving me another 30 mins walking. Good ol’ English hospitality right there.
I’ll end it here, I reckon you’d have gotten tired of reading my drivel for now (but you better keep coming back for more!) and I’m currently finishing typing this up whilst catching up with my dad over whiskey. I’m sure I’ll contact most of the Uppsala people whilst I’m a few hundred miles away. Don’t miss me too much As I said in that final round of phone calls before I ran out of credit; Merry Christmas and a happy new year, and I’ll see you when I see you.