I hate travelling. I like being in a different places and seeing things I have never seen. But I hate getting there. It’s boring, and uncomfortable, and I always need to poop as soon as we leave.
I can’t remember the exact year, I’m gonna say 2007. But my mate Rob and I hired a van and drove down to Newquay to do some surfing and stuff. But for some stupid reason, instead of getting a hotel, we put an air bed and two sleeping bags in the back and spent a week sleeping in the back of it.
It was freezing.
Now me and Rob have been drinking buddies since, well forever. And I reckon for 75% of that time we have both been single. And we used to always used to go out and try and talk to girls. And we were terrible at it. I still can’t talk to women. I can’t talk full stop. I just stare at them and try not to trip over anything. I’m terrible at being single, and I’ve been doing it for years. It’s impossible for me to get a girl to like me on a night out. I’m either too drunk, or they’re too drunk, or it’s too loud so I stutter and stammer all over the place because I have to put my mouth right to their ear. Then there’s all this pressure for me to say something witty or complimentary and I just get verbal diarrhea. And pretend I don’t know where the toilets are or something.
Rob’s slightly better at it. But when you ask a girl to come back to yours…and it’s a van. She’s going to think you’re a serial killer.
He managed it anyway and I went in a mood because he got lucky and I didn’t. They even went skinny dipping in the sea in the middle of the night and I had to sit on the beach with his skiddy undies, watching from a distance just in case they drown.
I get back to the van and get in the back. He and his new friend go and get in the front seat and start doing….stuff.
There was even a vent next to my head so I could see his little white bum going up and down, it was horrific.
Apart from this the trip was pretty good. I almost broke my neck in the sea, I bought a brand new camera and dropped it practically as I walked out of the shop, and I think we ended up dancing on a stage at some point (it was the first time I’d had Jaegermeister)
I could write a blog just about the ludicrous things this boy does alone. He once went alone into a field behind his house where a load of wild horses were in the middle of the night and took a picture with his arm around it. I’m pretty sure the horse is smiling too. This holiday was eventful to say the least. And I can’t remember half of it.
I just want a normal holiday, with a normal person.
Not Rapists on Tour 2007.