Villa 4 life
Trip Start May 27, 2010
97Trip End Aug 31, 2011
We got the tube over to London Bridge and then walked to Tower Hill. I'd pre-purchased tickets online so we could have a look around the Tower of London. I'd been a few years earlier on my first ever trip to London, but was keen to get another look around, as was Phil
Walking down the stairs we saw Nat and Mike sitting patiently waiting for us, but were greeted more noisily by a stag do that were standing, clapping and cheering us as we walked down the stairs. We were subsequently told that whenever we stood up or moved we could expect a standing ovation from their crew.
We had a few pints and sausages before Phil gave the beer wench some feedback, saying that his German curry sausage wasn't curry-y enough. I reminded him we weren't in an Indian beerhouse. We left shortly after that and met Bec and Andy, and found another couple of pubs in which to while away the hours
Someone walked past and approached one of the boys. Oblivious to what he had said (he had simply asked where the toilets were), I took offence and vowed that when he returned I would punch this guy in the neck. And so I did punch the guy in the neck when he came back past. It then became a funny habit, spurred on by the boys, and whenever someone walked past I punched them in the neck. Most were quite sporting about it, one wanted to punch me back, and Phil stood by hoping that things didn't kick off. Then I got chatting to some dude (aka Marcus Collins) and asked him to sign my body, and saying I would never wash that body part again. He wrote "E.F.C." on my arm. When I worked out what it stood for, I wrote "Villa 4 Life" on his neck. He left shortly after that.
Either the pub closed or we'd had enough, so we got a black cab back to Southwark and had another drink in the hotel bar. We got chatting to some Welsh guys (at least I think they were Welsh - Nat might prove me wrong when she reads this!), slugged back some more beer and then went up to bed.
Overnight mine and Phil's phones had died. Neither of us had thought to bring a charger with us, and so we were phone-less for the rest of the day. We slept almost until checkout time, by which time Nat and Mike had tried to get in touch with us to no avail. So we headed back to Euston to wait for our train ride home. Nandos was good, until I was sick. And when we finally got on the train, I was ill again, having to push my way past the ticket inspector to get to the stinky toilet in time.
I didn't come good until about 8pm that night, after managing to whip together some spaghetti bolognese, hangover cure of champions.
Yet again I could be heard mumbling those famous last words: "I will never drink again".