Take the national express when your life

It'll make you smile
All human life is here
From the feeble old dear to the screaming child
From the student who knows that to have one of those
Would be suicide
To the family man
Manhandling the pram with paternal pride
And everybody sings ba ba ba da…
We're going where the air is free

(Lyrics (C) The Divine Comedy)

As you might guess from todays entry, I took an national express journey down to Bournemouth via London for one of Katie’s friends weddings.

Armed with a thermos flask of tea and sandwiches we turned up at Liverpool bus station for 10 am on Sunday morning. I know thermos flasks have that unhealthy trainspotter conotation BUT, the ability to dispense hot caffine on demand is not one to be scoffed at (in fact if I were one of the X-men, my special power would be to spray scalding hot tea at my enemies from some kind of duct in my hands). Anyway I digress.

We stopped over in north east London on Sunday and had Falafel for tea. I can’t remember which area of London it was (possibly Wood Green) but the office of the Cyprus Potato Marketing Board was just down the road from us.

The actual wedding was kind of cool (took place in Bournemouth town hall) and had bubbles instead of confettti (presumably because confetti takes too long to clear up). We didn’t get to see the sea though because we had a seven hour journey to get back again Grr. Coach journeys can be fun if you actually have something to do, I sat attempt to read Either/Or by Soren Kierkegaard in the scorching heat. It wasn’t going to happen. Ah well.

And the first thing we saw when we arrived back in Liverpool, was a scallie in a lacoste tracksuit vandelizing a vending machine in the bus station, and we knew we were home.