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Lancaster Bathrooms

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Well I figure it’s about time I update again. It’s actually been a truly unpleasant week. I’ve not enjoyed my job at all this week (apart from maybe an hour or so yesterday) and that showed through I guess in my last entry. So now, without further ado: onto the weekends.

Last weekend, as I believe I mentioned, I went to Lancaster to go for Squid Boy’s stag night. I shall first detail the irritations of the nightmare journey getting from here to there. I believe that the public transport system in this country must have been designed to prevent Yorkshiremen and Lancastrians from meeting. It is tortuously difficult to get into our neighbouring county, and requires me to go through two totally different counties en-route. I kid you not! Hang on while I work this out…

It is 53 miles east-west between Ripon and Lancaster as the crow flies*. However, to do this by rail requires:

  • 10 mile bus ride south to Harrogate
  • 14 mile train ride south to Leeds
  • 37 mile train ride southwest to Manchester
  • 45 mile train ride northwest to Lancaster.

This is ‘as the crow flies’*, not taking into account corners where the train has to go round things like hills, buildings, sheep and piles of leaves and all the other terrifying things that can render a British train immobile.

* – I keep noting this because I wonder who decided on the phrase ‘as the crow flies’. Why a crow? What about a deranged crow that flies sideways? Does the crow fly straighter than, for instance, the housemartin? I digress…

In total, to go 53 miles west, I had to go in a massive U shape, a total of 106 miles. That is precisely twice the distance. In other words, had I been able to fly, that distance would have got me there AND back.

Also, there is the added irritation of the cost. While the journey itself was surprisingly less than hiring a yacht for a week (and that’s cheap for British railways), should you want to buy (god forbid) such items as coffee or a croissant or some such, you pay almost as much as you do for the journey.

So I finally arrived and met up with Squid Boy and his lovely bride-to-be (she must therefore be called Squid Girl I suppose.) There were maybe half a dozen of us, meeting up with a couple more later. We made our way into Lancaster centre and into a public house that was welcoming, olde-worlde and served good beer.

My only complaint is the Lancaster Society for Lead Poisoning Victims that seemed to be having a meeting in the only thoroughfare to the Gents. Now when someone is heading for the gents they are usually in a little bit of a hurry I suppose. I know I was. And there did I bump into two Society members. Between them they had four eyeballs, which is not unusual for a pair of homo sapiens. However, no eye looked in the same direction as any other. It was very disconcerting. Wherever you stood at least one eye was on you. And moreover they appeared to be stupefied over the complex mechanics involved in a wooden chair. It took some serious muttering and repositioning before one of them tentatively tried to put buttock to wood. Even then he appeared to have got it wrong and stood once more staring at the implement before more muttered conversation, some shuffling around and another test. I took that opportunity to run past and into the urinatory room.

Interesting in a strange, desperate sort of way. Then there was the Indian restaurant. Again quite a nice example of such. The food was good. The service was good. The toilets were odd. You know those little air-fresheners that squirt periodically of their own accord? Well while I was standing in there, I heard ‘Pffffft’. I looked around for an air freshener, but there wasn’t one. I leaned round the corner to peer into the single unoccupied cubicle to see if it was in there, but no. As I contemplated the possibilities of a practical joke… ‘Pfffft’. Again. Still with no noticeable source. And for some crazy reason the acoustics in said lavatory were so good it echoed round me and I had no idea of it’s rough direction. After a third squirting noise I washed my hands, made my way out and sat quivering at the table.

And then, just to cap my toiletry experiences of Lancashire tour we went into a ‘trendy’ bar. You know, the ones where no one’s within ten years of my age. Squid Boy instantly regretted it and spent twenty minutes shaking slightly and with a look on his face like he’d sucked his foot. In the toilets of THIS place, I approached the three urinals and then had to choose between the one with the vomit in, the one which was rapidly filling as someone had dropped a coin in and blocked it, and waiting behind a strange looking youth for the only clear one. I waited my turn. Afterwards, as I approached the sinks, I had to wait for a man to finish putting something up his nose and then, a finger holding one nostril closed, ejecting something from his other. Charming man I’m sure.

Actually, the evening was a blast. I thoroughly enjoyed meeting up with a bunch of guys I really like and celebrating the last week of freedom for Squid Boy. I would recommend Lancaster to anyone for a night out. Just take a bottle or a bucket or a colostomy bag, coz you won’t want to use the facilities.

This Saturday we will be in Gretna Green for their wedding and I’ll meet all the guys again. Looking forward to it.

I’m practicing holding in the pee already.



Written by SJAT

December 24, 2010 at 11:42 am

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