On her Majesty's Drunken Service

The mission: To bid farewell to Donovan, he of South African fame, and one of the three other people who share the room with me at the hostel, for he was returning to Johannesburg.
The crew: About 25 people from the Barmy Badger's Backpackers.
The location: The King's Head Tavern.

Being a tuesday night, and, because I'm trying to decrease my tolerance on great liver killing draughts of beer to keep my going, I moderated somewhat, finishing only a few pints. I figured some degree of moderation was required because A) I had work the next day and B) the bar was being set pretty high by everyone else in the hostel. At one point there was a few blokes drinking triple rum and cokes. Captain Morgan's rum at that. Yikes.

But all in all it was a good night. It's probably the only aspect of the hostel I will miss, namely, the social scene. It's a pretty good bunch here, all things considered. One of them, a Canadian geezer named Dan, talked me into trying a Canadian beer that was on tap called Sleeman's Honey Brown Lager. Pretty good stuff. The glass it comes in had to be seen to believed - so I stole it, and smuggled it out in my jacket at the end of the night. I'll include a photo in my end of week round-up.

Anyways, the wash-up of the night was that Donovan got extremely drunk and actually stayed the night at Liz's (the hostel owner) place, due to vomiting profusely and generally being a complete pisswreck. Sounds familiar for some reason. I got home, glass in hand. And one of the residents made a promise, and signed a contract that we drew up on the back of a dinner menu. Namely, that he would shag KFC Liz, a rather unattractive lass with a pot belly, who subsists on the fast food that forms part of her name and occupies the couch in front of the TV on a permanent basis - in exchange for a week's rent. 90 pounds isn't anywhere near enough to stoke that particular fire. For those in the band, think that percussionist who used to wear real foxes for shoes. For those from St Paul's, think Casey Maine. And for those of you not from either of those organisations, think Kim Beazley in drag.

On that mental image, I bid you adieu.