Wednesday and Thursday

Wednesday passed without incident. We didn't go to the Zotte, and given that it was midweek, we stayed in and I cooked Curry:



On Thursday I was out of Amsterdam for the day, so I didn't see Paprika until late at night. Because there were very few alcohol based landmarks that I could meet her at, and I was coming from a train station, it was the Zotte with my boss:



It turned into quite a sesh. It started with an Orval:



and fuelled by spicey sausages....



...olives....



......fresh brown bread.......



.......pate..........




..........cheese...........



moved to Chimay Blue:




The music was also flowing, we had some soundgarden:



.....happy mondays....



.....Busted.....



Eventually when it was getting too busy, we decided to have a beer outside at the bar next door.This idea was soon rained off and we headed for home. Although Paprika was drunk, you'd hardly recognise the drinking constitution that arrived last friday.

It's almost June, but no one seems to have told the weather. I was really disappointed that Paprika didn't get better weather, cos Amsterdam really is wonderful in the sun.

We find ourselves cycling home through what becomes torrential rain.



We are hardly dressed for winter, and it just seems to be getting worse and worse and worse... intelligence would have dictated that we should have taken the tram, but getting an Amsterdammer to give up his bike isn't as easy as that.

On the last turn before home, I slide on a wet tram track, and we're on the ground. Luckily Paprika is unscathed, and apart from a leg that is still several shades of Blue, yellow and purple from ankle to knee, I came off okay.

From the gutter, we dust ourselves down and head for home..... Paprika's trip to Amsterdam seems to become more complete by the day.

Back in Amsterdam with Satan, Gollem and a new flat mate

So late last night I returned to home for the first time in 2 weeks, and I'm going to spend the whole week here for the first time in 5 weeks. I settle into bed looking forward to my first long lie in over a month.

I'm woken up just after 10am by a knock at the door. It's my new flatmate. My previous flat mate moved out while I was off travelling. So on a day where I thought I could be adventure free for just a few days - I now have a new flatmate to meet.

He's a banker from New Zealand, and we decide to seal the relationship by going off to Bar Gollum that night.



Bar Gollem serves hunners(Scottish for many - one, two, hunners), of Belgian beers. We seem to have opted for a beer called Satan(http://www.satanbeer.com). Maybe the tiredness had taken my common sense away, but I didn't notice that this was a bad omen.




It's my recollection that we had 4 of those babies. The problem is that when you are drinking normal crappy(But oh so standardised) beer,



you start to feel it, and decide to have a last one before the off. With Belgian beer, that last beer shouldn't be taken, cos it is liable to change you from a little tipsy to completely plastered.

Luckily being a seasoned drinker, I recognise this - make my excuses and head for home. Unfortunately there is a further problem. The best means to get around in Amsterdam is by bicycle. I often cycle home with few drinks. I would never even think about getting in a car drunk, but cycling is less of an issue, cos the only person you can harm is yourself, and the small canal streets of Amsterdam ensure that there is little fast traffic.

Most sane people(Those who think twice before drinking a beer called Satan) would have walked or got a tram, but I decide to slowly cycle. All goes well - I'm listening to the beastie boys on my iPod, when taxi pulls out in front of me. I stop suddenly - normally not a problem - swerve a little and rattle my front wheel off the kerb. This is normally results in you losing control for a second but recovering, but in this case I take a tumble. Maybe because of the beer - maybe it would have happened anyway. Nothing serious, I fall over and land on my elbow. I think it is nothing an cycle on. By the time I get home my elbow is throbbing - I've grazed my elbow.

I realise several things now. The first is that children are hard as nails - never do I remember grazing something and it stinging like this. I try many things, sure that there is a parental secret to stopping a kid's grazed elbow from stinging. I have an ice lolly - I play with some lego - nothing works. I decide to give up and go to bed, but realise I should clean my elbow.

Having been in Scotland for the best part of 3 weeks and carried my mountain first aid kit around, it was used to cover blisters, the paracetamol cured a couple of hangovers, and then there was the aftermath of the drumstick fight.

Never did I think I would need it in such a flat country. I realise that I have no plaster's, no antiseptic cream, no nothing. I have a good think - pour some whisky(Only bell's) on it give it a wipe and head off to bed.

I'm looking forward to getting to know my new flatmate - any relationship which has scars to show when it started can't be half bad.