Invisible Stranger


Invisible Stranger

Collecting Crises on Old Compton Street and Beyond

Contact me

Little Tinker

Currently clicking:
- bboyblues
- bitful
- blue witch
- diamondgeezer
- glitter for brains
- london calling
- naked blog
- troubled diva

Usually Playing:
- ute
- neil and chris
- peter and anna
- june
- kurt

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Thursday, March 27, 2003
Leaving On A Jet Plane
Long weekend in Berlin, so I'll be back on Monday, unless I can find an internet café in the old Heimatstadt.

Now. Get ready. Look for Passport. Count Euros. Order Mother's Day Flowers in advance. Where is Passport? Is that enough Euros? Set Alarm (why did I choose an 8.30am flight, for God's sake?). Choose clothes. Change ansaphone message. Internationalise numbers on mobile. Look, I know Passport is there somewhere. Iron clothes. Oh f**ck! Final demand for the phone bill. Hastily scribble cheque. Pack clothes. Have second thoughts. Unpack clothes. Try clothes on. Oh no, can't possibly wear that at Hafen. Chuck clothes. Where is that damn… Nononono. Not enough free VHS tape to record this weekend's Corrie. Did I cancel the milk? And the papers? Choose more clothes. Where is Passport? And the phone charger? Is the Household Contents up-to-date? Should I turn off electricity? Yes, I know it doesn't "creep". Can't be too careful, can you? What do you mean, train strike tomorrow? How do I get to the airport? Oh no, look awful in these clothes. Must E-Mail work. Phone me if you've any problems (don't even think about it, you bastards). Sod it, these jeans will have to do. WHERE IS MY PASSPORT?

Bis später, my dears.