Peter went to get his hair cut. He returned with yet more evidence to support our hypothesis that Hungarian style is around 15 years behind the UK:
What they never seem to do in Hungary is hold that little mirror up to the back of your head and ask "Is that OK?". That way they can write things like 'lófasz' in the back of your head, and you won't know for hours.
When we arrived in Budapest, we kept saying that we were going to do something about the awful shower. Holing it up with one hand just wastes time and water, and it's bloody annoying. So, Peter set off with his usual kit of SCART cable, super glue and a tendency to get carried away with problem solving. The original setup seemed OK, until I put the shower on full, and the pressure caused it to swing around and soak everything in the bathroom. After adding an elaborate pulley system, we ended up with this:
Well, we're back in the UK and both staying with Peter's dad in London.
We've not done much of interest really, except for going up to Cambridge today. As typical with our sad excuse for booking cheap travel, we ended up having to awaken from our limited sleep at around 6am. In a state of sleep deprivation we tried to make our way to Victoria coach station. GNER can piss off if they think I'm paying their stupid money for a train. So we ended up getting the coach from central London. Where did it stop first? Stratford! That's just two tube stops from where we're staying in Bethnal Green. Public transport seems to do this to us quite a lot, especially in Budapest, like the time when we spent ages getting to a distant train station, only to find that the first stop was back in the city centre, a few miles from the flat. But I digress.
We got into Cambridge and headed up to Homerton college. The interview went quite well, lots of interesting topics. My second interviewer only talked to me about Sartre. I think he enjoyed talking to someone else whose first philosopher was Sartre - he told me that he was his intellectual hero when he was 16/17. My mother called me up after I got out and told me that I'd been shortlisted at the London School of Economics, so I've had a brilliant day all around.
Peter found a nice cafe and read/RAH-ed. He spent £7.40 on a grandé-mocha-frappa-choca-latté-decaf, a tiny sandwich and a thimble of banoffi pie, so he embarked upon a silent, personal protest in which he sat on their already over-crowded property for an hour and a half just to get his money's worth. We met up with our chum Amy and went for coffee, exploring and booze. Fun was had by all. It was excellent to have Amy with us, she sneaked us into the SPS faculty and took us to all the good places.
We got the bus back to London, had a good chat with fellow National Expressies. Peter even found a physicist to chat to, which is a relief for him as so far on our travels we keep bumping into anthropologists.
In closing, England is boring. I want to go back.
- Philip + Peter
What they never seem to do in Hungary is hold that little mirror up to the back of your head and ask "Is that OK?". That way they can write things like 'lófasz' in the back of your head, and you won't know for hours.
When we arrived in Budapest, we kept saying that we were going to do something about the awful shower. Holing it up with one hand just wastes time and water, and it's bloody annoying. So, Peter set off with his usual kit of SCART cable, super glue and a tendency to get carried away with problem solving. The original setup seemed OK, until I put the shower on full, and the pressure caused it to swing around and soak everything in the bathroom. After adding an elaborate pulley system, we ended up with this:
Well, we're back in the UK and both staying with Peter's dad in London.
We've not done much of interest really, except for going up to Cambridge today. As typical with our sad excuse for booking cheap travel, we ended up having to awaken from our limited sleep at around 6am. In a state of sleep deprivation we tried to make our way to Victoria coach station. GNER can piss off if they think I'm paying their stupid money for a train. So we ended up getting the coach from central London. Where did it stop first? Stratford! That's just two tube stops from where we're staying in Bethnal Green. Public transport seems to do this to us quite a lot, especially in Budapest, like the time when we spent ages getting to a distant train station, only to find that the first stop was back in the city centre, a few miles from the flat. But I digress.
We got into Cambridge and headed up to Homerton college. The interview went quite well, lots of interesting topics. My second interviewer only talked to me about Sartre. I think he enjoyed talking to someone else whose first philosopher was Sartre - he told me that he was his intellectual hero when he was 16/17. My mother called me up after I got out and told me that I'd been shortlisted at the London School of Economics, so I've had a brilliant day all around.
Peter found a nice cafe and read/RAH-ed. He spent £7.40 on a grandé-mocha-frappa-choca-latté-decaf, a tiny sandwich and a thimble of banoffi pie, so he embarked upon a silent, personal protest in which he sat on their already over-crowded property for an hour and a half just to get his money's worth. We met up with our chum Amy and went for coffee, exploring and booze. Fun was had by all. It was excellent to have Amy with us, she sneaked us into the SPS faculty and took us to all the good places.
We got the bus back to London, had a good chat with fellow National Expressies. Peter even found a physicist to chat to, which is a relief for him as so far on our travels we keep bumping into anthropologists.
In closing, England is boring. I want to go back.
- Philip + Peter
posted by Philip Proudfoot at
10:08 pm
1 Comments:
Hiya, here's the physicist you chatted with :P
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