A day late, a buck short (Newcastle upon Tyne to Swansea)

Hitchhiking was too far, the train was to expensive, Actually everything was. My brother bought my bus tickets from Newcastle to London, from London to Swansea, unfortunately and unforgettably twice. He graciously booked the midnight coach and I nursed a four hour beer to rent the corner of a quiet pub to stay out of the cold.

The most ironic thing happens at that point. With so much time with second language English being spoken by anyone behind a bar, it was perplexing and hardly decipherable when the same happened here. No, not Polish, Jordie.

'Huh, ah, sorry?' Was what I ended up mustering as a reply... Twice.
Eventually I was presented with a bitters, pondering over Jordie was the hardest twisted form of English, spoken by anyone this far. Still we made some conversation till the closing time of nine pm; it wouldn't be the last time I was thankful for a good book.

So in the open air shelter I sat, with my sleeping bag, towel scarf, make do stuff sack hat, feet up on the rucksack feeling rather content with life and a good book. Being dislecsic has an upside, when you have to ration out a two hundred page paperback.

The first part was smooth, getting to London's Victoria coach station. The second part of sleeping and missing my connection, not so much. Can I summarise my embarrassment by just saying "Thanks Jack"?

Long story short, I made it to Swansea, a day late, the thirteenth of December, 2013; though twelve hours at least before I needed to be. Greeted with a familiar smile and a much needed pork pie.

To Italy and beyond adventure: 13 September 2013 / 13 December 2013