2003-04-28

Well, Yorkshire wasn't as restful as might have been hoped. Haworth has a decent little party scene going on. After a full day of wandering the moors (during which I got rained on, in true Bronte style -- no signs of consumption yet, but I'm hopeful), I was invited by some friendly local blokes to come on an impromptu tour of Keighley's after-hours clubs. Most of them were thoroughly intolerable, of course, but being in the socially lubricated state that I was, I could have spent the evening in a locked utility closet and considered it a good bit of fun.

A locked utility closet seemed an even more inviting prospect the next day on the coach, as I was stuck behind a family who spent the entire six-hour journey shouting at each other, leading me to believe they were either deaf or making a concerted effort to become so. My wishes for a freak mechanical ejection of their seats were tragically unfulfilled.

Tomorrow I'm off to Paris. We'll see if the language barrier, such as it is, keeps me from misbehaving too badly.