poor freedom

Had 3RM and Dove around last night, in my snot-filled state. Haven't seen them both in a little while and, being my two most intense friends, it's always a level of conversation that amuses me.

Dove was totally freaked out by the Greyhound Head Lopping. Dove has been on the story, Googling it to pieces, since its gruesome inception. And as a result can't sleep, because she keeps on having mares about a dude with a scythe in her bedroom.

But we also spoke about the times in our lives where we were so poor and free and how at the time it sucked donkey dick, but looking back it was voted as one of the best times of our lives.

The only time I recall being bankrupt and happy though, was when I was backpacking around Europe.

The times where:
1)It was too much to pay a euro to pee in a public street cubicle.

2)And we lost our tent and had to rent a piece of grass to sleep on.

3)Or the time we had to share with a deaf dude because we couldn't afford a whole room to ourselves, and he locked us out, and fell asleep....still deaf...and unwoken by our calls/futile bashing down of door.

4)Or when we kipped with a whole lot of Romanian refugees in the port of Livorno.

5)Or when a dry piece of baguette was a staple meal.

And how, none years on, we'd probably, as prime twentysomethings, never voluntarily – God willing - let ourselves slip into that anarchy again.

Sure, we'll travel (and fucking plentifully I hope), and we might run out of money. But, isn't that now why I have a credit card?

And maybe I wouldn't choose to pee in a street cubicle, because I wouldn't be waiting for the cheap train to Aix en Provence; I have an alarm clock on my Blackberry and I'd sleep in a bed until the train convenienced me.

Or maybe I'd leave all that stuff at home and do it like I was 18 again.

Of course, the reason why we were so short of cash on that trip is because we thought buying Italian leather jackets in 35 degree heat in Florence at the beginning of the trip would be a good idea.

Which makes me panic, I have to sort out my fucking budgets for Greece. Have to be sensible now.

And the bloody Schengen visa. Two words:
1)Ball; and
2)Ache.