Fish biz
A mate has fishes the beach with a net and gives me the leftovers for the garden. I line the bottom of the hole with mulch, then dump in the fish, and finally a layer of coffee grounds.
Use it if you got it!
Hostel : Glasgow : Night moves
I’ve dug up a bit out of an old travel journal. One night while tucked up in our beds, all eight guys were woken by loud female shouting, out in the stairwell. A truly sublime pair of unfettered bosoms, filled to the quivering liquid brim with booze, burst through the door. She was atmospherically rim lit by light spilling in through the open doorway as she bounced into the room, and planted rank alcoholic kisses on the guy occupying the bed nearest the door. A girlfriend appeared and dragged our invader back to her room. A heavy, round silence closed around us and when it seemed that no more action would unfold, one of the guys on a bottom bunk got up and closed the dorm door. On another occasion, I was woken by someone moving close to my bed. Something must have been up, cause the guy that sleeps below me usually doesn’t interrupt my slumber. A head was moving around in the dark, and I recognised its silhouette as the young guy who occupies the lower bunk across the room.
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