Well here we are on day 3 in the icy wasteland formally known as Estonia and once again our intrepid hero is unable to move due to vast consumption of alcohol the night before. Two days in a row and still catching up with sleep from the Wednesday before does take it’s toll on the body and it appears that any movement in the upward direction causes pain.
This general feeling of woe lasted till around 12, when the pain went away just enough to stand up straight, and is instead replaced with a feeling of déjà vu.
“Here we go again.”
And today it was all the difference to move the fat ass out of bed, because today, on the Saturday, Steve and Kristi were getting married, a once (or multiple times, depending on how bad you are at the whole commitment thing) in a lifetime event. There wasn’t much on TV, so why not go? 🙂
We ventured onto a handy coach that had been laid out for us to sleep on, or indeed to remark on the Estonian landscape. Lots of people were there, the best man, the families, some other people who I had no idea who they were. And the distinct feeling that we were being driven to the middle of the countryside to be shot like what happened to those chaps in the Great Escape.
Not only that but the sad fact you tend to draw is that Half of Estonia is being rebuilt while the other half is falling to bits. Granted that kind of analysis is cruel to make considering how little of the country I actually had seen, but alas, that’s all I can truly say about it all. And on the plus side, we made it to the country manor without getting shot.
The place where it all took place was a grand place, set by a lake type thing, with lots of trees, paths, it was the kind of place you would envisage Mr Darcy would try to get various ladies knickers off in a ruggish yet long-winded fashion. When we arrived, the bride and groom were busy having their picture taken in the forest, possibly for the police to use as evidence in case the murder didn’t…err….probably shouldn’t have said anything.



You see, now because they can’t trust anything you have on your person, you have to take it all off. Coats, shoes, belts and in one case with a Frenchman, his trousers. It’s not a nice slight seeing a man walk through a metal detector in his underpants.
When I read the news this morning about the fact that Lehman Brothers, the world’s forth or perhaps now former fourth largest investment bank, had filed for Bankruptcy, a sense of Schadenfreude had overwhelmed my senses, leaving a rather wide smile on my face.
