We've only been in Italy for two months but have settled into it's rhythms far more than I'd realised. Arriving back yesterday was a huge culture shock. Far more of a shock than when we returned last year after two months of travelling in Rosemary. Of course we were very sad last year to get back and give up veedub living, but this was very different.
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| Welcome to Britain |
The first shock, having been told constantly for the last 2 months that the UK was basking in the biggest heatwave ever, was to get blasted by cold, wind and rain as we sat in the airport bus taking us across the tarmac to the terminal. In flip flops and shorts. Will somebody shut that damned door!
Of course everything seemed so fast, everyone was in such a hurry. But that we expected, life back in the fast lane. But it was more a feeling of weird wrongness, not helped by returning to the flat with somebody else living in it. Very very weird. Our flat, our stuff, but someone else's too. Someone else's life mingled with our life. But another life. From another time and another place. Caught in a time warp.
KP and I both stood on the balcony and looked out over the South Downs. In silence. Not quite sure what to do. We needed to get some normality back. Only one thing for it. A curry! Yes. That's it. Quick drink, quick curry, home and bed. Nice.
Or not.
The curry was rubbish. The worst I think I've ever had. And the worst service ever when I enquired, politely at first, as to the absence of the green peppers that were mentioned in the menu. Such a little thing.
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| A good Malt Shovel band, conspicuous by their absence |
Without dwelling on the whole sorry affair that ensued, we gave up trying to rescue our evening that was now fast going down the pan, paid for the beer and wine, but not the food, and went next door for open mic night in The Malt Shovel.
Having seen some great bands there in the past, this should have been an excellent way of recovering our evening. But no. It just wasn't our night. No open mic night. The place was dead. One drink and we were off, still determined to finish on a good note.
We tried The Bear, good old dependable local full of some of the best characters Horsham has to offer (yes, really). But dead too. What is going on? How can so much have changed in such a short time?! Where is everybody?
Ah yes. Bar Van rebranded. Taken back to its roots. The Anchor Hotel. And we did recover our evening. Of sorts. Live DJ thing going on playing all the old, very old, tracks from the 70s and 80's. Lots of noise, people, dancing and some people we knew. So the evening was fine, but it was now midnight.
So much for our quiet evening and early night.
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