The number 20 and me.

Date written 14.07.2013  Place:  Somewhere in Mongolia  Time: 14:50

The number twenty has always followed me throughout my life; not only am I born on the twentieth day of January, I have lived in numerous residences with twenty as their number (or within the number, for example: flat 205) or calculation in the post code.

I started going out with my first boyfriend on 20th May, which was the same date I handed in my notice this year to leave work and start traveling.

20130907-152820.jpg

My Grandad died on 20th January this year, my birthday and now I find myself on the Trans-Mongolian express in a 4-berth cabin with bed number 20.  Although I was located bed number 19; after a few “baltika” beers and shots of vodka the other night I dreamt I had fallen asleep on bed 20.

I woke up believing I had fallen asleep here, feeling a strong line connecting its bed to mine, before the realisation elevated me back up to bed 19.

When I arrived in Beijing a few days later it was the number 20 bus I had to catch to get to my hostel.

20130907-153156.jpg

Advertisements

Famous Songs about Cars…

To start it off….

…there’s bands who sing songs about cars, and name their band after cars,

and there’s bands who sing car noises in their songs,

bands who just don’t care where, just drive,

bands who are just honest about it,

bands who have fond memories in their car,

actually Meatloaf sings about cars kinda a lot…

Then there’s the plain stupid,

and partially related,

and to finish it off!

Yeah Baby.

How many songs can you think of which involves cars?


Happiness…

…is in a cartwheel!


Name a bizarre gift you received.

I’ve been given many bizarre gifts.
My whole bedroom can make up for bizarre gifts.

I have a robotic insect, a dinosaur costume, miniature dynamite, a cardboard square with Bob Dylan lyrics written upon it, a cupcake pot made of china, a collection of lost keys that have been found by my Dad, a “Christmas is shit” Christmas card, a pikachu teddy bear, boxing gloves, a toolbox with a hammer, old Swedish currency, a Michael Jackson t-shirt and a stone that looks like a sandwich.

The question is; do weird people give me these gifts? Or do people give me these gifts because I’m weird?

Powered by Plinky