Back. Still have kneecaps.
Here's a tip for urban survival: Google "Starbucks" then navigate back via. Safe as houses. Posh, even.
I thought it would be a nice thing to do. My little girl wanted some ghastly branded plastic tat and I found a shop on the Interweb which said they had it on the shelves. Naff all else to do, so I walk the three miles to the shop. Only, the thing is that postcodes in Belfast sometimes don't even manage a passing flirtation with the place you're trying to get to. One dodgy estate full of sectarian graffiti and an altercation with some evil looking geezers in a knackered Sierra later and I finally get to the shop. No Hello Bastard Kitty Cool Cardz Maker. By this point, rational considerations had departed and getting the damn cat had become an article of faith. Happily, an excellent fellow in a red polo shirt sensed my air of manic determination and basically turned the store over until he found one. Hail fellow, well met. I have my gaudy plastic tat. Now all I have to do is make it back again.
And bloody Santa Claus is NOT getting the credit for this one.
Taking a slash
4 days ago