Stop that train...

Nobody seems to be able to find ferries that run around Spain and Portugal, so train it is. That puts me in Paris tomorrow, and I do hope to make it to Bar Dix in the evening for sangria goodness. I'll be the one with no hair. That's right, I went through with it and had my whole head shaved by a proper barber. Cheeky bastard left my eyebrows and took my nose (shoddy work), but I still tipped him more than two bits. It was a good shop. The mirrors had loads of looney tunes figurines along the top of them. I forgot to take a before picture, but that's just as well. With three months worth sticking out at all angles I looked pretty lousy.

Felt sharp for the night out, though. As it turns out the sound was weak and nobody danced, but I discovered that I still remember how to drink. Now if only I could remember how to stop.

See you London folk on Wednesday. If you didn't get a flyer for the Pick Me Up party and want to come email me today and I'll forward it on to you when I hit Paris.