Many of us will have had to spend various nights sleeping in places which weren't our homes, or others' homes, or hotels etc. I've slept in a few railway stations (Köln, Liverpool Street) as well as bus stations (Bristol, for example). Airports as well (Heathrow, Gatwick). Nothing unusual in these, I suppose, There are some other nights I've spent which may or may not be odd, but as Ray de Galles invited me on a different thread to have first slog at this here goes. Excuse me for copying and pasting from stuff I've written before.
1978: outside a house in Dover, after a ferry trip from Calais which arrived at 2 o’clock in the morning. I met a lad from Leeds and a girl from California. We pitched his fly sheet in the front garden of a deserted house, after a ferry trip from Calais, before catching the train to London in the morning.
[This one is cheating a bit since it did involve a bed but for me at least it's memorable.] 1978: a house somewhere in Anglesey following a party which had something to do with staff and students at Bangor University. When I woke up, hungover, in the morning, I discovered that the only exit from my room was through another bedroom in which the two occupants (probably the tenants or owners of the house) were busy making love. It took a long time, even though I was desperate for a piss, to pluck up the courage to open my door and make a run for it through their room.
Early 1983: a ditch somewhere in Essex. I'd gone to a party in a village by the art teacher in the school where I was teaching, but I couldn't find the house and the telephone number I had didn't work. With night falling, no public transport, no taxis around, this was the only option. Though it was cold in the ditch, at least it was dry. The morning after, I hitched back to Witham – from ditch to dull as ditchwater in one car ride.
1991: railway sidings in Gijón. This was after our English Language School Christmas do. I got a bit too drunk before the meal, more so during it, wondered off sometime between the main course and the dessert, and woke up the following morning with a couple of broken teeth and a bloody nose not knowing what the hell had happened.
1993: sleeping rough in Oviedo. I went by train with my friend Dani to the south of Asturias, in Spain. The intention had been to camp outside around the small town of Campomanes, but I forgot to bring the map which a friend had provided us with, we got lost, wandered around the countryside a bit (which was lovely: cherry trees, chestnuts, beautiful fresh water). We ended up in Campomanes itself, where we visited four of the five bars we saw; then went to the town of Mieres where we played pool in a bar called El Mineru (full of heroin addicts) where he pretended to be Dutch (which actually put a lot of pressure on yours truly to keep up the joke), ended up in Oviedo where we discovered we'd missed the last train home to Gijón, and so finally we crashed out on a traffic island on the Oviedo-Gijón road, having failed miserably to hitch a lift.
There are more but that's enough for now, How about you?
1978: outside a house in Dover, after a ferry trip from Calais which arrived at 2 o’clock in the morning. I met a lad from Leeds and a girl from California. We pitched his fly sheet in the front garden of a deserted house, after a ferry trip from Calais, before catching the train to London in the morning.
[This one is cheating a bit since it did involve a bed but for me at least it's memorable.] 1978: a house somewhere in Anglesey following a party which had something to do with staff and students at Bangor University. When I woke up, hungover, in the morning, I discovered that the only exit from my room was through another bedroom in which the two occupants (probably the tenants or owners of the house) were busy making love. It took a long time, even though I was desperate for a piss, to pluck up the courage to open my door and make a run for it through their room.
Early 1983: a ditch somewhere in Essex. I'd gone to a party in a village by the art teacher in the school where I was teaching, but I couldn't find the house and the telephone number I had didn't work. With night falling, no public transport, no taxis around, this was the only option. Though it was cold in the ditch, at least it was dry. The morning after, I hitched back to Witham – from ditch to dull as ditchwater in one car ride.
1991: railway sidings in Gijón. This was after our English Language School Christmas do. I got a bit too drunk before the meal, more so during it, wondered off sometime between the main course and the dessert, and woke up the following morning with a couple of broken teeth and a bloody nose not knowing what the hell had happened.
1993: sleeping rough in Oviedo. I went by train with my friend Dani to the south of Asturias, in Spain. The intention had been to camp outside around the small town of Campomanes, but I forgot to bring the map which a friend had provided us with, we got lost, wandered around the countryside a bit (which was lovely: cherry trees, chestnuts, beautiful fresh water). We ended up in Campomanes itself, where we visited four of the five bars we saw; then went to the town of Mieres where we played pool in a bar called El Mineru (full of heroin addicts) where he pretended to be Dutch (which actually put a lot of pressure on yours truly to keep up the joke), ended up in Oviedo where we discovered we'd missed the last train home to Gijón, and so finally we crashed out on a traffic island on the Oviedo-Gijón road, having failed miserably to hitch a lift.
There are more but that's enough for now, How about you?
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