Shamelessly stolen from last year, but here are a few things to get used to again:
* Wearing socks. And pants. Cleans ones at that.
* Eating.
* Driving with the windows up.
* Not having to herd at least 30 cats before every decision.
* Rain.
* Not having €70 fill ups twice a day.
* Not having your squadron at the end of a walkie ready to solve (or at least throw money at) any problem.
* Not having any money left.
* Not being pink on one side depending on which side of the car you’ve been sat on.
* Not being able to raise an instant smile and a wave from anyone by driving a strangely decorated car through the centre of the busiest town you can find.
* Sleep. Lots of it.
* Being in the same bed (not to mention country) for two nights in a row.
* Not talking filth and bollocks constantly.
* Not having the power of 100 amazing comrades on tap at all times.
* It being about being there, not getting there.
* Not talking in cliquey in-jokes the whole time.
* Talking about getting into Russia… (or not…)
* Not having a partially naked, drunk man wearing a pink bra to ‘help’ with any occasion.
* Tipping waiters
* Not having to drink your way through a hangover
* Having people pronounce your surname correctly.
As a finale to the week, I’d like to thank Rick and Nick for inviting me along on their annual holiday again. Much fun was had, many friends reacquainted, and many more friends made. Next year, I promise to be slightly more prepared.
Love you guys!
B.