Out of Juice

For once in my life the unthinkable has occurred: the battery in my iPod has been reduced to zero, and I am trapped on this sweltering excuse for a bus being forced to listen to the idle chitchat of local Ned population. I suppose it is my own fault for not sticking the bloody thing on charge, but all this "manually manage music" thing to prevent my computer crashing every single time I plug it in is really messing with my of system of leaving it for ten hours for it to sync itself automatically.

The sickly smell of freshly caught fish fills my nostrils as I try to block out the stories told by the people it disgusts me to call my peers, cringing as I hear about various gropings and the passing around of STI's between their friends. I sigh, thinking how I could have been saved from these horrifying images which now plague my gentle mind, if only I were from somewhere else, unable to understand their thick Methil accents.

I am only able to survive the last stretch of the journey alongside these people who believe that the firth of forth is a site or volcanos and insist upon mutilating some of my favourite songs with their whiny voices, with the knowledge that the most beautiful girl I know will be awaiting me as I get off.

Five more minutes until freedom.

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