First Score

First shave of the holiday &; what a difference. Lots of cars
tooting at me &; even more stares. I must be looking damned fine.
Although the colour co-ordination of green hat &; green top could be
it.

I then, reconfirmed my tickets to Bogota via Caracas. Bit of a strange
system really. You have to reconfirm all flights at least 72 hours in
advance. I mean, you surely wouldn't have booked the flight if you
didn't want to get it. Back to Bum Bum Tours to see whether my mama has
replied. I need to be able to contact the crew back home, so as I can
sort out accommodation when I return. Bit of a semi homeless problem in
London that needs to be sorted. I also need to inform people that I'm
alright. So many people had the fear of me coming over here. I knew
Merida would be perfectly safe, but it still didn't stop my new
nickname being 'Dead Man Walking'. Nobody had replied.

Well the remote control facility on my newly acquired camera works like
a dream - cheezer me up with dub big time.

The 5 o'clock meeting went like a dream. Quite funny actually. Whilst I
was waiting, I thought I'd do myself up a quick rolly at Plaza Bolivar
(main square). Next thing you know I'm approached by about six shoe
cleaners &; general riff raff, amazed at the sight of me rolling
baccy. I said they were all more than welcome to one, but none of the
fuckers knew how to roll. They all definitely knew how to snort, as
they all sported the obligatory long fingernail. I rolled up six snouts
consecutively for the drooling spectators, which turned into a bit of a
shower of tobacco due to my lack of phlegm problem, (my low sugar count
promotes a dry mouth). Whilst doing my best to collect saliva, I
thought I'd give the crowd a little light Spiritualised whilst they
waited. We all agreed that they are shit hot &; would be even better
a tad inebriated. Each one pretended he was out of his head after first
inhalation &; after about fifteen minutes they all floated away.
When I found Horace &; Jorge half an hour late (time doesn't really
matter here - you say 5 - it could mean anytime 3 hours after that
hour), Horace was kissing some rough birds hand. She happens to be
English &; lives in London. 'Which part?' I enquire, informing her I
was a Bethnal man. 'Oh, well my parents live in St. Albans &; I live
in Oxford.' She wants to meet tomorrow to go up the Telefrico. Definite
blow out. Anyway, Horace was pissed, so Jorge sent him away to buy some
incense, whilst we did the deed. Continually bumping into Jorge's
brother on the way. Crazy. Position thumb in the middle of a curled
index finger, slightly slanted - a pile poured there, snort, then
suddenly your head feels 10ft higher &; you're grinning like a
buffoon. The deal was done in a square that I remember dancing to salsa
in last year &; we returned with a nice rock. FP daddio. Deal was
done &; I've arranged to meet the boys tomorrow. Jorge promised an
evening of piping it to the max. I'm unsure whether to go for it, as
we'll have to chill round his pad. He seems very trustworthy &; has
given me lots of good advice &; conversation, but we'll see how I
feel tomorrow.

Nice deal, half the width &; half the length of your average stick
of lip balm for ?6.

A very interesting pairing are Jorge &; Horace. Both nearly 50.
Horace seems pissed all the time, but is very amusing. Before he was
sent away, I allowed him to listen to my walkman. The man did a
Jagger/Bowie on me &; danced the length of Avenida 4. Whereas Jorge
seems an educated man. He speaks good English, loves progressive rock
&; is also a qualified electronic engineer. He claims he sorted out
the fountains on Bolivar Square. No mean feat really.

Horace is about 5ft tall, with a greasy, lank, dark mop on his head. He
houses a continual booze driven grin &; his English is as poor as my
Spanish, but somehow I manage to catch what he gibbers about. Jorge
looks like a burnt out casualty from the 60's &; looks more like Ian
Anderson of Jethro Tull fame, than a Venezuelan. His English is
excellent &; he's a very interesting man. He told me to live life as
if it were a game.

I was gonna save the coke for a sunny day, but as I'd had a couple of
chats already I decided to tuck in. Raining again, problem is, I'm on
the ground floor &; the rain over here is very, very hard. Thus
making sleep an impossibility in rainy season, due to the hard thuds on
the floor. Obviously this will make sleep more of an impossibility but
hey, I'm on holiday &; there is a Playboy channel.