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floor is one of the best ways to collect and sometimes bizarre stories incredible. If anyone believes that their life is boring or do not have a laugh with her friends advise you to go to a big city and gets to see the stories you can find cheaper. My first contact with the subject were in Madrid, where I will always remember that strange old woman who tried to convince me that a gas camping was a kitchen and a sofa and a bed pad (all in one "floor", which also were about 80,000 of the old pesetas per month). Sometimes I think the trick is to see many floors filthy, not because sooner or later find an incredible, but because after 100 or 150 we haveMPRE you're not rich and can rent a room in Buckingham to the Queen is looking for a room in a shared apartment. At first it was what I was looking for, the problem is I do not know most of the areas and see the offers did not know where to shoot. The best of all I saw said something like, "Flat share in Oxford Circus (the equivalent of living in decibels) with all amenities. Share with 3 girls, 2 Australian and New Zealand. We want a guy to make up the balance (this is the best). We are fun and outgoing people like us. 100 pounds a week (although I seem expensive it is actually shot). Write to Kate, Samantha and Jo in the following emails. " Haha, what a good joke. I wrote just in case. No responsesta (but worth a try). I saw some stories, not many. I would say it was a real shit, pig pens, give statistics on the number of cockroaches and all that, but the truth is that were not bad. The problem is that almost everyone had one or two characteristics that made them undesirable, or were too expensive or too far left or were in an area that did not convince me, or lived too many people or roommates looked like extras City God, or the room was very small, and so on., etc. What amused me was the commercial attitude of landlords who taught me the rooms. There was one that taught me a room with some furniture and a bathroom smelly disastrous in a horrible building and told me he had just put a loosewood or expensive it was fucking great and I would hurry to the room was going to fly out of hand. The worst thing is that I with these people all you do is nod like an idiot, shake hands, tell me what they think and call you soon.

one day (so to speak, there are no good days as time is concerned) and Alfonso Muriel, a couple of English friends who are living here called me and said they had found an apartment with other people , which was very good value, location and condition, they were going to rent and room left over. I silenced my conscience and I was skeptical at him with great enthusiasm. The floor was not bad, but had to fix some things, it was really cheap and it wasin Crouch End, which is where Rob lived the high fidelity, which greatly adds value scale in my particular area. So we decided to take him between them, two English girls (to practice English!) And me. Well, as expected, since I decided not been a single day without a problem occurs. For starters, the home, which is actually an employee of a kind of agency, is ridiculously edge and even seemed that molestábamos trying to rent the apartment. We asked a lot of personal references. Is that here in England, much work on the basis of references. References are letters (can be written in handwriting) that say you are a gentleman (seriously, I have one of the lady of the family that calls me gentleman, is surrealist), who has worked in nosedonde, etc. I guess the fact that someone can rely on something like that in Spain would be Descojonado everyone in the act, but here's how things work. After what happened references about everything. It delayed the date of signing 4 times, we do not they agreed with the rooms, we had to fight to the landlord fix certain things (which has only partially fixed), one of the British pulled back the day before ... I saw the hand of God, the bastard, after all. Although I was already convinced that, in the end everything worked out and we ended up half our signature on a lease. By the way, nobody would think this story is signing PrehIstor? Is it really worth for something to write a squiggle somewhere? If so, the truth is that it is something that is pretty scary if you think in the era of computers, internet, laser depilation and carols ringtones with the most important means of identification used is a movement and outlining something semiparkinsoniano inenteligible on a piece of paper ... Curious, but we do not stray from the subject. We are now living on the floor, and Alfonso Muriel (Muri is gone in two days, sniff), Natasha, an English girl who is very nice, Rocio, a Mexican girl who found by chance and me. We are all grown up and responsible so do not think there is any trouble between us. The pity is that the floor does not have room (the lounge is one of the Habitaciótions, so it comes as cheap) and has only one bathroom, with both parties as the visits are limited (although I suppose there will eventually be everywhere holidays and visits.)

On the other hand, I left school. It was too expensive for what little they learned. I had put in the more advanced level, but between the teacher and I did not like my balance sheet was starting to worry me (but scary), I decided to quit. I can study English at home, plus now I have enough friends who speak English and to practice frequently. These days I'm finishing up my resume and will soon start to look for work (after which I'm sure it will drop another chapter in this diary because I spend absurd as always). U

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cally switch to another line, making 11 stops to Victoria Station and then take an express train that would take me to the airport. Of course when that Sunday was happy (actually it was Saturday) to take the metro is that the line was out of service, although there were replacement buses doing the same route. This is quite common in London (as they lay not so much REPLACING buses). I caught the first bus that came. After an entire family of nonsense. To begin the bus drivers had to be new, or dyslexic, or an outsourced consultant, because the first long street that was, that branched off to the right end dropped something like "shit, is not around here." The truth is that now as I write is funny, in fact when he saidpo, but should get, so I remained stoic on my site. Between the second and the third stop seems there was a fire or something, and we had to stay away from the street while fire trucks passed. I do not think I could finish, but between this and the traffic jams caused by the absence of meters were late as 20-25 minutes per stop. Buser did not help that the addition of subnormal turns out it was a funny and at every stop is pulled a little time talking with other employees joking about how little we knew the route and the times he nearly lost. I tried to go flipping through my mental breakdown as he read the next one: it was a kind of text on techniques for actors, speaking in a very serious tone about how bows lRobert de Niro as eyebrows or smiling Jane Fonda ambiguous. I did not get focus (and quickly read it and I went from page), and came to the conclusion that if I stayed on that bus in addition to losing the plane would lose control, so at the next stop and I got out looking for a taxi. Was far from Victoria, so as fast as I could do was take a taxi to the airport. I went to a Black Cab (the classic black cab), which is the first in the list of things not to do in London if you want your money lasts longer than five minutes, but had no time. He wondered how soon to Gatwick, I said an hour, came into my room, ok. Then, not without fear, I asked the price. He said a lot to mecaused an instant nausea. When she saw my face of pure terror I lowered 20 pounds, but still was somewhat exorbitant. An indescribable sensation of pain I got in the taxi. Of course in 10 minutes we were in an endless traffic jam, and when we saw a scary sign that said that Gatwick was still about 35 miles.

20 minutes I arrived at the airport before he left the plane, I ran like an idiot throughout the terminal and came to the offices of shipping. It is my companion, who also had a particular adventure, he arrived at the same time. We told the nice lady that we were late and if we could board. He scored a phone number but did not answer, so he told us that the flight was already closed and was impossible. At that moment I felt all the negative adjectives in the dictionary beginning with stupid and I got the distinct impression that God existed and was also an asshole. However, the girl told us we could put on another flight, 4 hours later. Sigh of relief (relative, because what I paid for a taxi not ever heal), hugging, jumping for joy. God (or whoever) bless easyJet.

I hope that what has happened to me and the story in question, besides making me laugh and you'll have a good time, serve as a reflection on public transport in London and that everyone who is going to do something like it has very into account.

What how is Edinburgh? It is a city to see when we got off the bus weled the airport to downtown, look where we looked at was full of castles, monuments and impressive buildings. In addition it was night and everything was beautifully illuminated. Almost the whole city is beautiful and the people are friendly and not too large (it makes a difference when you come from London). A city that is worth ... and I tell you that my "punishment" is, um, considerable.