Well after the first day, it seems almost mandatory that I write something at least, given the fact that throughout the day I’ve been asked “You’re working on a bank holiday, why?” just to overlook said fact really.

In fact this morning started out rather slowly, after the night before when I arrived late, and had spent about 20 minutes on the famous (apparently) roof garden of the Hotel Urban, and crying over the fact that a small bottle of beer cost 9 euros.

I started out not wanting to wake up, business as usual you might agree, but it was only the fact that the alarm sounded different and the fact that the room looked different that I realised I wasn’t in Kansas any more.

I could into more detail of the stages of man that is the morning routine of fumbling about in the dark, but I’ll leave it there.

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