Last Saturday, a gaggle of friends and I were on our way back from Edinburgh with a trainload of drunk rugby fiends. The inebriated despair made itself known in drunken moans and heads hung sadly over Echo Falls Rosé. The North American Scum that we are (double points if you get that reference), none of us really cared about the rugby as much as we did for escaping the bubble for a few precious hours to go shopping and lollygag with a bunch of strangers instead of the two hundred people that knew every sliver of our lives. Exhausted by all the city excitement, I face planted on the little dining table in our train cubby. I woke in Lochgelly to the screeches of a strangely discordant London accent.
1. Plastic sheeting, and more plastic sheeting. It covers a multitude of sins – you never know what bodily or alcoholic fluids will seep into your carpet otherwise. Saves a lot of stress at the end of the year when the landlord comes round to inspect.