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Snore watch

I wonder how long it will take before I can hear a British police car siren without me automatically starting to hum the theme from The Bill?

It is absolutely stunningly beautiful in Edinburgh. And it’s even more beautiful at 6AM. We had the privilege of seeing it so early because of the Snotty Fuckwit in the bunk bed across our hostel room. He was oh so very polite and sweet in daylight, but when night he morphed into an evil flu-ridden snoring machine. It sounded like he was boiling a huge vat of snot in his nostrils, and another vat of putrid phlegm in his throat.

His girlfriend was wide awake in the bunk below, but did she once wake him to shut up? No! And that was her duty as his travelling companion to be on Snore Watch.

So we finally gave up and went for a walk down near the castle, plotting their demise.

The hunt for employment and shelter continues. Will keep you posted. Oh, I love the accents. And the kilts. How I love the kilts. Rowrrr.

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About Shauna Reid

Ahoy there! I’m an author, copywriter and old school blogger. I love telling stories about life and helping my clients to tell theirs. Find out more about me and how we can work together.


35 thoughts on “Snore watch

  1. Excellent. The two-level streets are something, aren’t they?

    Where is your hostel, and was it hard getting room there? When I arrived (on a Friday night, mind you, though in November) all the hostels were full, and I had to stay at a B&B in Newington (the Four Seasons in Minto Rd.; a not-too-long walk from the Old Town).

  2. the last time i travelled while I had the flu my ex through an ugh boot at my head at 5am. Apparently I was snoring (pfft I don’t snore damnit!). It effectively wakes you up and doesn’t hurt too much. Did you take ugh boots with you? I can send you a pair πŸ˜›

  3. The Royal Mile is just the coolest street on earth, isn’t it? I’m an ex-pat Aussie who has spent my fair share of time in Edinburgh. I now live in London (4 and a half years) so if you manage to head south and want a guided pub crawl, please email me and I’ll give you my contact details. Have fun! Oh, and make sure you go on one of those walking tours that takes you under the Edinburgh streets; they’re scary as hell but heaps of fun!

  4. Good job searching, ye. Be thankful that you’re not sleeping upright on a chair in a hostel, though, like I had to once: ech.

  5. Oh goodness, that was some descriptive writing there. That mention of snot reminds me of something in SLOU last night, will email you.

  6. omg, the Four Seasons in Minto Rd gave me the worst case of food poisoning I’ve ever had! No one ever, ever go there. I missed a week in Scotland for those buggers.

    …mmm… kilts….

  7. Welcome to Britain, dearie! Now if only we can persuade these English to go home and leave Britain to the British πŸ™‚

  8. The sounds of hostels? Zippers and plastic bags. Catching a 5am train, trying to be quiet, then – zoop! zoop! zoop! crinkle, crinkle – zoop! zoop! zoop!

  9. There are contraptions available which can be affixed to the nose. Resembling a hospital breathing unit, this device’s purpose is to curtail snoring and allow a growling bear to breathe as casually as that avuncular cunt Rummy does in the Pentagon. I understand that the device does not eradicate all cases of SARS and influenza, but for the light sleeper trying to doze next to you, it can diminish the volume of Stage 1, 2 and 3 to Defcon 4. (Orange Alert, if you’re into meaningless chromatic warnings.)

    For those trying to stop beasts on a budget, if you are rolling in the hay sans partner or silence, then there is the ever-helpful C47. The C47, known more conventionally as a clothespin, will troubleshoot even the runniest of nasal passages. It can be applied quicker than the above-mentioned contraption. Expand the pinchers, pay special heed to the woody squeak, and cut the airflow off at the source. And the C47 has the added bonus of inflicting casual pain and creating tiny indentations along the nose, so that the precarious snorer will have a visual reminder of his crime in the morning.

  10. So…much…jealousy. I love Edinburgh, such a beautiful city. And don’t worry about the shiny shoes, most Scotsmen seem to need little encouragement to show you what’s under their kilt. If all else fails, getting them to run always gets kilt flying up.

  11. Oh my god! I missed her — she’s gone! I get behind on my WNP for a few days and now I’ll never have a chance to tell —

    Oh. Still posting. Edinburgh, right. Of course.

    You know, this Internet thing still kinda messes with my mind…

  12. Snoring in youth hostels. Urgh.

    In Tasmania I was once rudely awakened by a demented, permanently drunk scotsman who only interacted with other people through the medium of his Tasmanian Devil hand puppet.

    True.

    He had paranoiac, deluded rambilngs through the night, then got up at 3 am, packed and left – SLAMMING the dorm door.

    Ahem.

    Sure you’re meeting a better class of scotsman. Remember to play nice. πŸ˜‰

  13. You should feel encouraged by the fact that there are academic papers proving scientifically that Scotsmen have a thing for redheads.
    Happy kilt-chasing!

  14. Get yourselves along to one of the many branches of Boots the Chemist in Edinburgh and buy some Muffles Wax earplugs. Ask for them by name. They are fabulous for keeping out unwanted idiotic noise.

  15. just discovered your site—wow, so many people do time in Frankfurt and Edinburgh. If you liked the Modern art Gallery in Frankfurt, wait till you check out the ones in the Burgh, head out to the Contemporary and the one across the road, you can walk no problem from Newtown, specially now the weather is fining up. Also go up the hill, tis meant to be amazing…I was always too lazy. Youll love Edinburgh, it is a great place to start an overseas stint…great haven to go back to aswell when you get low on funds, always a job to get in a temp agency.
    Keep up the writing, tis making me all nostalgic.

  16. ESPECIALLY YOU DOUG. THIS PERMANENTLY DRUNK, SUPPOSEDLY DEMENTED SCOTSMAN IS GONNA FUCKIN KICK YOUR ASS! YOU ARE DEAD, YOU CAN TRUST ME ON THAT. THE REASON I LEFT AND SLAMMED THE DOOR WAS BECAUSE I WAS SICK AND TIRED OF YOU CRACKING ON TO ME ALL NIGHT YOU GAY BOY. AND THE PARANOIAC, DELUDED RAMBLINGS WAS ME TRYING TO TALK MYSELF OUT OF KILLING YOU. BUT NOW I’M USING THE INTERNET AS MY MEDIUM AND YOU ARE A DEAD MAN!

  17. Bloody hell… you’re living in the UK. Why wasn’t I warned by immigration or something?! Hello old friend – hope all is very well for you here in our beautiful country xx

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