TRAINSPOTTING
As the summer of 1973 approached, Pud (one of the Roan boys, the only one who didn’t want to get into my pants) and I decided to pool our contacts for an inter-rail jouney through Europe. Between us we knew enough people in Europe to keep our accommodation costs to a minimum, and in between would stay in youth hostels. We kicked off in Paris, where we stayed with my penpal’s family in Vincennes. They took us out to dinner the night before we set off for Geneva on the night train. Probably a combination of wine and too much rich food, but during the night I started to feel shivery. Pud kept complaining how hot it was and taking off layers of clothing, which I promptly put on. By the time we arrived at Geneva I was feeling really bad and was as white as a sheet. We staggered down the platform and into the station looking for a toilet. I never made it, but at the top of the steps did a projectile vomit that pebbledashed the whole grand stai...