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Thursday 1st May 2003

I started packing for my trip home on Saturday.
I brought far too much with me and it¡¦s interesting to see the things that I brought that I didn¡¦t use and should have left at home.
Mainly I overestimated the number of pairs of shoes I would require for my trip. Really two pairs should have sufficed. I decided I needed five (including running shoes). My boots have been squeaking (but luckily only when I¡¦ve been wearing them, or I would have checked for mouse squatters). I will probably leave them here. It seems unlikely that they will never walk on English soil again (unless they get found by a tramp who is unlucky enough to get deported). And I didn¡¦t even give those boots a chance to say goodbye to the country that they had spent their whole life in. I feel bad.
But fuck them.
Those boots weren¡¦t made for packing.
The squeaky boot doesn¡¦t only not get the grease. It gets left in Australia.

Wait a minute. I begin to wonder if those boots have been pretending to squeak on purpose in order to get to stay out here. They would rather be on the stinking feet of a tramp than have to return to our useless country. The sneaky footwear.
Well I won¡¦t let them get away with it.
I¡¦m going to wear them on the plane back and then give them to a British tramp. Ha ha, that will teach that ungrateful pair of cunts.

(I apologise for the gratuitous swearing. But as gratuitous swearing goes I found it extremely amusing)

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