Hannah and I decided to start two new blogs after 23rd of June - just to keep everyone up to date. This is what Hannah posted the day after 23rd of June:
Sup Fisker,
First day of the blog. Won't have time to put this on tonight, so I'm drafting this on the coach home from Heathrow and plan to put it up as soon as I can.
Today, Calvin and I got up at silly o' clock so we could head up to the airport with the remaining Fisker- Ida, Ilyas, Peter, Reb, Lilly and Carro (excluding Sofie who left earlier this morning). Having missed our boat, we had to sprint to the coach and thankfully made it just in time. Satisfied (but out of breath), we stepped onto the coach to see Reb's smiling face poking round the door, followed by a waving Carro- little had we known, we were on the same coach as the Swedes! FUCK YES. We settled down next to Carro and Reb, and prepared ourselves for a three-hour journey and a stressful day ahead of us.
We arrived at Heathrow around 11am and bumped into a bitch named Angie from the staff at EF who wouldn't let the Swedes out of her sight (health and safety and shit). Irritated, we set off in search of food. We ate our Boots meal deals on the floor outside the restaurant we'd promised Fag Angie we'd be in (in the wise words of Calvin, 'never trust a woman with the name Angie'). At 1pm, Reb and Carro had to go through security to get ready to board their flight. It was awfully sad. We said our prolonged goodbyes, and the Swedes were out of sight.
Calvin and I had two and a half hours to kill, so we found some moderately comfy seats and waited for the Germans and Norwegians (minus Sofie) to arrive. At 3pm, half an hour earlier than expected, Ida, Ilyas, Peter and Lilly arrived and we spent the next 2 hours talking and chilling. Bumped into Faggy Angie again and the guys got signed in. We said our goodbyes to Peter, Lilly and Ilyas, and watched the three of them walk off to their flights. It was, of course, really fucking upsetting to watch them leave our lives one by one.
The tears began to build, and our 20 minute goodbye to Ida certainly made this revolting day live up to its expectations.
Calvin and I left for the coach, puffy-eyed and morose, clutching to one another and Ida's scarf for comfort. We went on a little adventure on a fancy underground train and to the central bus station miles away. Three-hour journey back to Portsmouth. We had 45 minutes until the boat, so we decided to go get some dinner at the chippy across the road. It was a bit crap, and Calvin had to eat meat, but it filled a hole and we had a beautiful view of the Spinnakar Tower and the HMS Victory in the sunset.
On arrival in Ryde, we noticed that the island already felt fucking empty. Said our much-more-temporary goodbyes, and wished each other luck in feeling better in the next few days.
June 23rd, you bastard.
Sup Fisker,
First day of the blog. Won't have time to put this on tonight, so I'm drafting this on the coach home from Heathrow and plan to put it up as soon as I can.
Today, Calvin and I got up at silly o' clock so we could head up to the airport with the remaining Fisker- Ida, Ilyas, Peter, Reb, Lilly and Carro (excluding Sofie who left earlier this morning). Having missed our boat, we had to sprint to the coach and thankfully made it just in time. Satisfied (but out of breath), we stepped onto the coach to see Reb's smiling face poking round the door, followed by a waving Carro- little had we known, we were on the same coach as the Swedes! FUCK YES. We settled down next to Carro and Reb, and prepared ourselves for a three-hour journey and a stressful day ahead of us.
We arrived at Heathrow around 11am and bumped into a bitch named Angie from the staff at EF who wouldn't let the Swedes out of her sight (health and safety and shit). Irritated, we set off in search of food. We ate our Boots meal deals on the floor outside the restaurant we'd promised Fag Angie we'd be in (in the wise words of Calvin, 'never trust a woman with the name Angie'). At 1pm, Reb and Carro had to go through security to get ready to board their flight. It was awfully sad. We said our prolonged goodbyes, and the Swedes were out of sight.
Calvin and I had two and a half hours to kill, so we found some moderately comfy seats and waited for the Germans and Norwegians (minus Sofie) to arrive. At 3pm, half an hour earlier than expected, Ida, Ilyas, Peter and Lilly arrived and we spent the next 2 hours talking and chilling. Bumped into Faggy Angie again and the guys got signed in. We said our goodbyes to Peter, Lilly and Ilyas, and watched the three of them walk off to their flights. It was, of course, really fucking upsetting to watch them leave our lives one by one.
The tears began to build, and our 20 minute goodbye to Ida certainly made this revolting day live up to its expectations.
Calvin and I left for the coach, puffy-eyed and morose, clutching to one another and Ida's scarf for comfort. We went on a little adventure on a fancy underground train and to the central bus station miles away. Three-hour journey back to Portsmouth. We had 45 minutes until the boat, so we decided to go get some dinner at the chippy across the road. It was a bit crap, and Calvin had to eat meat, but it filled a hole and we had a beautiful view of the Spinnakar Tower and the HMS Victory in the sunset.
On arrival in Ryde, we noticed that the island already felt fucking empty. Said our much-more-temporary goodbyes, and wished each other luck in feeling better in the next few days.
June 23rd, you bastard.
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