Tiiiiiiired. I now understand why, traditionally, one only goes out two nights in a row. But it's been worth it for the full Trondheim weekend experience. Thursday night was dedicated to brothel-esque sofas and red lighting effects in Supa. Friday night was Storås and possibly the best night of dancing I've ever had - quite a lot of the old standby where everyone dances in a circle and takes turns to go into the middle and do something exciting, but with none of the awkwardness that usually accompanies this. Also unselfconscious air guitars, unselfconscious swing dancing with friends and strangers, and unselfconscious shouting of lyrics (primarily to "Should I Stay Or Should I Go", "Hold The Line" and "Fit But You Know It"; the lyrics to the latter are apparently stored deep in my limbic system). Then yesterday we went to Samfundet, but I was pretty sleepy by midnight and went home at half-past one. The most notable event was two guys insisting that I was Silje from Pop Idol, which googling confirms was a mere ploy, as I look nothing like her. I think it would have been a more effective ploy if I had been more awake, because as it was I just went "what. Whaaaaaat? ...Excuse me" rather than playing along and maybe singing something.
Trondheim has been lovely for the past couple of weeks; I hardly want to leave. But I'm spending the weekend in Cambridge eating Italian ice cream with Becky and Vicky on Castle Hill, so that will be okay too. And on my VERY NEXT day off I'm going to York (which will take 3.5 hours by train, but whatever) to look around and plan the future.
Future plans on a micro-scale: library, coffee.
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