We kept it simple on Day Seven and stuck hard and fast to our routine of sitting about. After some semi-successful passing in the morning we went to Tom’s Algorithm March workshop which managed to be under-attended yet utterly hilarious.
The German restaurant the night before was really nice. So we decided to go back there. With different people. The fat cow of a waitress was rude to me (apparently) when I asked her for a cola-bier. Wie alt bist du? indeed. Bitch. She looked suitably confused/repentant afterwards though, faced as she was by a table of incredulous foreigners.
Pete and I tried to get back to site with Mini and Emily but instead opted for a magical, thrill-packed sight-seeing tour of the opposite end of Karlsruhe when we got on the wrong tram. We saw a big Siemens factory place. And the tram-driver locking himself in a hut, possibly for a poo. It was terribly exciting in a sort of sitting around waiting for the tram to move sort of way. When we did finally manage to get back I went and did a bit of juggling on my own for an hour or so. And read my book for a bit. And that was about it for the day, really.
I heard tell, later on, that both the Friday shows had been significantly better than the one I’d seen. Which left me pleased and intensely irritated in equal measure. Other than Alby, however, people did still seem to agree that it was a bit of a crappy show, all in all.
We stuck our heads round the renegade tent for a bit of a looksee later. I stayed for two terrible acts and narrowly (and mercifully) missed seeing a drunken Irishman’s willy before getting the hell out. And then it was back to the routine, making Jules laugh with talk of licking the Dietz and then a quick bit of letching before bedtime.
We got back to the tent to discover that some dirty European piece of shit had nicked half our tent pegs, thereby rendering the tent fucking useless. It had been raining during the evening. Raining onto the outer. Which had collapsed inwards onto the inner. Letting the rain into our sleeping compartment. And all over our clothes. And bedding. And other posessions. We were proper flooded out. Luckily, Alan had already opted to spend the night in a hotel (with a prostitute) so we used his sleeping bit for the night. But that only meant we had to sleep closer to the French contingent. Oh, and we could still hear the Americans. Gah!
A significantly crappier end to the day than I would have opted for.