Funfare for the Common Man

The tragic tale of a shattered coffee cup. Or, how Ivan and I quarrelled (with apologies to Tolstoy**) and how he got revenge Part One January 2006, Lviv, Smashna Plitka. At the time one of my favourite cafés. My sister was visiting and the two of us were joined by Lesya, the Ukrainian girl I was going out with at the time. She was lovely enough, but right from the get-go, there was something about her my sister didn’t quite like. The two of them didn’t get on naturally and I could tell there was going to be a little tête-à-tête of some sort. One of the things I loved about this café was the coffee cups, resplendent in their shimmering white, with French verses written around the side in a soft blue. I’m not sure what was so special about them, but right then and there I decided that I wanted to take one home with me. So my sister duly obliged with my request and attempted to procure one from the waitress. I was going to ask for it myself, but I was cut off before making an offer...

I probably should have made one thing [more] crystal-clear in my previous post: I didn’t and don’t want this blog to become a ditty on finance and the stock markets. I was merely laying the groundwork and giving a bit of background into how I started blogging and how a series of fortuitous circumstances sent me back on the road to continue my quest for never-ending adventure. I don’t intend to continue with a theme as turgid as investing – there are way too many other outlets for that, and like I alluded to, I’m completely under-qualified. That said, the reviews on the first post were mixed: there were a couple of you who wanted more of the stock market chat, but others who said, ‘enough of that, where are the tales of drunken buffoonery?’ Well, never one to disappoint, let’s talk a bit about drunken buffoonery. 1 September 2002: an absinthe binge in Prague, a mess at the hostel, irate looks from people, a waylaid journal, a 3-day hangover, an attempted mugging by 4 teenage yout...