Look who I bumped into over the weekend!

That's right, Wraclaw (pronounced Vrrrotswav) didn't know what had hit it. The hills were alive with Mancunian cries! I bet we looked good on the dance floor! Etc, etc.....

After an obligatory cultural visit to the Panorama Raclawicka we decided to, uh, sample the other culture, that being the food and drink.

We started the evening with a meal in a sombre candle-lit German basement restaurant, complete with Boar skin (and hoofs), Animal head and cleaver adorning the walls, which ended with the waiter selling us a 70% vodka, the taste of which will surely remain with me until my old age, and which I think took half of my throat with it on it's journey into my stomach. We then headed across the square to an Irish bar to carry on the merriment....and to sober up (just a little bit). After that, well, it's all a bit hazy. More drinking, talking nonsense, pop quizzes with no resolved answers, Wedding Present songs, etc. Needless to say that the evening ended with a good old knees-up in the nightclub called Bar 51 (or Bar 54?) and an inexplicably long walk back to the hostel. I'll let you look at the evidence.... unfortunately all my sightseeing photos mysteriously erased themselves from my camera....and all I'm left with are these, of drunken people.