A night out storytelling.

This happened to me yesterday, I just thought it was a funny story so I thought I would present it here. Hope you like it.
As a lot of people that know me know that I am am member of the storytelling society at Derby. It is about roughly every two weeks that an event is put on by the Flying Donkeys, a storytelling group that resides in Derby. So off we went, my friend and I to this event at the Hallmark Hotel for a night of intent listening pleasure (we were only an hour late *Ed lifts up his eyes and tuts in a 'what are we like' manner*)
So we listened to about three or four stories, my friend presenting the beginning of the epic of Gilgamesh...ah that mischievious Enkidu.
So afterwards we walk to the friends residence where I stay until about 12 at night when I decide that I should go because of my workshopping lectures that start at 9am the next. So I leave, turn right towards my house. While I walk I think about tommorrow morning, about what I will need to bring in, I reach in my bag to take out a book that I had encased in it and low and behold... don't even have my bag. My next thought leads me to the conclusion that I had left it at the hotel as I had put it down as I was listening to the stories. What else could I do? All my books that I need for lectures are in there, I had to travel all the way through town, past all the drunken people that were partying that night, walk for miles until I got to the hotel. This journey was not as easy as it sounded; I took too many wrong turns, through some areas that I have never been too before, having to ask a drunk fellah for directions (he was standing so close to me I could smell his fag breath with every word.) When I got to the hotel the doors were locked, but luckily was let in, then I had to describe my bag, they got it from some store room, I thanked the fellah who had a kind face and walked for ages until I got home at about 2: 30 in the morning. Not much of an early night...and I was frickin nackered.
Over and out.

Blatent title to declare that this is the first blog.

Well I don't really know what I should write for the very first one of these things. I shall begin with what happened to me today, but I shall refer back to the day before today just because that's the way I do things yo.
Well I shall begin by saying that today is the beginning of the second term of my uni course as a Creative Writing student at Derby uni, the best darn uni in the country if I do say so myself. But now that I have overexplained that and probably misspelled 'overexplained' I shall begin my tale that may be too long...
Well Yesterday was the day that I came back to Derby after five or so weeks away. The holidays were good. I was stuffed by the end of it (by this I mean I was stuffed by eating too much food, I wasn't literally stuffed like a turkey...or was I? No you weren't Ed, stop talking rubbish...I hope you enjoyed that pre- planned joke by the way).
But anyway I packed and left for the national express bus, which I narrowly missed, finally getting into Derby for about 3. 30pm.
That is it really. I took a taxi this time to my house (as I remember that last time I walk all the way from the city centre to the house, carrying all my bags, causing me to ache the next day), made some food, read, went on Facebook and unpacked, then went to sleep at 12.00am because I had my first workshop the next day at 9am...quite the early hour, a fact that my fellow uni ladies and gentlemen will agree with.
Next day I went to that workshop with the rest of the creative lot, went to town to look at stuff but not buy anything, then ate some food for the first time in ages and now I am here. Bla bla bla, Ed stop writing because this post is too long.