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So after the shenanigans of the previous evening we arose from bed at the perfectly reasonable hour of two in the afternoon. Feeling refreshed (if a little worse for wear) three intrepid explorers departed the apartment for adventures as yet unknown.

We went to the pub.

Actually I think there was perhaps some sort of lunchtime meetup somewhere in there but being both jetlagged and murderously hungover my faculties were not at their best; there was a big EUFA game on that night so Matt, Heather and I headed to the nicest most inexpensive watering hole we could find. The local Weatherspoon’s (The Standing Order) did not disappoint. We ate drank and became particularly merry, later meeting up with other wedding revellers for continued merriment.

As the night wore on and the bell rang for last call many in our party called it a night with the wedding looming the next day. Some might call these people wise. Needless to say I did not head home at this point, instead roving the streets of Edinburgh with Matt, Heather, and now the aforementioned Janet in tow. Upon being told nearly everywhere was closing we politely inquired as to the closest local drinking hole still serving. "Karma” a door lady told us, “but whatever you do don’t go there.”

I should hope at this point it is obvious that we visited Karma.

En route, however, we met a policeman – who almost missed an emergency call because he discovered we were Canadian and wanted to chat about the Vancouver Canucks – and later parted ways with, an at this point infuriated, Janet who had lost her gay – for whom we had traipsed halfway across Edinburgh only to discover he was at the other end and had given us bum, as it were, directions.

Upon arrival at Karma we paid a very reasonable cover and descended some dodgy stairs into what can only be described as the tackiest club in Britain (keeping in mind that I’ve imbibed at The Masquerade in Liverpool). While at Karma we purchased some ludicrously inexpensive drinks, were escorted from the dance floor after hauling said drinks with us to shake our tail feathers, and witnessed no less than two fights unfold. It was fabulous.

We later emerged from the club bleary-eyed and ready for food but upon standing in line at a nearby taxi rank and chatting with some locals we were dismayed to discover that everything in the immediate vicinity had closed for the night. This man spoke with true authority having just returned from a closing kebab shop with a carrier bag full of styrofoam containers. Being an all-round good egg he actually offered us a container full of chips. We couldn’t take food from a stranger could we? Actually we politely declined his offer until he placed the container on the ground and said so strong was his desire to be gentlemanly that he would leave the chips if we didn’t consume them; although Matt still had reservations. Cut to me and Heather scarfing a box of chips as our cab happily whizzed us back to our now familiar accommodation.

We quickly ended up back at the ScotMid and later eating a cornucopia of pre-packed food from the floor of our rented apartment as the new morning sun began to flood the room indicating it was once again time for sleep.