Fedor-Tso

0530 - Fedor-tso

There's a cold wind blowing, the sun's waking up and all The Rocket says is, "F***". This is, without doubt one of the coldest, smelliest mornings I have ever been witness to. The Rocket is as cold as can be and has without thought, zipped himself up in Cramster riding gear - we're by a lake!! And, yeah, he's scarring the living daylights out of the low-lives with the balaclava he has on. Interesting!

Great! Last tenner spent on 2 cups of tea and 4 chaklis. Thankfully we have enough fuel. The Rocket has now begun speaking Arabic. That's an improvement considering "Arabic" is a word he cannot spell. The things a stinky morning does to some!

The sun's finally up. Rocket's on a photography spree. He has also discovered a key tucked away inside the jacket he's adorned. Somehow this intrigues him. I'm not entirely sure if it's the sun or the key. Either way.

0600 - Fedor-tso -

Time to leave, go back to the pitiful lives we lead. Sigh - the days of our lives!