Finally the Oil Pumper

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So I manage to get more time in the Old town before heading down to the oil pumper - basically the ferry is a floating disco and all of the single people in stockholm and all of the single people in stockholm get on hoping to strike oil somewhere on the overnight journey. The last time I took this you could see the disaster potential and this time would be no different. I made my way down to the bowels of the boat to find my extremely cramped home for the night. As you can imgine I was not popular for bringing around 100 litres of kit into a room designed for 20 litres of lithe swedish athletes and as I had spoilt the chances of the three other chaps to find somebody special I bolted for the door at the first opportunity. My sleepmates for the evening were Mika who was a pleasant Finn, a guy who looked distinctly illegal for any part of europe let alone Helsinki and my first russian who looked as if he ate radiation for breakfast and had pure vodka in his veins! I made it up onto the sun deck for a few hours and watched the amazing swedish landscape roll by the ferry. Downstairs the blaring of Money Money Money (the swedish national anthem) signalled that the hunt had begun. There was the full spectrum of karaoke - gambling cabaret - everything a 55 year old man lookinf for an 85 year old woman could ever want. So after avoiding the temptation to take to the stage and let rip I retired to the harmonic echoes of synchronised snoring and maybe fifteen minutes of sleep!

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