A good friend of mine blogs over at Style from the Suburban Intellect and I recently re-discovered an old blog of hers on the ‘Walk of Shame’. In it she writes about the fact that this so-called ‘shameful’ journey home is really nothing of the sort and I tend to agree.
- Walking home in a borrowed t-shirt after a night out in Prague where I ended up in a different bed, in a different hostel, in a different part of the city to where I was actually staying…
- Jumping the Metro barriers in Barcelona and falling asleep on the shoulder of one of my best friends on the 6:00am train back to our hostel.
- After one of the best dates in my whole life with a boy in Berlin – we explored the city together all night; eating dinner in Kreuzberg, drinking cocktails in Mitte, wandering Alexander Platz and dancing at underground warehouse clubs in East Berlin before retiring to his apartment. Unfortunately for me the closest U-bahn line to him wasn’t working the next morning and I had to wander the streets without a phone or map until I eventually managed to hail a cab.
- Stumbling my way through a crowded German campsite trying not to trip over tent pegs and faceplant after bumping into the person from number 1 at Oktoberfest, losing my camera on a ride, and almost leaving my German hat as a souvenir (I commandeered it back though don’t you worry).
- While staying with my girlfriend in London, we caught the final night bus/s home from Shoreditch to Brixton, went to McDonalds and ate it together as the sun came up…one of my favourite memories to be honest!
I don’t feel ashamed of any of these moments in my life – I just feel happy when I think of them (and of the other stories which won’t’ ever be shared in the public forum).