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Vampires on Trains

Buying a ticket for the night train to Bilbao I discovered that it was in fact the insomniac express, it didn't have any beds in second class, and you were expected to remain awake for the entire nine hour journey. The only other passenger in my compartment was a blonde, Romanian woman from Transylvannia who had been working in a dodgy bar in Madrid. As the train left the city behind she pointed up to the moon, smiled, and my worst fears were confirmed. Obviously, I too was about to become one of the undead, a child of the night, and there was nothing I could do about it. So I made myself as comfortable as I could and tried to get some sleep.

The next thing I knew she was wakening me up as we pulled into Bilbao station. I didn't feel too good; my reflection had gone and I was looking a bit pale, but it was 0730 in the morning. I staggered out, tried to find a hotel room to escape from the daylight, but everywhere I went to told me, if my Spanish translation is correct, to piss off. So I found a cafe and camped out in a corner of it for some hours consuming caffeine until the people of the Iberian Peninsula awoke. Then I found a lovely, overpriced squat with a bed and crashed out in it for the remainder of the day.


If I were you I'd avoid garlic for a while. I'll arrange for a nice Catholic priest to sort you out when your back in the UK...

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