19/12/08 Rio Grande, TDF, Argentina.

None of your rubbishy Japanese TV's in TDF

One of the things I miss about Britain - the You of Kay - is the opportunity to watch "Withnail & I" at least once a month, preferably with someone who's seen it at least 30 times. If the phrase "Breakfast in fifteen minutes!", uttered in the right way, is enough to make you burp with glee, you are In My Gang. Are you able to read, without honking up a chuckle, the following innocent words; "Where did you schooool?" Then you are not In My Gang.

My sister Vicky and I are currently spending a terrifying amout of cash texting each other lines such as "It won't be the first time I've been left with the couch" and "We're coming back in here!". I can't see how anything could amuse me as much as sitting in a bar in TDF and getting a text that reads "He told me of your arrest on the Tottenham Court Road". Bruce Robinson is the perfect artist - one immaculate, timeless work of genius, followed by a retreat into wine. Better than God.

22/12/08, Rio Grande

May I put forward a suggestion? The next time you're in TDF, don't plan on staying 8 nights in Rio Grande. There's nothing desperately wrong with it. It's got 2 quite nice cafe/bars (La Ruega and Epa) and a cheap hotel with English-speaking movie channels. But - oh Gawd - eight nights is seven too many. I have no choice. I got here too early, partly because I thought a week in the (long-gone) Irish pub sounded good, but I can't push on to Ushuaia because my hotel is only booked from the 24th, and I doubt I could get another room there without a reservation this close to Christmas.

Anyway, if you do get stuck here, the Carrefour supermarket is way better than the Anonima, and La Ruega does excellent litres of draught, while Epa has cheap bottles of Isenbeck. I really am done here though. Finally, try not to be here on a Sunday, and if you are, be sure to hand your shoelaces in at reception.

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Las Lagrimas del Rio Grande
Oh Rio Grande, Rio Grande
You are making my legs go bandy
Surrounded by sea, and thus not landy
At least I'm not reduced to shandy
The electronics you sell are made by Tandy
Your kiosks stocked with 3rd rate candy
Everything shuts on Bloody Sanday
I'll get outta here, please God, wan-day
No mountain views - not the smallest Ande
An Irish pub woulda sure been handy
Your tourist infrastructure is so not dandy
I wish that I had better planned-i'
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23/12/08, Epa bar, Rio Grande

If you know anything at all about me, you'll be aware that I'm a huge fan of personal hygiene. My jeans may currently smell like a failing bakery, due to having been worn unwashed for 32 days, but my body - from hairline to toenails - is like a brushed whistle.

I am generally all in favour of lavatories that are regularly bleached, fumigated and sand-blasted of course, but to close the toilets in the Epa bar for cleaning for 45 minutes, while I'm clearly drinking litre bottles of Isenbeck strikes me as an act of criminal madness. I can write this only now, after they've been re-opened, with the aid of a kidney massage and an oxygen mask.