With a miserable start to our evening in Maribor, due to a malfunction of the loose egg location unit, or indeed location of any loose foods, as every restaurant/bar we approached immediately began packing up the tables, we eventually gave up trying to find the thronging hub of the 2012 City of Culture and stumbled into a dubious looking doorway claiming happy hour all night, where we demanded a litre of wine and directions to the happening night spots, which were met with derisive laughter and shaken heads along with apologies that it wasn’t as good as Ukraine, where she was from. Thus began the start of another new friendship, sealed over local firewater boozes which a young couple called Anna and Igor kindly thrust upon us, as she had an English exam next week and could justify an evening of drunken debauchery as studying. Returning to our hostel at some ungodly hour, we were met with crowds of punks and hippies, soiling out of a load of squat nightclubs which appeared to of sprung or of every random doorway behind the building! Fool of a Caxter Barman wandering around town looking for life when it was right here on or doorstep! Obviously wandering around the city centre looking for craic was an amateur move when the graffitied tenements on the outskirts of town were the place to be! And even more amazingly, Transvision Vamp was blasting out of one of them! Feeling it would be rude not to, we headed inside and proceeded to cut loads of mad shapes on the dance floor, taking up all of the room and disturbing the sleeping punk in the corner. We finally staggered out of there quite some time later as they kept playing all of our favourite songs, including Wild Boys and Rock Me Amadeus, Susan being the sensible one for once in the face of Jill’s pleas for “Just 1 more beer”. We’re glad of it this morning though as we feel almost human after a nice lager bottom for breakfast, and feel positive the feeling will only improve after the acquisition of a nice loose egg from the buffet car -which this train actually has, along with a plug socket, and we fear we may suffocate in such luxury. It’s still no Albania though.