So I've done another successful stint and then in a hair raising dash to somewhere else to present a three day Train the Trainers workshop that went well too I believe. I am going to give you a few stories from that trip that include

• Tarts in a bar I
• Tarts in a bar II
• The quiz that was fixed
• It's only 16 minutes to Central Vienna ... Oh no it's not
• Thick with dust Tarts in a Bar I

There were seven or eight workshop leaders this time and one wife of a trainer. We went out for the evening to a bar/restaurant near the airport: eat all you can, drink all you can ... I think Lions would have been over faced by the amount of meat on offer to be honest. Veggies like me had little to choose apart from their glorious puddings. There really was an endless bar too but that was of no interest to me either. So I was happy with the ambiance and the company: apart from the loud and outrageously gay men on the table next to ours. Why do these kinds of gays have loud and lispy voices and mouths the size of the Channel Tunnel? Trouble is, although we were there until late, so were they!

There was a grump bucket in our party, sitting next to me of course, who tried to get me to leave with him at 11 pm. Not that he's gay, just that he wasn't enjoying himself and being far too tight to pay the entire £5 taxi fare, wanted someone to share it with. I stayed and so did he: like a cat on hot bricks he was too. There was a mainstream psychologist in our party and at times like that, it's best to put on a brave face on your personality can be laid bare once you've left the room. Wonder what he really thought about me? Paranoid perhaps?

Anyway, everyone left apart from three of us: we decided to go to the bar next door for a night cap and I had my first alcohol of the evening there: a pint of lager type stuff. The room was wall to wall ladies of the night with the saddest collection of flabby, old, foreign men I have ever seen. The girls were all in clumps of Russians, Chinese, Filippinos and others. One or two were very attractive but others were aggressive, not so pretty and were smoking like chimneys.

One young man found a very pretty young thing to dance with him but as he listed first to port and then to starboard, she resisted his attempts to maul here. I suppose he felt he was being amorous and as he might be a paying customer, it was fine by him. She clearly wanted his business but not his advances and whilst she left him soon after that eposide, she did go back to him but his neck was still listing at 45 degrees from the vertical so she left again.

One of our party declared he was in love and she was in love with him: the news reader we called him as he reminded us of a news reader from BBC World! The psychologist gave us a running commentary on what was happening hither and yon and I was eagle eyed at never having been in such a situation before.

The newsreader was in no fit state to test his hypothesis although I did try to teach him a few key phrases in Russian so that he could communicate with his would be paramour but his mouth lost consciousness! So we left and headed back to the hotel with the place still heaving: we had to pay to get in too but that included a free drink.

The news reader staggered from the car to the hotel with, believe it or believe it not, one of his leather flip flop type sandals on back to front. A miracle! You try it!! He headed off to the bar for yet another night cap astonishingly and he did make it to his 9 o'clock start seven and a half hours later.

See next messages for further instalments!

DW