Somehow, D James Bryan’s holidays never go quite according to plan…

‘Such is the messy confusion that embroils anything I touch in my life that the result of any vacation will, in all probability, culminate in a farce of epical proportions.’

Matters aren’t really helped by the fact that his friends spend much of their time drunk or stoned.

His early ghost-hunting adventures are bad failures. He gets hopelessly lost in the highlands of Scotland. He goes on a trip to New York with a girl he detests. But, by these standards, the InterRail tour of Europe which he and a friend embark on goes like clockwork - all right, they get lost here and there, their tour guides are a pain, they never master the art of eating ice-cream - but otherwise it’s a huge success, usefully helped along by the odd swig of absinthe.