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Dec. 18th, 2006 07:01 pmIt was just like old times going up to London on the National Express coach yesterday. Even the in-coach TV had episodes of The Simpsons and My Dad's The Prime Minister that I'd seen on the same route back in the dim distant days of this time last year.
The hotel, in Earl's Court, was quite nice; my room was a bit small, but pleasant, and you can't complain about £45 for a night in central London. It was run by Italians, and incorporated an Italian restaurant, though I was already spending money I didn't have on this trip as it was so settled for an Angus Meal at Burger King. When I'd unpacked, I switched on the TV and caught the last 10 minutes of last Christmas's Dr Who.
( Pogues )
Listening to Capital Gold in bed in the hotel this morning, I heard the wonderful news, so appropriate today, that Fairytale had slayed Slade and gone through to the semi-final of The Xmas Factor.
Having washed and shaved, I found that when I pulled the lever up on the sink, nothing happened. The plug stayed resolutely down, and no amount of playing with the lever would get it to move. My half-hearted attempts to lift it manually were of no avail either. The water and shaving foam had to be left just sitting in the sink. I went down to reception and explained the problem to the girl there. She was Italian and had only a limited grasp of English. "Did you complain yesterday?" she asked, so I told her no, I'd only used the sink this morning. She seemed to just about grasp what was up, and said she'd look into it.
The restaurant was completely crowded at breakfast, with lots of foreign students - it was like dodgems getting in line to collect my croissants, roll and coffee. There were only two tables that didn't appear full, and both had 'Reserved' labels on them, but I eventually found a free seat in between a middle-aged German couple and an English lady on her own.
Passed the time after breakfast listening to Capital Gold and reading FourFourTwo. At 10.45, just as I was about to go and check out, there came a knock on the door; I thought it'd be someone to see to the sink (all the water had drained away, but the plug remained resolutely in place; I wiped up all the shaving residue with a couple of tissues), but it was just the chambermaid. She said "Sorry, I come back later," but I said "It's all right, I'm going now" and made my way to the lift.
I had a couple of hours to kill before my coach home, so went to Eccleston Road post office and posted the card to President Calderon, then headed back to the train station for lunch - a 'Christmas Sandwich' (turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce) and a Mocha (made with Rachel's Organic Milk) from Pret A Manger.
There was no in-coach TV on the journey home, but I'd taken my Private Eye on board so was OK.
My mother's been struck down by flu, so our trips to tonight's Haslar Detention Centre carol concert and tomorrow night's Test Valley Charity Concert are cancelled. Bang goes my Christmas kiss from Maria.
Think of Kirsty today.
The hotel, in Earl's Court, was quite nice; my room was a bit small, but pleasant, and you can't complain about £45 for a night in central London. It was run by Italians, and incorporated an Italian restaurant, though I was already spending money I didn't have on this trip as it was so settled for an Angus Meal at Burger King. When I'd unpacked, I switched on the TV and caught the last 10 minutes of last Christmas's Dr Who.
( Pogues )
Listening to Capital Gold in bed in the hotel this morning, I heard the wonderful news, so appropriate today, that Fairytale had slayed Slade and gone through to the semi-final of The Xmas Factor.
Having washed and shaved, I found that when I pulled the lever up on the sink, nothing happened. The plug stayed resolutely down, and no amount of playing with the lever would get it to move. My half-hearted attempts to lift it manually were of no avail either. The water and shaving foam had to be left just sitting in the sink. I went down to reception and explained the problem to the girl there. She was Italian and had only a limited grasp of English. "Did you complain yesterday?" she asked, so I told her no, I'd only used the sink this morning. She seemed to just about grasp what was up, and said she'd look into it.
The restaurant was completely crowded at breakfast, with lots of foreign students - it was like dodgems getting in line to collect my croissants, roll and coffee. There were only two tables that didn't appear full, and both had 'Reserved' labels on them, but I eventually found a free seat in between a middle-aged German couple and an English lady on her own.
Passed the time after breakfast listening to Capital Gold and reading FourFourTwo. At 10.45, just as I was about to go and check out, there came a knock on the door; I thought it'd be someone to see to the sink (all the water had drained away, but the plug remained resolutely in place; I wiped up all the shaving residue with a couple of tissues), but it was just the chambermaid. She said "Sorry, I come back later," but I said "It's all right, I'm going now" and made my way to the lift.
I had a couple of hours to kill before my coach home, so went to Eccleston Road post office and posted the card to President Calderon, then headed back to the train station for lunch - a 'Christmas Sandwich' (turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce) and a Mocha (made with Rachel's Organic Milk) from Pret A Manger.
There was no in-coach TV on the journey home, but I'd taken my Private Eye on board so was OK.
My mother's been struck down by flu, so our trips to tonight's Haslar Detention Centre carol concert and tomorrow night's Test Valley Charity Concert are cancelled. Bang goes my Christmas kiss from Maria.
Think of Kirsty today.
