I haven't published a jot in a long time. I was reading through past posts and cringing at what I had written. I was therefore holding off writing anything until I had something interesting to write about. If I continued in this vein my blog would die, so I am hoping by opening the MT publishing window, it will inspire me to write drivel unhindered by the embarassment of my previous posts.
I am currently doing my one week in 3 in London and staying in the worst hotel room I have ever stayed in, Room *** of the Radisson Jarvis on Bayswater. I get put up in whatever hotel provides the cheapest government rate at the time my travel is booked, sometimes I get great hotels in good locations. I thought this one would be not too bad, a few minutes walk from Notting Hill gate, opposite Hyde Park and 15 minutes dander from Oxford Street, on paper it looked good.
I checked in on Tuesday night, the person checking me in mentioned a smoking room. I heard her say it but thought nothing of it, open the window and it would be grand. Little did I know that when I opened the door the smell was akin to the reek I would expect from Shane Magowan after a three day Paddy's Day binge.
This was my big moment, time to look assertive. I strode purposefully down to the check in desk and asked for my room to be changed, tap tap on the computer. The "computer says no" we have no single government rate standard rooms left...my heart sank.
"We can give you a twin room though". Hoorah I thought, almost as good an upgrade as a government rate person could realistically expect.
Open the door of the room, things looks good, two single beds that I can push together, nice big bathroom, clean and fresh smelling. Later, on the phone to my wife I boasted about my good fortune.
I did my hedonistic trip to Tesco Metro to stock up on hotel room picnic food, bottles of Abbot Ale and peanuts (I managed to smuggle them past the room service police). A desperate hunt round the room for a bottle opener proved futile, so I removed most of the edge of the chipboard table and most of my knuckle skin removing the bottle tops.
I switched the telly off shortly after Kitchen Nightmares, 10 pm I really know how to make London rock!! I heard my door open and two people walk in talking loudly in German, I must be dreaming. I wake up slightly disorientated and no one is there. The noise is very close but not in my room, it was coming from a door which I hadn't investigated. I opened the egg box filled door to find another door facing me. It was one of those partioned rooms for families, that the hotel saves for difficult customers whose work place has paid paltry sums to stay there.
The german couple put the tv on, phoned home, had an argument, investigated the partion door and generally made a racket. I was hoping they would get up to some mischief, it might have made the night a little more interesting, but alas no.
I tried to muffle the noise by sound proofing the gap with pillows, this failed. I covered my head with the remaining pilllows and tried to get some sleep. Something wasn't right, I'm a deep sleeper and I just couldn't drift off. I thought about it for a while and identified the culprit. The room was extraordinarily light, I opened the window to investigate to find a huge halogen lamp aimed directly at my window to illuminate the front of the hotel. This must be so that the 100 cars a second driving past on the Bayswater Rd might be tempted to stop for the night.
About 5.45 am I drifted off to be awoken 15 minutes later by a horse riding club, yip in central london. They were galloping towards Hyde Park.
I got up at 6am, turned the tv on full volume, made a few imaginary phone calls home inches from the partioning door and opened and closed the trouser press violently for an hour or two before leaving for work.