Hotel

I still get tremendously excited about staying in hotels, the wondrous anonymity of staying in that sterile little bubble. The decadence of staying in a hotel is exaggerated when you haven’t travelled particularly far from home, when it could be said that there is no real need to stay over and you could easily just pop back home. And we stayed two nights in Birmingham, 37 miles from Stone- door (home) to door (hotel) Double decadence.

I love everything about a hotel stay- The miniature bottles of toiletries, sewing kits, shower caps, overpriced minibar, the refreshment tray, the quarter sized kettle (only in a hotel would cut consider filling up a kettle from a bathroom tap), room service, the excess of an all you can eat breakfast.

The recklessness of throwing your damp towels into the bath instead of carefully hanging them up. The magic pixies (mainly from the Eastern Block) that make your bed and return order to the room. I don’t like to take advantage, I am acutely aware that a low wage drone is given responsibility of tidying and checking on a very tight time scale. Of that I feel guilty, but that perhaps makes me more appreciative and makes it even more of a treat?

I realize that in a fourteen day period we will stay in four different hotels, cracking.