Breakfast for One

After waking up a little after 7am, having a shower, shave, brushing my teeth, and getting dressed, I wandered down for breakfast in the hotel. I had bought cooked breakfasts every day at check-in, and I was damned if I was going to waste them (I rarely eat breakfast at home – I’m usually knee deep in making lunches and breakfasts for others, shouting at little people that haven’t done their homework, and washing up before throwing myself down the road on my bike).

Being a few minutes later than usual, I wondered if I might have trouble finding an empty table. Oh. No need to worry. The restaurant was almost empty. In fact, after a few minutes the restaurant was completely empty, save for me.

While I sipped coffee from the machine in the corner, I watched the various staff going about their business – or rather, waiting for some business. The girls on reception flicked pens through their fingers while gazing out into the car-park. The restaurant serving staff leaned on the lectern at the entrance of the restaurant, chatting about nothing in particular. The short-order chef in the kitchen made herself busy cleaning everything in site.

After a short while a group of teenage girls swept in – full of loud conversation, laughter, and confidence. They poured through into the hotel offices, and all began talking at once. I imagine they will be changing beds, and picking up after people over the next few hours – once they have put on their drab uniforms, and tied their hair back.

I can’t understand people that leave hotel rooms in a mess. I typically leave the room in the state I found it. If I’ve used cups, glasses, and so on I will just leave them together in one place to make it easy for whoever turns out the room. I also make the bed, which I know is stupid, because the staff will re-make it in my absence. I even make it on the morning I checkout, even though I know the sheets will be changed – it’s kind of hard-wired into me.

I suppose I should get my stuff together soon – not that I have much to do. I packed most of my bag last night. This morning I just threw the remaining things in. Checking out of the hotel will require no more than dropping my door card at reception.

I leave the office at 3pm, and the city at 4pm – on a train headed for London. Following that, a walk between Euston over-ground and under-ground stations, a trip across the London Underground to Paddington, then another train west towards home. I imagine I’ll get home at about 8 or 9pm. It very much depends on how much the great British transport network can disintegrate during the day (it generally does a very good job).

I wonder what kind of lunatic I’ll end up sitting next to on the train later? The anticipation is killing me.

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