You find me sitting at the desk in my hotel room once more, tapping away on the keyboard of a laptop under the light of a desk lamp, wondering what to do with the rest of my evening. I’ve just returned from the hotel restaurant – the third meal out in a row. I don’t normally do this. I don’t normally eat in hotel restaurants because sitting alone while everybody has fun around you is horrible. I always fear that trying to strike up conversation with a random stranger will come across as weird in some way, so keep myself to myself.
Of course this week I had an excuse – I am at the same site as a co-worker, so we arranged to eat breakfast and dinner together every day – making the whole hotel experience a little less lonely. Of course it helps that this hotel *has* a restaurant – not something you can always rely on. It’s run by one of the big pub chains, meaning the menu is exactly the same everywhere – luckily it’s all new to me, because we very rarely eat out at home.
So. What exciting activities shall I fill my evening with? Maybe packing my clothes, ready to leave in the morning ? (should take all of five minutes)… Or how about having a bath, just because I can without somebody standing outside the door shouting “Dad” twenty times. Or even have a shower, just to make myself feel better before going to bed.
I am of course charging everything up for the journey home – the Kindle is plugged in across the desk from me, and I’ll be milking the Hotel WiFi to fill it up with movies and TV shows for the journey home later. I brought my old Kindle with me – the one full of books – but haven’t read a word of anything since setting off in the early hours of Tuesday morning. The idiotic thing is I love reading – I just never make time for it. I blame blogs – they whisper directly into my brain.
There is a shop just across the plaza from the hotel that sells chocolate bars. I’m tempted to wander down there, but also know that I don’t eat crap every night at home, or even think about it, so somehow defeat the urge. The chocolate IS cheap here though – ridiculously cheap, when compared to shops at home. I guess the closer you get to London, the more expensive everything becomes.
It just occurred to me that I haven’t switched the TV on in the hotel room at all. I don’t even know if it works.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll have something interesting to write about, instead of this banal drivel. Fingers crossed.