Bed Head

In the midst of global and political chaos, I have to admit, I’m quietly excited. Not – of course – because an egomanical misogynistic neo-Nazi has won the US election. I am not a nutter. Something more domestic is quietly exciting me.

Tonight, tonight (can you hear the excitement?) I will be staying in a hotel room. By myself.

Let me repeat that. Tonight. A hotel room. By myself.

There will be no:

  • Snoring from the other side of the bed
  • 3 a.m. breastfeeding
  • Returning to bed to find TheBloke(TM) spitefully sprawling across my pillow
  • Nightmares about a) The Gruffalo b) wolves c) aliens

TheBloke(TM) will be looking after YoungestGirl – finally he’ll get a turn at breastfeeding. About time he had a go, the feckless lump. EldestGirl is with Grandma and Grandad for the weekend.

So at the hotel, there will just be me, doing bed-based star shapes, by myself.

The reason for the hotel stay is tomorrow I’m off to Blogfest, a meetup of bloggers where I shall ineptly attempt to network, almost certainly make some really inappropriate attempts at jokes (see: the time I exclaimed “I have chapped lips. Chapped FACIAL LIPS! Oh God, not the other ones!” whilst running a training course), then stand in a corner, pretend to be on my phone and hope nobody talks to me for the rest of the day.

Blogfest is in London and it doesn’t start until tomorrow morning, meaning I will have 14 beautiful night-time hours to do what I will in my favourite city in the world. Ruminating on the possibilities, I narrowed it down to:

  • A night at my favourite comedy club
  • A swanky meal somewhere special
  • A hot last-minute theatre deal

But then I remembered. I have a hotel room. By myself. It turns out that all things considered, the thing I would most like to do with 14 special hours is… to be unconscious. The bar is set high, Blogfest. Can you be more enjoyable than sleep?

4 Comments

  1. Oh the hours spent alone! So precious. I am still fuming over my trip to Sydney last year when I was looking upon the hotel room as a highlight, only to find a massive crack in the middle of the bed where two singles had been pushed together and that the room was right near Central station tunnel where trains are obliged to honk before entering. All. Damn. Night. I hope you enjoyed Blogfest! I am also a phone “checker” at these things but I’ve met enough people locally now so I can swan in and have a squad to talk to.

    • I had the honking trains too. But I never travel anywhere without earplugs, so their honking was silenced. Though I did wake up at 6.30 a.m. anyway, like some kind of conditioned spaniel.

      L x

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