My pram has got no toys left in it after last night’s blog. Wow. Repetitive and moany.
So why was I so triggered by the hotel pushing us to the bottom of the list and giving us the worst rooms? It’s an old thing, embedded in the fact that I have chosen this alternative lifestyle. My life is absolutely brilliant, but unconventional. I’ve built up lots of strange delightful contacts and I do random shit for a living. Periodically I am reminded that the world is not pointed kindly towards the self-employed. There’s a need for predictability that we can’t meet. It’s rubbish. And from time to time I’ve felt myself being sidelined by people who have pushed their “ordinary” fantasy. It triggers me. We sacrifice a huge amount to the creative life. I guess I know that there are going to be loads of better rooms available, and feel like my contribution is being overlooked when they just conveniently put me in the basement. It signals that we are bottom of the hierarchy for them, which hits that old button. That’s all it was.
It’s a comfy bed. Airless room though down here, and the restaurant is booked for a conference tonight. I had to order a Deliveroo. I foolishly got a burger. It was huge and greasy and stinky. I sat on the loo and ate it shirtless out of the bathroom sink with a teaspoon. Halfway through, Lou rang to tell me that if I went about things the right way I could improve my room situation. She’s coming on Saturday. I don’t feel it is my place to kick off about it any more than I already have. But we had the conversation as I finished my sad half naked teaspoon sink-burger, tearing apart the bacon with my hands while the way hotels work was explained to me in detail. I ended up covered in grease and feeling a bit harried. A quick shower and almost immediately an argument with a friend over a misunderstanding.
Now I’m lying on my back in this cupboard and listening to the roar of the boiler and the weird popping sounds above me. I took the burger to reception to chuck it so the smell clears by Saturday, and I bought me an IPA. I’ve been sipping it as I write. Bed soon. An annoying evening and a long day. It has only been about three hours since I finished work and every interaction has been winding me up even further when I just wanted to switch down. God I would murder for a bath, but I wrote plenty about my room frustration yesterday. I’m gonna read my book and hopefully be snoring like a freight train in an hour.
AlBarclay 