Hotel Sachi, on New Steine. £30 a night. Check yourself in, everything on a code. A single bed in a cupboard looking out on the square. The radiator is stuck on full blast so I’ve thrown open the sash window. I can hear St James’s Street this Saturday night but the other option is snoring in a hot room and spitting blood in the morning. I’m about to do some Shakespeare so my pipes need to be in good nick.
The other rooms are full. Lots of men talking loudly on phones in unfamiliar languages, watching foreign TV on high volume cast from phones. It’s basic here but there’s good WiFi. My bathroom is across the corridor, with a lock and key. When I get into it it’s mine, but the corridors are rarely empty in here so any late night wee I do will have to be dressed in something. I’ve got no pajamas.
I drove here from Hastings to look at Joni, Lou’s little green car. She has ongoing issues with her starter motor. Sure enough that’s happening. I’m gonna use a battery pack tomorrow just to juice up the battery. Hopefully see it through until march rather than let it die, but the cold months are still to come and I can’t start it without an engineer, I haven’t the knowledge and there’s no point as she’ll die again before Lou is back. I was hoping she’d play ball and start for me and then I could just rev her back to charge. Sadly not. Annoying.
I checked into the cheapest hotel nearby. I could have booked the flat next door to her for something like £175 a night. Obviously didn’t. It only gets booked once in a blue moon at that price which is great as the walls are thin and you don’t want to have to listen to the conversations of the sort of people who think that’s reasonable. They impose their noise on us anyway when we try to have a peaceful sauna at beach box. Coming in through the wall at midnight? Nope.
Brighton is OUT tonight though. It’s the little gap between Christmas and New Year, that everyone tries to name but no name will ever stick as the time itself is too shifty and lost. Missedmas. Malcolm. Twixtmas. Meh. No point imposing meaning on it. But everyone in this town, in many towns, is out getting fucked up.
Apart from the guy who is doing what I would have been doing if Joni had started. He’s running an engine. At ten at night. Hard to charge it. Right outside my open window.
I’m in my single bed in my cupboard. Thankfully I’ve got my book. And my sleepy drink. And Gaviscon. I can settle my Christmas tummy, shut my brain up and guarantee 4 hours of clear rest.
The highlight of my day was seeing Tessy. Fluffy ragdoll attack cat. She was happy to see me. We played and did brushing and generally looked at each other. Within ten seconds of my arrival she was slutdropped waiting for me to get brushing. She has a full time carer living there so I didn’t want to fuck with his routine with her, but I’ve missed her since Lou has gone. Exactly the same breed as Misty, but infinitely smarter and willing to bite you if you piss her off.
AlBarclay 