One Day Down
Ok. That's the first day of this trip ticked off the list. Working with wonderful people in a wonderful office. The work part of this journey was never going to be a problem. The problem is me – or rather the abject failure of my body.
I woke in the early hours of the morning feeling incredibly unwell, and just made it into the bathroom to project what an old friend would term “wafflechunks” into the giant white telephone to God. I then got back into bed, and did it again – not so luckily this time. I may write a thank-you letter to the maid that found the hotel bed stripped this morning, and the bed-clothes neatly folded up on the floor by the door to be washed.
Not fun.
I'm going to blame the pasty I bought from Euston station last night. Or the cold I have at the moment. Difficult to apportion blame.
As an aside, it would appear the “free” WiFi in the hotel has come with a “free” intruder. I have discovered a load of bizarre browser history from the early hours of the morning, and can only figure that somebody hijacked my browser session over the hotel WiFi. Urgh... I've cleared up most of the wreckage, and have done the real world version of Star Trek's “Shield's up!”, but it's still kind of dispiriting to know that there are people out there who really do sit on hotel networks probing for browser sessions.
I just got back from the gigantinormous supermarket across the road from the place I'm staying. Given last night's adventures I didn't want to tempt fate with eating out, so bought some bits and bobs to snack on. Oh my word – don't think I have ever seen such a big store – reminded me of going to J C Penny when I was little (no idea where it was in the US, but we landed at Grand Junction, and drove out to Lake Powell). The shopping mall we wandered around soldanything from a spoon to a Cessna light aircraft.
I now feel sick. I bought a load of things that I know are good for me, and have been chucking them into my body like a crazy person. Yes, I really am that stupid.
This post is going nowhere. Half the reason is a work trip usually involves sitting in the hotel lobby at the end of day one with a drink. My self imposed incarceration has kind of hit that one on the head – even though there is a pub within staggering distance of the hotel. If I feel better tomorrow I'll wander over and write about the unwitting clientelle – they can't be any worse than the funniest man in the world (well, he thought so) that I endured in the Holiday Inn Express in Leeds once.
The truth about travelling with work is that it's mind-numbingly boring. At home I always have chores to get on with. Here I have nothing to get on with. I'm eeking out my clothes to last the stay, and have bought snack food finely judged to be consumed before leaving. I guess (with knowledge of the hugemungous shop across the road) I could buy clothes if needed, but still... that's about the extent of my concerns.
It's raining by the way. It has rained since I woke this morning, and hasn't stopped all day. The rain is hot, and is turning into steam when it bounces off the pavements. It's very, very odd.
I'll shut up now. I have lots more nothing to be getting on with.