write.as/jonbeckett

Everything was going so well. I got up, had a shower, made packed lunches, dropped the children off at school, went into the office for a few hours, came home, packed my bag, got on the first train, and was first to be seen by the person selling tickets.

How on earth can a return ticket from A to B cost one amount a month ago, and almost double now? The journey I needed to make can be done one of two ways – into London, and back out, or right the way across the country. It's kind of like the direct route, versus the version planned by the student that failed the travelling salesman problem – only the student that failed was charging half the price for twice the length of journey.

At the time of writing I am on the final leg of a somewhat epic journey. Where I would normally get on the train at Kings Cross, unpack the Kindle and disappear inside a book or a couple of movies for a few hours, this version of the journey is nowhere near as much fun. So far I have changed trains three times. I did manage to fit watching “Larry Crowne” into the last leg of the journey (favourite movie of the moment, completely talked over by friends I introduced it to recently – much to my quiet horror).

I have about an hour and a half left, I think – then a twenty minute walk to the hotel through the back streets of the destination city. After dumping everything in the room, I will wander to the local pizza restaurant and get my “table for one”, accompanied by a bottle of cider, and the camera phone. Instagram will be my friend for a few minutes.

The entire reason for the railway adventure today is a business meeting tomorrow in the north of England. Immediately following the meeting I have to make the return journey – linking station after station together in a hopefully successful repeat of today's shenanigans (p.s. love that word).

Some guy a few rows back on the train is talking to his friends about going to the gym. His voice carries. He is casually swearing, and it's annoying me intensely. Earlier in the journey a woman sat opposite me with a small child that she completely and utterly failed to control. In my head I confronted her about her appalling parenting skills, but of course I sat in silence, and said nothing.

It just occurred to me that with a little effort I could watch a movie on this laptop – I have the hard drive with me, and some headphones. It seems like an awful lot of effort though.

It's probably worth mentioning that this post was written with WriteMonkey – an app I re-discovered after re-installing the netbook a while ago. It's a “distraction free” word processor for Windows, in the same mould as FocusWriter, or WriteRoom on the Mac. I forgot how much I liked it.

Time to find that hard drive and start watching ridiculous movies. No doubt I'll extend this post once I arrive at the hotel (and sit in the lobby on my own, watching the world go by).

(several hours pass)

I'm sitting in the lobby of the Holiday Inn Express, with a free drink. When I arrived my “Gold Partner” status kicked in, meaning I have stayed here often enough that they now greet me on arrival with a gold envelope, and I get a free drink voucher. For about a nanosecond I felt really special.

I can't complain – the room is clean, tidy, everything appears to work, and the hotel is really quite nice compared to some of the idiotic places I've stayed. I like chain hotels, because they are predictable. The rooms are always the same, no matter where you stay. One of the managers at work likes to book into “boutique hotels” – almost like he's going on holiday. As long as I have a bed, a bathroom, a desk, and a working wifi connection, I'm generally happy. If the hotel has a bar, it's a bonus.

I have already had dinner – I visited the Pizza restaurant round the corner from the hotel, and had Calzone. It tasted amazing, and for once wasn't too much (their pizzas tend to be the size of dustbin lids). Sitting in restaurants on your own is very strange though – I invariably take my phone, and my journal, and while away the time emptying my head, and catching up with friends. The first time you visit a restaurant you think the serving staff are really friendly, and they make you feel special – then after you visit a number of times over several months you realise that the staff are always new, and they make everybody feel special. They are also (usually) following a script. I guess I am the world's easiest client too though, so I never get to know them beyond ordering and paying.

I know somebody that almost always asks the serving staff what their favourite dishes are. Idiot. Does he not realise they are low paid, and just presenting the information they have been paid to learn? I guess they might get a free meal, and know the menu through that, but knowing most chains – no way.

There are three businessmen sat adjacent to me, peering at their mobile phones. One of the phones just started playing really awful 1970s pop music. I think it's the bold guy with the hipster square glasses and pinstripe shirt. I'm really resisting the temptation to make a snap judgement about him being an idiot.

At the other end of the lobby a group of business women are getting increasingly drunk, and increasingly loud as the evening carries on. It's pretty entertaining. Every time another joins their merry band there are whoops, and laughter. The businessmen are now edging towards them – standing at the bar, and finding any reason possible to head in their direction. I can't believe they're doing it. They are no trying to chat up the lady working behind the bar – she is entertaining their banter, but expertly shutting them down.

Bald glasses guy has now propped the glasses on his head like sunglasses.

Oh, I've had enough of this. I still have half a pint to drink though. This post has already raced through a thousand words. If you're still reading at this point you deserve a medal.

The three amigos are now trying to talk to the girls behind the bar about football. I can't believe I'm hearing it.