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From: The worker
Category: Life
Date: 30 September 2004
The Lords Hotel Garway Road London
I was please to be retiring in the clean west london environs of Bayswater last Friday night. I and my party arrived at midnight for warm welcome by a French gentleman who kindly gave us two keys, one white one black, and directions for our room which included a map. Back out on the quiet, dark streets we stumbled along looking for the annex, where we were to stay, a few streets away. Room 149 was at the top of the tall building, though not quite in the roof. Flowered wall paper decorated the room and I was relived to see that we had a TV and light switches by each of the comfortable single beds. The clothes hangers were the robust plastic type with rounded shoulder bits.I should have like to use them. Two clean white towels were accompanied by the message that a £1 fine would be charged for leaving them on the floor or for demanding a fresh one each day. I was glad to know that. After battling with the make up of make up artists I climbed in bed and took my time to unwind and relax, tired as I was. I fell asleep and had the troubling dream that I lived with my manager and I kept on wondering how I had possibly got my self in to a relationship with someone I just didn’t get along with at all. That is the trouble with work. In the morning I lay in bed admiring the excellence of design, and the pragmatism of fitting this miniscule bathroom into this miniscule twin bedroom. There it was, bold and square sticking out of the wall, containing shower, sink and toilet in that small box inside this small box where I was. Once this was just a room, a small pokey, small room, but now it was a room with a bathroom en suite.The bathroom was the dimensions of an aeroplane toilet, though a bit larger or perhaps one of those new spacious train toilets with the automatic sliding doors.The bathroom was the dimensions of an aeroplane toilet, though a bit larger or perhaps one of those new spacious train toilets with the automatic sliding doors.It was little larger than an aeroplane toilet, or a slick new train toilet with facilities for the disabled.I was impressed. Down the four flights of stairs, out the door along the street back to Lord Hotel main for breakfast. Rolls sit happily in rows on plates on tables in the basement dinning room. Coffee and tea are poured by staff who hang around bored. German youths gather in herds outside the reception rucksacked up for the day, reluctant to get out my moody way. The grey weather suits the drab hotel, a good British holiday feel.
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