I don't Love Hotels!
Mac just reminded me in an email about Japan's Love Hotels (apparently an 'experience' if you want to make the most of the local culture - see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Love_hotel) an economically efficient option in case Robin accompanies me to Tokyo in March! Héhé!
But this morning, the last thing I love is hotels. Quite frankly.
Robin thought it would be a nice idea to spend yesterday evening in Edinburgh, since he's now working there more often. And a nice idea it was. In fact, the meal at Petit Paris on Grassmarket was delicious, and generally very pleasant. As usual, we felt it necessary to make ourselves known to the staff and spent half an hour chatting to the owner, who spoke so fast that I was getting all tied up trying to make my own mouth move at the same rate ... the Swiss are so much more leisurely about this whole speaking lark, and it seems I've adopted the same tendency!
The hotel was also a nice idea. The reality was something somewhat less comfortable. When I pay to stay overnight somewhere, and I get a bed, I expect to sleep, or at least to have the opportunity to do so. And not to have hotel staff waking me up every hour all through the night by stomping past my room and shouting to one another as they set up for breakfast, vacuum the bar, etc. in the room opposite. I won't even start on the quality of British hotel beds compared with those elsewhere in Europe and North America (and presumably elsewhere).
Could we get a refund? Oh, well, you'll have to speak to the manage for that. 10 minutes later, the phone number finally appeared.
My eyes want to glue themselves shut again and yet there are another 7 hours until I get to go home!
But this morning, the last thing I love is hotels. Quite frankly.
Robin thought it would be a nice idea to spend yesterday evening in Edinburgh, since he's now working there more often. And a nice idea it was. In fact, the meal at Petit Paris on Grassmarket was delicious, and generally very pleasant. As usual, we felt it necessary to make ourselves known to the staff and spent half an hour chatting to the owner, who spoke so fast that I was getting all tied up trying to make my own mouth move at the same rate ... the Swiss are so much more leisurely about this whole speaking lark, and it seems I've adopted the same tendency!
The hotel was also a nice idea. The reality was something somewhat less comfortable. When I pay to stay overnight somewhere, and I get a bed, I expect to sleep, or at least to have the opportunity to do so. And not to have hotel staff waking me up every hour all through the night by stomping past my room and shouting to one another as they set up for breakfast, vacuum the bar, etc. in the room opposite. I won't even start on the quality of British hotel beds compared with those elsewhere in Europe and North America (and presumably elsewhere).
Could we get a refund? Oh, well, you'll have to speak to the manage for that. 10 minutes later, the phone number finally appeared.
My eyes want to glue themselves shut again and yet there are another 7 hours until I get to go home!
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