Friday Nite In

This week is Summer and I have been flashing my bronzed legs. The flat's windows and front door are wide open letting the cooling evening breeze take out the fusty air that's built up during the day while I was at work and Boy at school.

Boy has survived his SATs and has reluctantly agreed that maybe the revision I nagged him into doing helped a bit. As I type he's happily killing the bad guys on the XBox. He looks a touch tired, but is otherwise unscathed.

As for myself, I'm not sure where the week went. Actually, that's not true. I know exactly where it went. I just haven't caught up with myself yet. I had four days of training in London, a night in my own bed then it was back down to London for a Hen-Do. Viking's eldest brother is tying the knot and I got invited to his fiancee's Do. It was a sucessful weekend, if a lot of hard work. Network Rail decided to do loads of engineering works, so what should have been less than a 2 hour journey down, became a 3 1/2 hour journing. The organiser of said Do, arranged for me to share with a woman who was lovely enough to book a twin room. When I got to the hotel I realised I'd forgotten the e-mail with the booking details in Norwich. I rocked up to this posh, 4 **** hotel, marble lobby, brass fittings, I thought 'oh dear'. The very nice receptionist couldn't find me or my room-mate on her system. She called her manager who also looked and couldn't find us. To cut a long story short, because my roomy was still at home while I was trying to book, she was able to send a copy of her confirmation e-mail to the Duty Manager (a very dishy Australian). He then organised a twin room in their sister hotel, The Westbury for the original price. They also paid for the cab to take me from them, to there.

Now, you have to understand that my half of the room was £60. One of the first questions my room-mate asked me was whether the hotel was a dive. It was most certainly not. I was feeling scruffy enough as it was. I had a scruffy cardigan, battered and none-to-clean jeans, knackered trainers, Lumpy and my back-pack. In all likelihood I would have just been allowed into a hostel. During the journey across to The Westbury, the cabbie asked whether I had posher clothes to change into - did I have time to go shopping. When I'm all grown up and have a proper income, I want to do London from The Westbury. The staff were starched, proper and very kind. Nothing was too much trouble. I was helped from my cab, Lumpy taken off me to be delivered to my room shortly, I was shown to Reception, shown to the lift. The room, or should I say rooms, were stunning. It was an Olde Worlde feel with the latest technology. There was a dressing room, complete with a walnut dressing table, polished within an inch of it's life. I want that bathroom, marble and white tile, white cotton bathrobes and a towel warmer.

I did scrub up good for the Hen-Do and had a brilliant time in good restaurants with great company. We went clubbing in a basement club that was concentrating on 50s-60s rock'n'roll. Elvis without the tassles, Duke Ellington etc. Thankfully there was not a pink cowboy hat, handcuffs or an L-plate to be seen. I gave up about 2am and got back to my blissfull room.

My bed. What can I say about my bed? Yes, it was a single, but with a touch more room than a normal single. The bed was so comfortable it was like sleeping in a hug. The duvet and pillows were feather, but I didn't have any problems with allergies at all. It was only the realisation that I'd forgotten to ask what time breakfast finished and when we had to vacate the room, that actually got me out of bed by 10.00. I just didn't want to risk having to pay full price for the room (that would have set me back £175) for the Sunday.

It was just as well I had a good time Saturday night, the journey back was horrendous. Fortunately, I had a Viking meet me at the Norwich station which soothed and eased my very tired, ruffled feathers.