Friday night I missed the last train home by several hours. No real reason except that I went out with some friends and ended up in a cocktail bar having a major dancing session of 90’s cheesy pop. As I live right over the other side of London I realised that a taxi is going to be very expensive, in fact I was quoted £100.
So in the rain I decided to try and find a cheap hotel and bed and breakfast to get my head down for the night. After walking around Waterloo I saw a distant neon light saying “Hotel” so, drenched to the skin, I walked in. Glancing slowly at the clock I noticed that it was 2.20am.
After politely enquiring I was more than surprised to be told that they indeed had a hotel room available and that it was only £40, bargain! As I entered the room the familiar sense of the room beginning to spin was taking affect. So I tried in vain to take my jeans off I fell onto the bed and into a world of slumber.
The bright light from the hot morning sunshine shone brightly through the window straight onto my eyes. The unfamiliar surroundings of whee I was began to sink in. The first think I noticed was the large notice that politely said “VACATE THE ROOM BY 11AM”. It was already 10.45 so I never really had much time. After downing two coffees I started to pack my things up and noticed that the roof was slightly leaking
I laughed as it reminded me that in 2002 I lived in a pub where the bathroom that was above my bedroom would always leak when someone had a shower (yes I did move out!). I wanted to see if it was raining so I pulled back the curtains and something made my jaw drop straight to the floor. It was this rather uninspiring view
Hardly inspiring now is it…?
But now let me take you back to the pub I lived in back in 2002. It was an Irish pub called “The Bridge House”. I lived there for 6 months in a place until my new flat was ready. Full of Irish builders it was, odd, but also a nice place to live. Memories of the 2002 World Cup, the endless summer days playing pool with the students across the road, the horrific music blasted from upstairs and most of all some of the regulars who just seemed to drink so much alcohol they should be declared flammable.
Yes the pub was now the hotel I was staying in just that Friday night. But the irony is that of all the hotels in London, of all the hotel rooms.
I was back in my old bedroom…