Sitting here in the EasyHotel somewhere on the fringe of Heathrow listening to Jimmy Buffett singing The Great Filling Station Holdup and totally identifying with the line that goes; “….And I wish I was somewhere other than here…”. We are in an hotel room that makes “Spartan” sound luxurious.
I can only think of the tubes that one can rent in a Japanese airport for the purpose of sleeping off a long flight. No desk, table, chair, hangers (which is ok because there isn’t a closet), coffee pot, shampoo, bath mat or thermostat. Fer Chrissake, it’s winter and we’re in England!!! Had to ask for second set of towels, forgot to rent the remote for the TV, and think I’ll pass anyway. The bathroom is about the size of the one in my 23-foot camper, but without the bath tub. If the shower drain is as slow as the sink drain, we will have waste water flowing into the main room; but that won’t hurt the carpet-there isn’t any. One needs to drop the toilet cover prior to pushing the lever as it is very energetic and likes to give back.
But, it’s not all bad. We have a window facing the driveway and are entertained by incoming headlights doing a shadow show on the blind. We won’t want for fresh air as the window leaks. The rain beats a bluesy tattoo on the window panes and the jets flying overhead drown out the whistling wind. Every piece of luggage is within easy reach of our universal furniture, the settee/bed/desk/table. Internet access is cheap, £3.5 for 4 hours
It’s only a five minute walk through a dodgy neighborhood to the White Hart Pub. The smoked haddock, sautéed leeks in stilton sauce with new potatoes was good. The ale gave me a headache when the first gulp hit bottom, and tasted somewhat like Rickard’s Red-which I despise. That’s what happens when you choose your draft by the design of the tap handle. I was trying new things, anyway. The atmosphere was pleasant, quiet and restful until an Australian family reunion joined three tables next to us and settled in; making noises like a stoned digeridoo band.
We’re a long, long way from Algorfa, and miss it keenly. Drove to Alicante airport yesterday, turned in the rentacar and proceeded to kill four hours walking around the terminal and sitting in Burger King. I know, it’s Spain, dummy, and one doesn’t eat a Whopper for the last meal. It’s kind of reminiscent of my first meal in Alicante Province. We were taken to an English (what else) fish ‘n chips place by our resident friends. Like a brain surgeon, I ordered Southern Fried Chicken… ‘nuff said. Anyway, the flight to Gatwick was delayed, we arrived just before midnight and stood in queue for the immigration ordeal. Actually, I sailed through, not getting the third degree about the denied visa; as I had the last two landings. My line, the non-EU-passport line was shorter than Is’ so I got to cool my heels a while. Then we walked fourteen miles in the damp cold to the wrong bus stop and waited too long to find out that there was no shuttle to our hotel. Long walk back to the cab dispatcher and £17 later we debarked at the Holiday Express in God-knows-where.
Noon checkout, city bus (with all our luggage) back to Gatwick, Bus to Heathrow and shuttle to this place; ten minute walk to the local beer store and life is again good. Well…better. Tomorrow we ooze out of here at 1000, take shuttle back to Heathrow and walk around until our 2040 flight to Abu Dhabi. I’m thrilled. Two and a half hours later we fly toward Manila and whatever “adventures” await there.
I plan to buy a new SIM card there, so will be sending out a text with the new Philippine number. Don’t know how long before we get to Geneva’s at Bongbong, but will update you all when I can. Hasta la vista!
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