Fresh as a daisy me. Stayed in town last night having hosted dinner for a visiting Philippines corporate. That was a treat. Our guest kindly brought three delicious bottles of wine to the restaurant. Lynch-Bages 2001, Clos du Marquis 1998 and Lafaurie-Peyraguey 1989. How wonderful is that? I was booked into a Travelodge in the middle of nowhere, well, underneath some arches east of Tower Bridge, for the bargain basement sum of £79 and I must say I slept like a log, at least until the early hours when the rumbling of trains above my room and a strange noise next door – which transpired to be a car wash – roused me from slumbers and I pottered out, past the Tower and was at my desk before 6.30am. Go me.
I’ve stayed in an East End Travelodge once before. Earlier this year in fact. On that occasion, however, I thought better of bragging about how cheap it was. Now that some water has passed under the bridge I can tell you I fell victim to a sting which added £40 to the overall cost of the evening.
I had been invited by a very generous to friend to dinner at his club where he also treated us to the most exceptional line up of wines from the personal cellar he stored there. Needless to say I was full of bonhomie when I made my way, albeit somewhat warily, along a dark foreboding street leading up to my hotel. It was just as I was going through the safety of the hotel’s front door, which the night-guard had unlocked for me, I noticed a young woman sobbing uncontrollably. There was a man nearby her and for a moment I’m ashamed to say I was tempted to leave things to him to sort out. I didn’t, don’t worry. I went over and enquired what the problem was. I wouldn’t say it was the gallant in me that changed my mind. More like the couple of bottles of fine wine I must confess.
It was a strange situation indeed. Between her sobs I gathered she had had lost her handbag, phone and wallet. She had nowhere to stay in London and missed the last train to Cambridge ( that struck a chord ). When I asked where in Cambridge she lived ( that was me testing her story, nothing else ) she explained that she lived with her parents, not actually in Cambridge, but in Waterbeach or some such place. I can’t quite recall. Up in the Fens anyway.
In the cold light of day, which eventually dawned on my very sore head the following morning, it was so obviously a con-job that I don’t know how I fell for it, but there we were, sometime after midnight and struck by her plight I pulled out the last two £20 notes I had in my wallet and told her, somewhat ungraciously perhaps, that would pay for a taxi at least part the way home. And off she headed into the night to spend my money on goodness only knows what. Ah well I’d had a splendid evening and I suppose what goes around comes around.
OK…early bath…I’m off to play Real Tennis. I first took it up when we were renting in Cambridge twelve years ago. I got totally hooked and although I admit I was a little disappointed at how difficult I found the game I nevertheless quickly established myself with a world ranking of 1,458 if I remember correctly. Eventually though I lost interest when I found I was being beaten by 70 year olds. But I’ve decided the time is ripe for a comeback and so watch this space. My initial target is to get in the world’s top 1,000 and we’ll see where we go from there…..
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