Thursday, 14 February 2013

Hotels - like home, but more uncomfortable and expensive...

A night away! It’s with work, but still, a night away it is!  It’s nice to have a break from routine, get away from all of the things you have to do when you’re at home.  Like washing up.  My hands currently look like they belong to an 80-year-old woman who’s been working on a North Sea fishing boat all her life.
Or like reminding people to do things.  Have you tidied that up?  Have you read that yet?  Have you wiped THAT? Don't get me wrong - it is a joy and a privilege to have children, but it’s also lovely to be called ‘Molly’ for a couple of days instead of Mum.  Or MUMMY!!!! Or Muuuuuuuuummmmmm (said with at least 3 syllables...)

When I started to write this, I was lying on one of the beds in my hotel room.  “One of the beds?”, I hear you say incredulously.  Yes, that’s right.  2 beds in my room.  Both single though and it took me 20 minutes to choose the least uncomfortable of the two to sleep in.  I luckily didn't embarrass myself (as much) like I did last time I was in a hotel for work.  I checked in, went to my room, but the lights wouldn't work.  Maybe they've had a power cut I thought to myself.  No, the telly is working.  How very strange.  I should definitely let them know about that on Reception.  I didn't know you had to put your room key in a special bit by the door to make sure you didn't leave the lights on when you left your room did I.  Really wished I had phoned Reception to tell them instead of announcing my idiocy to the queue of people waiting to check in...

Still.  I am away from the kids, away from the school run, away from the pancakes.  Arse.  I’m away from the pancakes...  Still.  I can have a few drinks and dinner.  Hmmm...could do that at home though.  Still.  I can get up later than normal.  Except I can’t, because I have to go into the office with someone else as I don’t have my car. Still.  A change is as good as a rest (see previous posts for further wisdom on that score.)

And there is the fact that I can watch tv in bed – a rare treat! (I must have a look at my expectation/excitement levels and think about readjusting them...)  But wait, there’s nothing on that I actually want to watch and NO SLEEP TIMER!  No sleep timer?!?!  Is this the 1980’s for goodness sake!

So, inevitably, I end up having an awful night’s sleep in an uncomfortable bed, waking up at 3am to the telly blaring out an infomercial for unwanted hair remover.  I am dribbling slightly, but at least there is nobody here to see it – not that my husband would be anything other than comatose if he were here...

I also have a recurring nightmare that I have accidentally (tipsily) set my phone alarm to go off on the wrong day and/or time.  This resulted in me waking up every hour or so in a complete panic, scrabbling for my phone to see how long I had overslept by.

When the dulcet tones of Sloth from The Goonies finally roused me at 7.45am (small, but not insignificant lie-in, completely wiped out by the panicked flapping episodes 4-5 times in the night), I felt like I had been  beaten up by each individual mattress spring.  (Once you go memory foam, you never go back...)

Still.  I did only have to get myself ready for the day, and I was a very good girl and got washed and dressed with the minimum amount of fuss.  I think I should get a sticker on my chart.

Was it worth the school morning trade off for such a bad night’s sleep? Too bloody right.
(But I wouldn’t want to do it every week.)

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