At the Hotel

I checked into the hotel an hour or more ago, and met the leader who told me she had expected me at the airport. Annoying for her, as I had told the company I would be here in advance of the holiday. Anyway. She’s from Tyrone and helped put this holiday together, so she’ll have a personal interest in it which is good.
My room is spacious but noisy as it overlooks the street leading into town. There is a steady stream of traffic outside the windows. Although I live in London, I am not on the main road and I am unused to the proximity of cars. I wonder how I shall sleep. The first night in Delphi we realised were on the main route to the nightlife, and scooters buzzed up and down the road like angry wasps with megaphones until dawn.
This may call for a whiskey before bedtime.


The television on the wall is twice the size of my one at home. I wonder if I shall watch it at all.

The others, who I have yet to meet, are on a tour of the town, but I decided to skip that. This afternoon I was close to cancelling the whole thing. Sitting in the garden with Fido seriously interrupting my newspaper reading, Marple lying on the sections I had put down beside me, and Westie Boy lying at my feet, there really didn’t seem a better way of passing the next week. Part of me is quite ready to drop out, another part wants to walk, so the weather may be the deciding factor. There’s a welcome meeting in five minutes, then dinner, so I had better put the final full stop here and drag a comb through my hair.
Wish me luck!


8 thoughts on “At the Hotel

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s