The Muffin Lady Carburettor Hotel

Post CLXXII

Here’s the story of infuriation, routine, and Captain Mean.

Am I the only person who brings his own towels to hotels? Whenever I go to a hotel, I always bring my own towels. I know full well that the hotel will provide towels. And believe me, if it didn’t, well, that’s one angry retaliation Trip Advisor won’t see coming. But every time I go away somewhere, the people I travel with always say the same thing: ‘Why the hell do you bring your own towels?’ Am I mad? I can’t be the only one who does this. Why would you use a stranger’s towels? It’s no different to going around a friend’s house for a cup of tea and not bringing your own cup. Why would you use your friend’s cup? How do you know they don’t have Ebola? What? Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t take your own cup around, to? Oh, for heaven’s sake…

Of course, one could argue that a friend wouldn’t invite you around for tea if they had Ebola, but that’s a gross underestimation. How do you know what your friend’s motives are? Sure, could be just a friendly chat, but how do you know they don’t suspect you of sleeping with their partner? What if you did and they found out? ‘Ah, I know my revenge; I’ll invite them around for tea and not tell them I’m suffering from Ebola.’ It’s a very British way to get revenge. Don’t put poison in a cup – it’s too obvious. Death by association is much easier and you’re more likely to get away with it. Of course, I really shouldn’t be giving you tips on how to kill someone successfully. MI5 have warned me not to do that again…

I’m actually writing this in said hotel I am currently residing in, the first post I’ve ever written away from home. It feels very strange. I don’t like doing routine things in strange places. You’re out of your comfort zone and I like my comfort zone. It’s somewhat comfortable. Occasionally claustrophobic and sometimes there’s a mad shouty leprechaun kicking me, but in general, it’s quite comfortable. I know when I’m at home writing a blog post, the only disturbances I’ll get are from drunken teenagers hanging around outside and the occasional owl, usually making a noise because the teenagers are being mean to it. They’re mean to everything. Even Captain Mean, and he’s certainly not your average number. Ahem. Where’d that tumbleweed come from?

I know how to deal with teenagers and owls. You channel the physical rage into long-winded and somewhat convoluted written rage. But here. Oh, no. I can hear lorries and the occasional mystery beep. Oh, and the odd police siren here and there, but this is Birmingham, so what do you expect? I can’t deal with this. I’m being interrupted more times than a teenager’s phone during a verbal conversation. I say ‘conversation’. Just an endless series of ‘yeahs’ and nods…

Tell you something else that’s irritating me. These walls are paper-thin. I’ve heard more typical southern accents than I can tolerate, all posh, well educated and with prim and proper Queen’s enunciation. They’re so close to me I sometimes fear they’re about to enter my room, which is okay if they’re hot, because it might lead to something interesting, but if it’s a fat Cockney, I’m buggered.

The thing is, you get quite interested in what’s going on. There are two women having a very loud whispering conversation outside my room. One of them is called Kate. Her friend has a problem with her lights flickering. She’s just about to go to bed. For God’s sake! It’s dark at night, do they not teach these southerners anything? Night equals darkness. WHY DOES IT MATTER IF YOUR LIGHT IS FLICKERING! YOU DON’T NEED IT AT NIGHT, YOU MAD LUNATIC! But oh no! I can’t go out and tell her this because I’d be labelled a ‘crazy person’.

Kate was actually in her room and her friend was visiting Kate to ask about her flickering lights. WHAT THE HELL IS KATE GONNA DO ABOUT IT! I’ve seen Kate through the peephole in the door. She does not look like an electrician. She looks like she works in a muffin store. Why do people ask their friends for help with situations for which they are clearly not qualified? ‘I could call out an electrician the fix the lights, but you know what, I have a mate called Dave. Worked as a tailor for 23 years. I’ll ask him instead.’

The thing is, I can’t ‘not’ listen to the interesting world of Kate and her friend. It’s strangely appealing. Looking out of the window is also strangely appealing. I have a very keen eye. Across the busy road out the front of the hotel is a bridal shop. No worries there, except it’s still open and the time I’m writing this is just after midnight. Who the hell needs a wedding dress at bloody midnight? The pound store next door is more useful and that opened at 10am and shut at midday. Heck, the betting shop is closed but the bank is still open. And who put a bank next to a betting shop? That’s just asking for trouble. Let’s put a KFC next to a gym, while we’re at it.

I’m only here for three days. Well, two and a bit. I’m not gonna lie and say it’s the world’s greatest hotel, but it’ll do. I mean, the receptionist is insufferable but that’s only because he can’t really speak English and smells like someone who’s just taken a bath in raw sewage, immediately had a long stay in a Turkish sauna and then drenched himself in an old gin. I mean fair enough if you can’t speak the language and smell like an armpit, some people are like that, it’s their prerogative, but surely, working in a hotel isn’t the best place for you to be. I do happen to know of a pound shop that clearly needs more staff…

It’s been an interesting week. I’ll be home by the time this very late post goes up, but I wrote it before I got home. Time issues, and all that. I’ve learnt so much during this trip. Like how to read a map. Oh yes, I did that on the way down (my brother was driving). I think that went well. I mean, I got us lost a few times, but apart from that, it went smashingly.

Well, I’m tired so I better be off. Ooh, hang on. What is that I hear? Yes! It is! Ooh, Kate’s friend is back. Ah, this’ll be interesting. I bet you any money she needs her carburettor fixing…

Peace Out :|:


I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. You can leave a comment and/or like this post below, or by clicking the title on the top of this post if you are on the archives page. Likes and follows greatly appreciated. Thanks.


Please feel free check out the latest posts from my other two blogs:

To Contrive & Jive
New Posts Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday
Click Here to Read the Latest Post

Hark Around the Words
New Posts Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday
Click Here to Read the Latest Post


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