Feeling Sorry for Myself
September 11th, 2006 by Mark Rittman
Whilst I don’t usually have much of a problem working away for
a few days, today was my four year-old son’s first day at school, and I
wasn’t there to take him down to the school and see him off. He’s been
at nursery two days a week up until now, so going to school isn’t
something that concerns him - in fact he was bouncing up and down like
Tigger this morning, so my wife tells me, couldn’t wait to get to
school - but even so, it’s an important day and I missed it. So I’m a
bit depressed actually, the life away from home is wearing a bit thin.
To compound the misery I’m staying in a pretty grim hotel down
in Berkshire, even more galling as it’s £90 a night and in
the centre of town. Unfortunately this is what you get when you stay
around the Thames Valley - the hotels are so expensive, what with all
the technology and telecoms companies, and so your company’s usual
£70-£90 budget usually gets you a run-down, “best
western”-style hotel rather than the nice sort of ones you get further
afield from the South-East. The only shop around seemed to be a petrol
station about half a mile down from the hotel, and so I walked down
there, Alan Partridge-style, only to find out they’d run out of milk
and orange juice. Which was nice.
Still, my enforced misery and monk-like existence for the week
at least means I’ll get a few early nights and crack on with my UKOUG
paper. I only wish I was there to see Scott come home from school.
September 11th, 2006 at 9:33 pm
Mark,
But I’ve got to ask, what does “Alan Partridge-style” mean?
That is a drag. But just think of the huge smile on his face when he sees you next! And all of the great stories he’ll have to tell you.
I can picture it, “And then… And then…. And then….”
Thanks,
LewisC
September 11th, 2006 at 10:17 pm
Hi Lewis
Thanks for the kind words, I’m feeling better now having got it off my chest a bit…
Alan Partridge - now there’s a story. Alan Partridge is a fictional radio DJ who’s wife left him and now lives in the Lintern Travel tavern, a budget hotel equidistant between Norwich and London. His evenings are spent walking down the freeway to the local petrol station just to buy a pint of milk, collecting sanitary bags in his hotel room and trying to make friends with the hotel staff. Life in hotels during the week is often like that, although unlike Alan I’ve not yet got to the point where I’ve put on ten stone, driven myself to Scotland in my bare feet and gorged myself on toblerones. Give it a few days though.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I’m_Alan_Partridge
cheers
Mark
September 11th, 2006 at 11:39 pm
>> and so I walked down there, Alan Partridge-style, only to find out they’d run out of milk and orange juice. Which was nice.
Yeah, but I assume you got a Ginster’s pastie?
My heart goes out to you … I know what you mean.
Looking on the bright side, you might want to buy yourself an extra-large breakfast plate.
September 12th, 2006 at 12:57 am
I missed my eldest daughter Rebeccas first day at school a few years back because of work commitments. It was a horrible day. I saw my second daughters first day this year and it made me sad because she seemed so young. You can’t win! Still more first yet! Wonder what his first girlfriend will be like ?? :->
September 12th, 2006 at 6:03 pm
Heh, as you were describing the hotel I was thinking of Alan Partridge. Hopefully that is the only similarity — I remember an episode where Alan hit a low point and had to ask for the “adult” channels to be reconnected for his room … no contract is worth the hotel staff knowing that you watched “Bangkok Lady Boys” last night.
I had to stay in a bed and breakfast place in Enfield for three winter months to fill in a gap between my landlord deciding that he didn’t want to be in the landlording business and emigrating. Not happy days at all.