A New Abode


I always think that staying in a hotel is like trying on a new life for size…

On Friday I stayed the night in a hotel in Manchester: a loft style hotel with decoration a million miles away from the dark little warren that is my cosy house.

For the first time in as long as I can remember I was all by myself in a hotel room. A huge room with a bed three pillows wide and industrial pipes cutting across each room in this former Victorian cotton mill. A room I had all day to lounge in before going for dinner that night. A room in which there wasn’t a Cath Kidstonesque flower Β in sight. Or a dog nibbling at everything I own.

As I always do in hotel rooms, I felt a little outside myself. As if I was busy playing the role of somebody else. I took a long bath in a bathroom with metal tiles on the floor. Sipped at raspberry lemonade, while chatting on the phone, and doing yoga on the bed. Then made myself a cup of tea because somehow I always feel obliged to remind myself how much I hate the kind of milk that comes in a tiny tube…

I played music and danced all by myself. Hobbling on a blister the size of a two pence coin after trotting around the shops all morning in search of shoes suitable to wear that evening. I sang at the top of my voice and imagined a gathering of people stood outside my door wondering whatever could be wrong with the crazy lady in room 208. I felt happy and free: free from the noise of my own belongings. The obligation to keep them tidy. Hushed by the kind of open space and decoration that does not demand attention. For yes… I do believe my house has too much to say for itself. And I sometimes wonder to what degree our surroundings shape our lives even when we are truly believe we are shaping our surroundings…

That night I ate (or rather nibbled at) plates full of sea bass, sweet potato’s and other gorgeous little bits of nothing, in sparkling company. A gorgeous evening of fun, laughter and gin. In a dress that is too big for me. And shoes I worried about falling over in. (Which obviously I did. Because a night out with me isn’t a night out unless I trip while I am trying to look elegant). And then it was over, and I was back in my room, curled up naked under crisp white linen, smiling at the ceiling and glad I had tried on a new life for the night even if it didn’t quite fit me, or couldn’t be mine for always…

So yep. I reckon this is going to be my new hobby. Hotel hopping around new cities. Deciding whether the loft apartment life is really for me or whether I will always prefer my own rose-sprinkled life here…

Preferably without the blister please.

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5 comments on “A New Abode

  1. Margaret on said:

    What a fantastic evening you had and what a splendid new hobby πŸ™‚ you deserve it.

  2. Chrissie on said:

    Go for it !

  3. Delores on said:

    So lovely to read your heartfelt words and thoughts about your life and all your magical moments , the joy and bliss bubbling . Xx
    Delores x

  4. Darlin’….elegant is your middle name. Bet you looked lovely. πŸ™‚

  5. All the heat, hot water and clean towels your heart desires! Room service! Bliss! I hope you can do this once every month.

    Ali x