Rain on the motorway, spraying up like top waves soaking a boat deck. The coach ploughs on through it, giant windscreen, giant wipers keeping visibility decent enough. Been on the road about an hour, at least two more to go before we reach Heathrow.
It will be slightly odd to arrive at the airport then swerve away from it again on a ‘Hoppa’ bus. Not a Dennis Hopper bus, they explode if you go slower than fifty miles an hour. Don’t think about explosions and crashes, Steve, there’s a lot more travelling to do in the hands of strangers before you touch down in Detroit tomorrow afternoon. Eat sandwiches, listen to Floyd, stare at familiar scenery as you do the last few miles before switching from M5 to M4. Hope the hotel wifi works.
…the hotel wifi does work. I’m downloading Japanese cutlery porn as we speak. Of course I’m not, spoons no longer do it for me.
I’ve had to change room as the first one was somewhat defective in the electricity department. I’m now a few doors down the corridor, identical room but when I plug things into sockets there is actual power coming through. They’ve been very apologetic. It’s nice when people apologise for minor inconveniences. And makes me feel ready to enter a country in which customer service is a real thing, not just something establishments pay lip service to.
I’m hungry now. Hoping Adam arrives soon so we can go for a not Valentine’s Day meal because we’re not into the whole naked mano y mano thing. Although he’s pretty.