I’m paying £15 to use this ‘hi-speed’ internet and write this blog today, so I’m going to take my time with it. £15 is a lot of money for something that is generally free everywhere. I mean, its not free. People do pay for the webs, but £15 just so I can write abuse at people on Facebook, Twitter my mundane life and then do a blog does not really seem worth it. I wonder if, when I check out, I can show them proof of what I’ve used the internet for and maybe they’ll give me a discount due to my underwhelming use of the system. This is however, a very nice hotel, and that means that if I want to stay somewhere that is a stark contrast to the Britannia in Wolverhampton, then I do have to pay stupid prices for things that are otherwise not very much. £2.95 for water. £2.95 for something I could run to a stream and get for free. Admittedly I wouldn’t want to run, I’m not sure of where there are streams in Manchester and even if I found one it probably wouldn’t be clean enough to drink from. But I feel that while I really don’t have a valid point I’ve justified it enough to myself just by saying ‘£2.95?’ alot, till I get upset. Its the law of the British to be upset about things I should be happy about. I should be really happy that the bed in this hotel is the most comfortable bed I’ve possibly ever slept in and it felt a bit like sleeping on a cloud, if clouds weren’t made of moisture and didn’t have the possibility of plummeting 50,000ft to my death. Instead I’m annoyed because I have to leave the bed by 12pm. I should be pleased that the shower is one of those power showers that blasts dirt off you until you would be allowed into Prince’s house and could touch things even without special gloves on. Instead I stood there for ages with my face under it comparing the water to small needles being fired at me. It felt nice, but I’ve persuaded myself it didn’t. I should be pleased they have valet parking as that’s pretty damn fancy. Instead I’m worried about some oik sitting in my car and probably having moved the seat back as they’re aren’t a dwarf. It’ll then take 15 minutes just to re-adjust it. Its just the law of the British.
I’m feeling particularly British today too, because yesterday myself and Jim indulged in High Teas at Betty’s Tea Room in Harrogate. Lots of people had recommended we go and I was pleased we did. It was like being transported back to the early 1900’s and I felt I caught a glimpse of what Doctor Who must do when he’s not battling Daleks or saving the planet. I’m sure he uses the TARDIS (yes in capitals because I am proper) to get a great cream tea in 1908 or to watch a lion eat a man in Ancient Rome. That’s what I’d do. The staff in Betty’s were all dressed in old fashioned uniforms, all spoke with posh accents and delivered all the food with china plates in kitsch gold high tea carriers. I felt that by walking in with my leather jacket I was possibly letting the whole side down. Both Jim and I had to use our phones in there too and was worried they would ask us to leave and return in tweed jackets and then only drink the tea with our pinkies up. Luckily they let us stay and I indulged in sandwiches, followed by scones with jam and clotted cream, and finally cakes. I could live like that. I wouldn’t live for very long due to the clogging up of all my arteries, but I would enjoy the short fatty life I’d had. I have recently been deciding that the early part of the 1900’s was very cool. All the attire, food and general look of the era had a certain charm to it. Then I remember that they also had World War One, the Irish Potato famine and a truck load of disease – well not a truck load, they didn’t have trucks then – a horse and cart load of disease and I realise I’m quite happy with 2009.
I have a day to kill now. But who to kill first? Well my plan, until tonight’s gig in Bradford, is to go and finally watch Zombieland. I have made 5 attempts to see this film before and I’m slightly scared that if I manage it today, something terrible might happen, like a rift will open or my eyes will fall out. I am prepared to take this risk for the sake of seeing the cameo that I have heard I’m not allowed to hear about. This is somewhat contradictory of people to say, but I’m excited nonethless. Last night’s show in Harrogate was tough for the first 10 minutes of my set and then the audience decided they would enjoy it and the last ten was great. I have a feeling they were just being very British and refusing to enjoy it for a while.
