Leeds, England, United Kingdom
Thursday, December 10, 2009
A train to Paris. Once nothing more than a dream, now something that is within reach of anyone with an internet connection, a credit card and a great deal of patience and little luck (see
Eurostar lucky dip approach to the best fares). Being in possession of all of these and having been put off a trip to Berlin after the Fall-of-the-wall celebrations resulted in the airfares
trebling, we left Leeds for London ull of anticipation and clutching a bag full of cake (ever since
Portugal we take cake everywhere...just in case). As we were on the (very) early Eurostar there'd be an overnight in London albeit a short one and we opted for one of those cheap hotels near St Pancras (yes
those hotels). It took us several minutes working our way down the street going door-to-door to find the precise part of the hotel that had the reception in it. It is a bit confusing really, these hotels have obviously grown by acquisition rather than organically and, rather sensibly, their owners have decided that there's little point in having several receptions. The result? Numerous hotels, with numerous names and signs and only one reception....well we found it eventually and stepping into the hardboard pannelled room, the receptionist sitting behind some sort of protective screen, for some reason I wondered if I'd stepped into a private-hire mini-cab office.
We handed over our cash (obviously) and worked our way through a myriad of narrow staircases, each small landing optimistically sporting a fire extinguisher, until we found our bed-size room, white formica wardrobe with a TV perched on top, wash basin, bedside table and a bed.....
