Well, as expected, another night that wasn’t exactly totally restful. Although the room was decidedly cool, at least there was a fan heater which we switched on for a while before bed. Even though we’d rested on the flight over, the lack of solid sleep and time changes don’t really help. Luckily, the large TV set, though positioned too low to see easily (needs to be mounted up on the wall), re-reuns of ‘Lewis’, ‘Frost’ and ’Law & Order’ (with Bradley Walsh from the Chase, quiz programme), until about 4am, in the background, helped. What we find difficult to understand is, that with dozens of TV channels, both here and the USA, dedicated to ‘home shopping’, who the heck watches them? How many insomniacs are there who spend all night surfing the channels, looking for stuff to buy?
It is of course light quite early here and I got out of bed early and crept next door with the lap-top. Hooking into the free internet, then catching up with the blog was first on the list. I found out that unlike last year and earlier, emailing the blog post now only goes into ‘draft’ and isn’t published. I was wearing long trousers, a shirt and my rally jacket but was frozen! Yup, early summer in the UK.
The shave proved a massive contortionist act. Bending over a tiny sink, with a deep shelf situated about 300mm above it proved difficult enough to wash the face then leaning over look into the low mirror, my backside was up against the door. Diabolical ergonomics. As is often the case with home showers in the UK, particularly recent fittings of second bathrooms or minor renovations, they are electric. That means a high pressure cold water feed and a couple of dials. It should be easy to get a decent flow and temperature, but believe me, often it isn’t. So I went in the shower first and set things up for Paula. No towel rail, heated or otherwise, so drying the bath towels wasn’t so easy. We’ll probably have to use the fan heater – again.
Back then to the computer to search for local accommodation, and we settled for a reasonably good hotel for the 8 days after Blackpool. After a Costa coffee and toastie in Mapperley, we went down to the hotel and made the booking, rather than doing it on line. It even has an indoor pool, (wow!) and was warm inside in the lobby (a sharp contrast to the AirBnb). When first built, it was very modern (for Nottingham) and was privately owned and run, and with a good restaurant. Now gobbled up by a major chain of course, but at least we are guaranteed a more comfortable return.
However, before we went out, I realised I’d mislaid my passport and a flip through our belongings and a check of the car hadn’t turned it up. It wasn’t at Dave & Sues and by the time we’d returned to the AirBnb, I was getting a little anxious. At least it was in the UK! Another more comprehensive look, and - nothing. I was now getting stressed (believe me, that doesn’t happen very often) and even rang the car hire Heathrow desk, as I obviously had it at immigration, so it was then a case of retracing stops. They didn’t have it. That didn’t really help. So frustrating. We went right through the two full size cases, and both carry on's. Nothing. At long last, just before giving up and reporting it lost or stolen, I found it. Where was it? Tucked into my travel documents folder, where it was between the several car hire pages and when I’d checked earlier, folding the pages over, I hadn’t felt its bulk. The sense of relief was measurable…
That settled, my stomach was also settled, and we went out again to one of the small local street shopping areas, Arnold, but the market wasn’t operating. Paula did find a couple of real bargains in a shoe shop. On then to our favourite UK garden centre and café. Brookfields. Even though by now it was after 2pm, I opted for a slice of the home made meat pie, with roast potatoes and vegetables. Absolutely delicious!
A bit of a nod – and we very nearly overslept, waking at 5:50pm, just enough time to literally, say ‘Hi’, to son Stewart, grandson Noah and Manu, before heading to brother Dave and Sue, with every intention of catching the bus to the City. Dave and Sue have bus passes and he very quickly calculated that it would cost a total of £8 for Paula and myself, but only £1 for on-street parking, 6pm to 8pm and free afterwards. Take note Auckland… So that is what we did. We parked near what was always “The Art College”, but now named after a famous local artist, Bonington.
A short walk to the old Theatre Royal - just as it spotted with rain.
THEATRE ROYAL
To my mind, Jasper Carrott is one of the three very best British stand-up comedians of the late 60’s early 70’s. The other two being Billy Connolly – who most of you will have heard of, and Mike Harding - who most of you haven’t heard of.
As brother Dave had kindly obtained the tickets some months after he managed to get his own, we were in the upper circle, rather than with them in the dress circle. One floor below what was always known as ‘The Gods’.
Oh dear. The seats were so short and legroom so limited, that my shins were jammed up hard against the seat in front, but my knees were either side of the head of the person in front! The sound system wasn’t the best either.
Fortunately, there were a couple of seats spare on the row behind, the very back row, so we moved. Great performance as always with JC doing half an hour, then a rock band for half an hour, an interval, then same again.
It was raining again when we left.
“Last week, there was a beauty contest in Wolverhampton. There were 32 contestants – and no winner…”
“Las Vegas and Mansfield. The only two places in the world where you can get sex for chips…”
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