Wednesday, February 11, 2004
We sold the house.
The money is in our account.
I asked the bank to transfer funds to Canada (I think they thought I asked them to create a faster-than-light spaceship, they were a bit phased by what I wanted). Anyway, 60 minutes Deb had to sit in the car waiting for me to finish dealing with Barclays, but it's all done, and I assume the cash will be there on Monday for us.
I am currently at the hotel at Heathrow, which boasts that it was voted best business airport hotel in the world seventeen times running (or some figure similar). Within minutes I had three things to complain about. 1) They didn't have our reservation, despite me having provided a booking reference printed from the internet. 2) The room safe doesn't work, so we complained to reception who says that all safes in the building are broken due to some weird network error. 3) There's no "guide" to the hotel saying what's available, when it's open and how much it costs - or even where it is. We're in room four-thousand-and-something. Gives you an idea of how big this hotel is, and we have no idea what's on offer. Pitiful.
Did I say three? I meant four. Their internet cafe is broken, and I have to type this using their business suite, which makes me feel like I'm imposing as men in suits keep popping their head round the door saying "Will you be long?" Hmm, I'm in jeans and t-shirt, typing a blog in an business suite. They can stuff right off, I'm paying half a grand for three nights here, and I wanted better service than this. Gripe, gripe. (Oh, and their car park barrier was broken when I tried to park the car).
So I'm carrying a load of stuff in my backpack, because it's not in the safe. I am not a happy bunny.
Apart from the fact that I'm homeless now. Amazing how you can be glad about things like that, but I am. I don't live in Ponders End any more and I will probably never visit Enfield again. Next stop, Ontario!
The money is in our account.
I asked the bank to transfer funds to Canada (I think they thought I asked them to create a faster-than-light spaceship, they were a bit phased by what I wanted). Anyway, 60 minutes Deb had to sit in the car waiting for me to finish dealing with Barclays, but it's all done, and I assume the cash will be there on Monday for us.
I am currently at the hotel at Heathrow, which boasts that it was voted best business airport hotel in the world seventeen times running (or some figure similar). Within minutes I had three things to complain about. 1) They didn't have our reservation, despite me having provided a booking reference printed from the internet. 2) The room safe doesn't work, so we complained to reception who says that all safes in the building are broken due to some weird network error. 3) There's no "guide" to the hotel saying what's available, when it's open and how much it costs - or even where it is. We're in room four-thousand-and-something. Gives you an idea of how big this hotel is, and we have no idea what's on offer. Pitiful.
Did I say three? I meant four. Their internet cafe is broken, and I have to type this using their business suite, which makes me feel like I'm imposing as men in suits keep popping their head round the door saying "Will you be long?" Hmm, I'm in jeans and t-shirt, typing a blog in an business suite. They can stuff right off, I'm paying half a grand for three nights here, and I wanted better service than this. Gripe, gripe. (Oh, and their car park barrier was broken when I tried to park the car).
So I'm carrying a load of stuff in my backpack, because it's not in the safe. I am not a happy bunny.
Apart from the fact that I'm homeless now. Amazing how you can be glad about things like that, but I am. I don't live in Ponders End any more and I will probably never visit Enfield again. Next stop, Ontario!
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