Thursday, 17 October 2013
First World Problems and a Gideon Bible
You would think, would you not, that someone like me who lives a quiet, rural and semi-pious life would anticipate a weekend in our vibrant capital city with huge excitement and, truth be told, my suitcase was packed nights before with a ridiculous amount of clothes which had Cossack eye-rolling because he only packs extra underpants and socks.
As you know, Wellington is very unpredictable - would it rain? would it sun? would it blow? would it shake? would it freeze? Every scenario must be catered for, in my opinion, and that is why Cossack skipped and I staggered to the car for our long trip south.
Anyway, here we are now, safe and sound in a semi-decent hotel, but several issues have reared their bothersome heads and I just do not know how much sleep to lose over any or all of them.
List of my Hotel -Worries
1) I don't trust the Spy-Hole in our door.
So, I got Cossack to stand out in the corridor and knock on our door. (Room 508 - but no point visiting because by the time you read this we'll be gone ) I peeped through the spy-hole and saw nothing at all except for a grey smudge which didn't resemble my Cossack at all.
The male out there muttered some stuff in a vaguely familiar voice but it didn't contain the right password
( Lindt Chocolate) so I refused him entry.
"If that IS you, Coss", I called through the smudge, "Look through this spy-hole from your side and see if you can see me? Perhaps some sicko in this hotel has turned it around for voyeuristic purposes".
Phew! The man out there could see nothing either but the verdict is sobering.
We have one very useless spy-hole. When Cossack goes to see 'Gravity' in 3-D tonight at the cinema, I am here, alone and vulnerable. I will put the chain across the door and clutch my Gideon Bible all evening.
2) There is only one Coffee-Mug.
There is only one coffee-mug for two of us so it became multi-purpose and, at various times, contained my coffee, tea, muesli and Cossack's toothpaste -water, but not simultaneously.
Should I ring reception and advise them that Room 508 contains only one mug and it isn't me?
3) High-Pressured Shower
The shower was fantastic with enough pressure to almost blast me down the plug-hole but one could not detach the shower-head from the wall so, because I did not want to wash my hair on the first night, I had to arch my head backwards in a most uncomfortable manner.
My concern is - will I ever be content again with our under-pressured shower at home where washing one's shoulder can take up to a week?
4) What Sign to hang on our door???
Before retiring for the night I agonised over which sign to hang on the outside of our door for the staff in the morning.
Should I put up, "Yes please, I would like a newspaper"?
After lengthy consideration, we decided we didn't. ( a mug would be nice though)
Should I put up, "Privacy Requested"?
Maybe, even though that might have the cleaner smirking out there while Cossack and I would actually be innocently sampling all the herbal teas out of one mug while flicking through the room-service menu to decide what we would order for breakfast if only we were richer.
In the end I opted for the sign which said, "We choose not to have our room serviced today", thereby forfeiting the luxury of fresh towels and sheets. The sign said we would be helping the environment so that was noble of us, I thought, except we didn't realise that by not getting our room serviced we also missed out on replacement teabags and coffee sachets.
Next morning, by sheer luck, the trolley that collects dirty laundry and replenishes supplies was right near the lift as we waited to go to the ground-floor so I gazed up at the ceiling to see if I was being filmed by a security-camera but no, all seemed safe, and I grabbed a handful of loot.
In my haste, however, I ended up with four shower-caps, one conditioner, no tea and only two coffees before the lift whisked us downstairs.
My heart is still palpitating and I wonder if my conscience is slightly over-active?
Now, I know there was a reason Cossack and I came to Wellington but it's escaped me. Um...hopefully I will know next time I blog.
Over and out.