I think I might live at the Holiday Inn Express on Picardy Place in Edinburgh for the rest of my life. Firstly, it's in Edinburgh, which means that I would be here all the time, which would be lush. Secondly it's right opposite the Virgin gym, which would mean I would have no excuse not to go there every day (had a great work out today - 11 stone something, here I come, probably because I will drop dead if I keep this up and that really helps the weight drop off). Thirdly it would mean I wouldn't have to rent out an expensive flat for Edinburgh (this might not prove to be cost effective - I don't know how much my room costs as someone else is paying for it - but given Edinburgh rents you might be able to strike some kind of deal. Fourthly and best of all the bathrooms (more accurately "showerrooms") have an innovative door system. Each showerroom contains a shower and a toilet that are accessed from the bedroom part by a door, as is traditional. But the door swings round and then forms a door for the toilet part of the showerroom, shutting it off from the shower. Which means that it is possible for someone to have a shower, whilst their room-mate has a shit, without the "You Can Choose Your Friends" style embarrassment of having to look each other in the eye. It's genius! And only slightly devalued by the fact that I have only ever stayed in this hotel on my own. Still, it's nice to know that the option is there should I require it. Well done Holiday Inn Express. When I am old I will retire to live here and if necessary employ prostitutes to shower whilst I defecate. And then send them on their way, all clean and untouched, though perhaps slightly unsettled by the fact the experience. The toilet is still pretty close to the shower and smells will emanate both ways. It's not a perfect system, but it beats the way people used to shower and shit back in the olden days of the 1990s.
It is good to have a retirement plan.
I am sure I had something more interesting to tell you about today, but alas it has gone from my old, "unable to remember Slaughterhouse Five" brain. All I know is that this morning I was thinking, "Well that's great, that's what I can write about in Warming Up for today" and now as I speed away from Auld Reekie (the train has internet access - how cool is that?) I have no idea what it was. Usually I lose these things through technological fuck up, but it's good to know that my brain is just as unreliable.
I was sorry to hear of the death of
Humphrey Lyttleton today, one of the funniest men on the radio and an inspirational figure, working right up to the end, his brain remaining sharp and his filthy jokes being especially funny for coming out of the mouth of an 86 year old man. Will I still be working in 46 years time? In both senses of the word "working". I hope so.
My sadness was multiplied considerably by the fact that I had selected Humph as one of the people I thought would die this year in my Celebrity Death League. It felt gauche and unpleasant and getting my first point on the board was actually a cause for remorse rather than joy. Why had I chosen someone I liked? It was a lose lose situation. Why couldn't I have gone for Charlton Heston, the gun toting idiot? I hope someone has prised the gun out of his cold, dead hands by now. I am doubly sorry.
Thanks for the laughs Humph. You will be missed, because you were truly loved by your audience. And it doesn't get much better than that.
