Ah, that I could have stayed at the Dolphin Hotel for the rest of my life, but we have to move on with our lives. I didn't get a chance to visit the cocktail bar or the ballroom, which seemed slightly out of place to me in an establishment of this standard, but I imagine that back in the 1980s the Dolphin Hotel was quite the place to be seen. If you were in Swansea. And wanted a cocktail. And then some ballroom dancing. And then to throw up in the street.
But once I had had my breakfast I was out of town as fast as if I had been in Hull. It felt good to be heading home, though the journey passed in a bit of a blur and I can't remember much about it, which is a little worrying in hindsight, but soon enough I was back in beautiful Shepherd's Bush, wondering if I had any right to criticise anywhere else in the world when I lived in a place like this.
Still home is home and even though I don't have a cocktail bar and my ballroom is only really big enough for fifty or so dancers, but I still prefer it to the Dolphin Hotel, because it's mine and they let me stay here for free - apart from the Mortgage, Council Tax and all the other bills - actually probably the Dolphin Hotel works out cheaper, plus I managed to steal free wireless internet access while I was there, so maybe I should go and live there full time. They have an M&S food hall within metres of the hotel, which is all I really need to survive and dinner and breakfast was thrown in. I think I might be just about to turn the car around and go back to real home. I have never known such happiness as when I wad woken up by a seagull this morning.
It was screeching outside. It wasn't stirring in the bed next to me after a night of forbidden human/seabird love. And anyone who says it was is lying.
