It's 6.30am in London. From my suite at Batty Langley's in the now-fashionable Shoreditch area, I can hear the slight pitter patter of rain outside. Jet lag has kicked in.
In the private lounge that's part of my suite I peruse a quaint library of beautifully aged books and settle on Everybody's Book of Fate and Fortune by Edward Lyndoe, published through Oldhams Press, 1935. There are books everywhere here and I love it.
While I sit on a cushy, soft, leather sofa, Ed teaches me about Astro-suggestion, how to read my palm (not an overly fortunate one, as it turns out...but I beg to differ) and other things like Arithmancy and the Oracle de Napoleon. Ed sounds a very respectful chap.
I think about having a soak in the large, ceramic claw foot bath that regales my oversized, floor heated bathroom - but decide against. Instead, I wrap myself up in a big, fluffy Batty Langley's robe, climb up onto the bed that's as high as my waist and read through the humble 24 hour room service menu.
Breakfast ordered last night is due to arrive at my requested time of 9am. I was excited to see green smoothie on the menu but I'm already wondering whether it's going to be enough - although something tells me it wouldn't be a problem if I asked for something else at Batty Langley's.
I miss a Facebook call because I'm writing this post and at once appreciate the joys of having excellent wifi while in a room that makes you feel certain you'll see a horse and cart pass by if you peek out the window past the heavy, opulent drapes.
Everything is still. It's my first morning back in London. And I'm not in a rush to go anywhere.
