Last day in Rm338, last day of the excellent ham and and cheese omelette and chips in Billy's Cafe opposite. You wonder what to do, the answer, of course, with home improvements on your mind, is shopping. But I hate shopping and we're broke with the hotel and so I just walked down to SCP instead for a bit of interior design porn, which is what it is of course, and then wandered further through Shoreditch's designer pornland just like a tourist, and rather amazed, wide eyed, to be honest. What a difference a decade can make. Just when and how was 'Le Beau Velo - Made to Measure Bicycles' conceived? However I still had that Wiel Arrets Alessi kettle in my head when I popped in to the White Horse as almost it's only afternoon customer. You could think this a bit of an embarrassment, being the only bloke staring at Tina and Julia and Sylvia and Coco strip to the buff through the middle of the afternoon for a quid each, but it would hardly have been right to leave either. It was one of those conundrums. Now this is real retro I thought, as I nuzzled my mineral water and thought it immensely rude to leave. Anyway I thought, anybody who does come through the door seems to have a beard.
By the time I'd got to the pit to pick up the post and not talk to Scott about progress I was in the mood for no good news at all. Not even steeling myself with a large one I was resigned.
However, to my amazement, as I crept along the deck access I was greeted by plumes of puffing exhaust pumping healthily through the air. Fuck global warming, it's the boiler! Without even a snorkel! Tangible warmth in every way. My heart sang. Like arriving home on the plain!