November 13, 2006

(Repost)

"It's okay," said the guy behind reception. "It happens all the time."

But I didn't believe him.

Not really.

Not least of all because I was, at that moment, somewhere around 5am on Saturday morning, entirely naked but for a curtain tie-back just about covering my most netherest of nether regions.

In a hotel.

At the blog meet.

***

Let me just say this:

Nixie is an absolute bloody star. Honestly - how nice can one person be? Gorgeous, scrumptious, stunning, lovely - I could go on. Just... ace. Mark - you're a lucky man.

Lyndzzz - I am appalled that I was that pissed I didn't get to say goodbye. Or, worse, that I did say goodbye and I can't remember. Either way - I was so pleased you got there, met with everyone, and were every bit the sincere and decent and charming person I hoped you would be.

Subzzz - Aw. My friend. A sweetheart. Really. Memo to those out there: This girl has heart, and sincerity. My advice? Find it...

Avrilo: A bit like Ronseal, it's everything it says on the till. She's just bloody marvellous. And so, by the way, is Mr Avrilo. A charming, charming man. They go wonderfully together, and it's just great to see, basically. Thank you, Ms A - and thank you both for traversing the entire fucking country. Great company - hope to see you again.

Molt: Now, regular readers will know I'm occasionally slightly cynical. Well, if you're expecting that, look away now: If (heaven forbid) anyone put me in the trenches, this is a man you'd have alongside you. Loyal, decent, funny, gentle - a true gent, actually. Molty? You put me to shame.

Sixpence and Morelearning: Sixpence let me down, I have to say. There I was, expecting Phileas from the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers to walk in, and instead this dazzling blond little bundle of sexy fun walks in and bowls us all over. And - just to make matters worse - in lounges her handsome and intelligent man, more northern than Zeds himself, and certainly more learned (hence the name, I now realise.) Stars. Absolute fucking stars. And when you see two people so in love, and so suited to being in love, well, it just moves you, you know? Loved 'em to bits. (But Shakespeare is definitely still shit ;) )

Fatal: You've seen the blog, heard about the hair, worried about the boots. And you were right, too. She's fucking terrifying. She's also extraordinarily funny, too. And her eyes twinkle like those of a mischevious child; like dangerous Christmas lights or dodgy garden lamps. This is not just a Scouse thing: Really, she's lovely.

Abilene: Hehehe. Now, I like this woman. She knows how to kick ass and to kick it proper. There are things I would like (nay, love) to write, but I won't, because she has her own story to tell, but suffice it to say, she knows how to have a good time. She also knows how to order champagne. She also knows how to entertain. Kisses to you, honey.

Kay: Stunning. Stunning. Stunning. More of which later. But I'm absolutely bloody smitten. It happens, you know...

***

So it's just before 5am.

I'm very drunk, and I've just woken up.

I need a wee.

So, eyes half closed, lights off, I haul my spindly naked frame out of bed towards the toilet.

I open the door, step inside, close it behind me.

I open my eyes.

I am not in the toilet.

I am in the hotel corridor.

And I am naked.

Very, very naked.

I turned around, a little dazed. Knock on the door. The, um, other occupant is fast asleep.

I, on the other hand, am not.

And I'm still naked.

In the corridor.

So I walk up and down the corridor, thinking that, if I concentrate enough, I will create some kind of magic karma that will allow me, by osmosis, to slip through the wood of the door and back into bed.

It doesn't, somewhat unhappily, work.

So I carry on walking.

Balls cupped in one hand, non-arse half covered by the other.

I find a stairwell.

In the stairwell, on a landing, there are curtains. With tiebacks.

I remove one, and fashion it around my genitals.

It's not a good look, admittedly, but it certainly beats what was on offer just seconds previously.

I traipse down the stairs. Into reception.

"Sorry," I say, "I've locked myself out."

"Don't worry," says the guy. "It happens all the time."

I'm thinking: You're lying, aren't you?

But anyhoo, he hands me a key. So, still clutching this tieback around my bollocks, I casually wander back to the stairs.

I get back to the first floor. Whereupon I can't remember the room number.

So I go back down again.

Like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Dropping my tieback every now and then, seeing as I'm so darn casual right now.

Receptionist guy decides to escort me to the room. Presumably, so he knows I'm actually not a weird hotel stalker-type.

Just, you know, weird.

And then I went to bed again.

And later, eventually, woke up.

Head over head over head over heels...

***

More tomorrow...