It all started with that trip to Venice. Never let a woman of a certain age out of the country on her own. It can only lead to trouble. In 2004 I decided to take my first holiday alone. I stayed here - it seemed predestined and slightly amusing. According to later reviews bedbugs have taken up residence but I am sure this was nothing to do with me. It was more of a hostel than a hotel and I shared a room with a couple of young girls. We ate cold food from the supermarket because the cooker flex was too short to plug in. In the morning we were woken by fishmongers singing arias in the Campo Santa Margherita. Yes, I know that sounds made up.
That was the beginning. I went all over Europe on my own and then to Boston, which I found a bit too huge and on my last night a raccoon under the floor kept me awake.
The last two paragraphs seem to centre around bed. I'm very tired. I also got very hungover on two thirds of a bottle of champagne, probably because of the very tiredness.
Brussels today is comically windy. All the parks are shut and there are random things in the road - I saw two rolls of carpet on Rue Royale. I'd quite like to go back to bed but have meetings later today. So I'd better start looking vaguely human.