Oh My Darlington

Short blog today for once again I am resorted to blogging by the tPhone. This is not too much of a loss as I really haven't done all that much after escaping the horrors of the flat in Newcastle. After making it to Darlington, a feat which sounds easy but was almost dangerous thanks to a stray stag do and a woman who looked like Grotbags in the service station, I have been chilling at the rather nice Banatynes hotel. It is rather nice too, in that rather nice way where you emphasise 'rather' and really work on giving sarcastic smiles to short, smelly, beardy men who've just arrived from Newcastle. I love being in posh hotels but I always can't help but feel that I probably shouldn't even be here. This was made no more evident than this morning when I asked if I could have the eggs poached as part of my full English breakfast. The waiter man did a little smirk and said 'of course' as though I'd just asked the biggest idiot question ever. I did have to backtrack and check in hadn't just asked if I could 'breathe the air' or if it's ok to eat the food when it arrives. Past that blip though, brekkie was pretty good. I've never had a partially English breakfast. I'm assuming this is where they sneak a croissant in and the BNP and Daily Mail readers start shouting.


I'm starting to get pins and needles from stupidy phone typing so will do a double blog tomorrow to compensate when I am back in the comfort of the T Flat. Till then some quick notes:


The shower here is amazing. I am aware though that after the shower in Newcastle, an elephant pissing on me would seem like great shower, as long as it was at least luke warm.

Saw Pete Firman's preview again last night. It was, once again, amazing even though I am now sure he is a witch.

Also saw Justin Moorhouse's preview which was also brilliant and has a really really good ending. Nice to meet him in the real world too where he doesn't just speak in 140 character bursts.

No matter how hard you try to pull a face at dinner that says 'seriously I'm fine with eating by myself. I'm not lonely, just busy, that's it, busy.' It will always come across as 'help me, I'm so alone.' Or in my case 'I smile unnecessarily due to brain damage.' Still the staff have been very nice as a consequence.

The keyring on my hotel key is like a big brass doorstop. I assume this is to stop people accidentally taking them. I however am considering stealing it to keep as a weapon should zombies attack.

As this is a Banatyne's hotel, owned by Mr Dragon's Den Duncan B himself, as I check out I am going to say 'I'm out', as I bet the staff haven't heard that every bloody single day.

That's all for today. I'm in Eaglescliffe tonight which sounds like a battlescape from Lord of the Rings. Pete Firman is on so I suppose with me and him it is a bit like Gandalf and Bilbo heading there for a quest. I, however, won't be looking for anyone's ring.