Here are some pictures of the wonderful Hotel du Vin. You might see a difference between the ones I took and the ones I stole borrowed from their website.

This is the library. I actually sat on that sofa yesterday having my lunch, which was very me friendly and consisted of potato wedges, cheese and ham toasties, chicken wraps and salmon and cream cheese bagels. Did they know I was coming or what?

This is one bit of my room. The double baths. Hmm, though there’s one of the big bars of soap on the side which I didn’t have, I had 2 shower gel/bath soaks instead. But ooh, isn’t it lovely? That wardrobe held the mini bar goodies.

This was my boss’s room. Down the steps at the back there are steps up to the screening room. And to the right was where the bath was, again out in the open. She had three TVs too. I didn’t have a sofa though, but that’s probably cos my bed was way too big to fit one in.

The rest of my photos are on my flickr page, which is just a click to the right, for those who don’t know. But if you’d like a more interactive (but slightly dark) tour, then please fell free to view and mock my first ever video on youtube:

I have just got back from our sales conference in Cambridge. Am tired. And after 2 days eating stupidly rich food I think my body doesn’t quite know what to do with itself. But I will start by saying this: Oh. My. God. That hotel is the most amazing hotel I have ever stayed in. We were in the Hotel du Vin. It’s beautiful. When I die, and if there’s a heaven, I would quite like it to look like the Hotel du Vin. Except with staff who look like Jake Gyllenhaal.

After a 3 and a half hour trip in the car from London (we moved 4 miles in 2+ hours because of the traffic, even though we left early), I was about losing the will to live. And then we got there and I stepped into my room and all worries left my little head. My bed was huge. HUGE!! I say. I could lay across it width ways, stretch my arms above my head, and still not have any of me hanging off the end, and I am pretty tall. And the linen. I want the linen. And the pillows that mould to your head. At night I lay in the middle and stretched out and it was just bliss on a whole other scale. If I could somehow have fit that bed in a Mary Poppin’s-esque bag I would have.

And! Two baths, in my bedroom. Not bathroom, bedroom. You go up a step and there’s a wet room floor and two deep deep baths facing each other. I guess if you have a loved one you can take baths at the same time and talk. Sadly I didn’t have time to have a bath, not that I’m really much of a bath person anyway, but I might have given it a go. The tv even turns around so you can watch it while in the bubbles.

I got very excited about the mini-bar but decided possibly the £4.00 jar of jelly beans and £1.50 Mars Bar might have come out of my own pocket, so managed not to. Was even more excited by the fact that there was real milk in the fridge and not those horrid carton thingys that are gross.

And we should all have someone bring us breakfast, with lovely croissants and toast and jam and the biggest pot of tea ever. I have had so much tea the past two days I think I’m becoming even more addicted. If that’s possible.

For once there was lots of food that I liked, for lunch and dinner, which is so unusual. And I had the best sticky toffee pudding I have ever had in my life. It was divine in the extreme.

So, if you are ever in Cambridge and feel like treating yourself, I recommend this hotel. And ask for either the Wolf Blass room (which was mine) or Brown Brothers (this was my boss’s and she had her own screening room, complete with lounge chairs, big screen and play station). Another room had its own well, but that would have caused me more worry than anything else I think.

I’ve come home with 6 bottles of various toiletries and so will at least be smelling like the Hotel du Vin for some time to come.

My run last night was hard. I think maybe just as hard as when I first started, and I don’t really know why. I just couldn’t find my stride, and my legs were killing me (I’m hoping it’s not shin splints), alternating between feeling like lead and feeling like jelly. My last run was Friday, so it’s not that long ago. Humph. Hope it doesn’t continue like this, I was doing ok.

After that I was at the ’so-tired-cannot-stop-yawning-nor-have-coherent-thought state, and attempted to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Then, at 4 am, I was woken up by the weirdest sound, coming from above me (there’s another flat up there). The best I can explain it is like someone was carrying a half full plastic container of water across the room and back again, so it made a sloshy/echo sound. I know, weird. And then there was rustling. I decided either it was the pipes, or a huge rat in the walls that was going to burst out and gnaw on my face while I slept. Because I was sleep deprived and have a stupidly active imagination, I decided it was the latter, and so sleep did not come easy.

I still don’t know what it was, but I get to spend the next two days in a fancy hotel, so I’m not worrying about it. If a giant rat attacks the place, the flatmates can deal with it.

I have decided that half the battle of feeling like a grown up is to act the part. And so, I put on my smart clothes, I put on my serious face, I stopped watching the Team America clip (this was key), and I did not embarrass myself.

Why was I meeting Hans Blix? It was a work thing. And I managed to shake his hand and say hello without tripping up or saying anything inappropriate. Then I sat through a 2 hour lecture on nuclear weapons which is enough to sober anyone up. It was really interesting and he’s a great speaker and answered questions afterwards too. I know little about anything, but when one person asked about nuclear weapons deterring terrorists, so getting rid of them would be foolish, and referring to 9/11 even I had to boggle. He’d basically answered his own question right there. They can’t be much of a deterrent when the US was hit so badly. Please.

Anyway, very interesting evening. Then on my way home I got the bus and the driver didn’t seem to believe in using the brakes, or at least not softly, and so when he turned the corner at ridiculously fast mph I was ejected from my seat. I then spent the rest of the ride clinging on for dear life and trying not to let my head smash against the side.

Grown up Teabelly had left the building.

You’re going to meet Hans Blix, and all you can think of is this:

Do not call him Mr Brix…Do not call him Mr Brix…

On my mp3 player, nicely settled back to back, I listen to men sing about the wonders that are American women. This got me to thinking, where are the songs about British women, huh? Are we not inspiring men to write songs about us? Are we not interesting enough, pretty enough, cool enough? Or have I just missed them?

The songs in question are Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, American Girl, and Counting Crows, American Girls. There’s also American Woman, which springs to mind, either by Lenny Kravitz or…someone else, depending on your preference (or age). And California Girls. A bit of a Google search shows there are lots more that are similar. For us, you can find some that have obscure references to London, but none spring immediately to mind when I try to think of them, there’s no rousing chorus hiding anywhere in my brain.

Adam Duritz’s American Girls are all weather and noise. Tom Petty’s were raised on promises. What would British Girls be? Would they make reference to our lack of sunlight, our pasty legs, and if written by an American they’d mention our bad teeth I’d bet, (which, sidebar, can’t we get over this now? We have dentists!) or possibly make mention of Cockney rhyming slang. Oh! They could talk about our love of tea! And biscuits. And…er…hmm, even I’m having trouble thinking of something worthwhile about us to stick in a rocking song, so maybe it’s no wonder there haven’t been any.

I’m not totally sure how I feel about being a billboard for Tesco, but seeing as it’s for a good cause I guess it doesn’t matter.

I went for a run this evening and do seem to be running further and walking less (except when a fly decided to hit me dead in the eyeball, that kinda knocked me off my stride). I do think I need to add some more time/distance to my running, and push myself a bit harder, loathe as I am to admit that. My calf and shin hurt quite a lot though, which I could do without.

Totally unrelated: I just made the best poached egg on toast ever. *Takes a bow*

It’s such a good thing I’m running now:

These are not going to last long. Mmmm nom nom.

Things I could have done without seeing on my way to work this morning:

Man standing on his balcony stark bollock naked.

Dude, seriously, be aware of your surroundings. Buses go past you all day.

For the past couple of days I’ve been feeling a little like I have fallen head first into some sort of awful parallel universe, where up is down, left is right, and not a whole lot makes sense. As a Buffy fan I suppose I should make some comment about a hell dimension, but wasn’t Joss fairly pointed in his ideas on Hell on Earth? I digress. But then I do that a lot.

So Boris Johnson is the new Mayor of London. I am hoping once again that my initial views on this will be squashed, that I will eat my words, that he will not make nearly as big a mess of things as I am anticipating. But really I want to scream ‘London, what were you thinking!?’ Yes he’s amusing, yes I can understand why people have little faith in Ken, but come on, have we not seen first hand that giving a buffoon some power leads to no good? So yes, attempting to remain open minded, not really succeeding.

As for other things, well, in the past two days certain ideas have been reinforced. Bad things happen to good people. This we know. But bad things usually happen to good people you don’t know, and have never met. If we felt for every stranger we saw on the news we’d all go insane. It’s a selfish act of self preservation, but it’s there nonetheless. Seeing people’s names on the news that you know? Well, that does hurt. And hit home. And it will never make sense to me.

Perhaps rewatching season 6 of Buffy was just not the best idea. However, there are things that make other things seem a little better:

* It’s a bank holiday. No work today. Sunday was actually less of a downer than usual, as I loved knowing I had another day of sloth ahead of me.

* Pepperidge Farm cookies. My friend knows me well. They have come far, but soon they will be in my tummy. Best place for them, oh yes.

* Films. Gone Baby Gone was excellent but I really should be a detective because I am still figuring things out way before these so called experts in the movies.

* Potential new TV show in the form of Gossip Girl. ITV2 is having a marathon today to catch up so I think I will give it a go.

* My birthday is looming. I will be going home that weekend and I’m looking forward to it.

* It’s only a four day week, which I can surely get through, yes?