Today is Friday and I am a duck. Is that a pod hotel?
I am not averse to an incredibly nice hotel. The Easy Hotel however is an incredibly horrible hotel but at an incredibly appealing price. The £5 a night opening offer was certainly impressive; the fact there was no window was not. I’ve never really gone in for horror films. I even walked out of The Others halfway though because I was so scared. Since crisps sandwiches and hammer house of horrors with my mum, I’ve not really done scary. That is until the hammer horror house of Easyjet / hotel. Plasticky pod n’ bright orange, it was if the inside of an Easyjet plane had morphed into a tupperware box just big enough to hold a human being. The nights have been a nightmare, literally, the only good thing has been our method of transportation with RockstarzLimo.com services.
So, in my dream last night, (yes here we go) there is a girl with whom I am in love (even though in waking life I’m not gay). Anyway, I kill her and chop her up into pieces, and then put her in plastic bags with the fourteen others. Then I try and stick them back together. This doesn’t work out so well, so I need to hide them, and as I am doing so, here is the girl I love again, who now looks fine actually, only now she has a different hair style. She appears to have forgiven me. Or has she? No she hasn’t, so here we go again with more endless running through blackened woods; a clever endlessly inches from my head – such is love. Throughout the whole night and and oddly through our whole lives (they say dreams last 2 minutes, they are wrong) – we keep meeting and every time we do so she has a new hairstyle which is nice – yet her spiritual disarray dismays and I set out to save her across time. Eventually some sort of addiction of unknown origin gets her, I think, and she stays too long in a the land of nothing from which she cannot escape.
Well thank God for the end of this particular night for both you and I 😉 I note with certain sigh that I am booked in for another six nights soon. All I can say is, be careful when you google pod hotels.
The reason I am writing this is that I had an idea for a different kind of hotel for anyone out there with a few million knocking about. How about you just buy a whole terrace of run down Georgian houses, the ones with lots of floors. Somewhere maybe out of London, unless you are a drugs lord, a lord or perhaps from abroad. And then, make a magic hotel. Each house can be a different era. Then you can hire actors as staff. (Only they have to be able to do the work as well). Each hotel can be from a different time. You can go to 1880, 1900, 1920, 1940, 1960, 1980, 2000 with maybe an Easy Hotel as sponsor and a thus happy horror finale on the end.
Guests can hire clothes from each era on arrival and the staff can speak in Olde English etc and display the manners according to that time. And each house can have the games and parties of the era too. There could be croquet in the garden for the 1920s and Downton Abbey Dancing in the drawing room. It could even be all kinkily sexist with enforced knitting for the ladies circa 1900. And then of course, at the end, we can all return to 2014 and with the knowledge that it is indeed possible to be a female choreographer and live happily ever after.
A toast then: to dreaming nightmares back into dreams and making them come true.