Another night...

Another night, another hotel room.

Freelance working results in days and in nights away from home.

It’s fine, well mostly it's fine.

I enjoy the variety, the difference,

on the whole.

But sometimes…

when the pillows are too hard,

or the room a little bleak.

When there’s nothing on the telly and I experience withdrawal symptoms from my new addiction to Netflix.

Another night, another hotel room.

‘Don’t you wake up confused, wonder where you are?’,

my friends ask.

But I’ve always been a traveller.

An easiness with transitoriness passed on from mum and dad.

And yet there are occasions…

when the pillows are too hard,

or the room a little bleak.

When I’d rather be on the sofa underneath the magic ‘blankie’ that always sends me to sleep.

Another night, another hotel room.

And tomorrow another train ride.

Well in fact a train, a tube train, another train and yet another, on the branch line, before home.

The journeys are good too.

I read, work, catch up with news via twitter or Facebook, sleep and possibly snore just a bit.

But sometimes…

when the trains are delayed,

or the toilets ‘out of order’.

Adrenaline lacking; the adventure is dulled.

Not to worry, I’ll soon be looking forward to the next trip.

Another night, another hotel room ….