Last trip to the hotel gym, unless squeeze one more in after breakfast. It’s deserted: just me on the bike. The instructor is somewhere around.
Gazing out of the window at a sky filled with billowing grey clouds. Doesn’t bode well for today’s weather. There’s the concrete behemoth of the Hilton, framed by palm trees, and to my right, out of shot, is the sea. Maybe will walk down to the beach one last time after breakfast.
Yuck. The horrible feeling of last-day-of-the-holiday, mingled with what-have-I-left-in-the-hotel-bedroom anxiety. Once, on a skiing holiday, Dad left all our passports under the bed. He didn’t realise this until we’d driven all the way down the mountain. So we had to drive back up with snow chains on the tyres.
As far as I know, my passport is packed. Had better check. That’s the sound of thunder out there, that crashing.
Can’t wait to see my fluffy monster and bury my face in his soft fur. The cattery sent the attached photo. No over-grooming or other behavioural problem has been mentioned, so fingers crossed that he had a good time and we’ll be able to go on holiday again.
The sky has gone dark. Thunder rumbles. It’s stormy out there. Rain lashes against the windows. Yellow lightning flashes and carves across the sky.
That was a sensible decision by brother not to go running this morning.
Things must check that haven’t left in room:
1. Passport. See above.
2. Phone charger.
3. Contact lenses.
5. The apples that are in the fridge at present.
7. Ray – my fluffy ray:
He hasn’t had much of a holiday. He wanted to go to the beach to meet his friends but he hadn’t been allowed to leave the hotel room. Life is cruel.
Eventually, in ten days or two weeks, will see my Seb. Can’t wait. Hope he is getting on with his dissertation and that he will finish it on time.
Happy Sunday morning everyone!
*2011. By Kenneth Hoss. A Kelli Storm detective novel, based in the NYPD homicide department.