www.pryordurkin.com

It’s been a quiet week for me having been working at home.  No travel by train, no being herded along on the underground and no being fed bad food in a sad boring hotel room.  One of the benefits was finding the time to get a decent haircut from Cube in York, where Alex, my stylist promptly remarked on how he thought I’d lost weight.  This was either a genuine comment (doubtful), clever marketing that would engender continued custom (he need not worry) or a result of interesting lighting in the salon. 

Regardless, I was happy and feel sure Paul (like many of you) will confirm I just get better looking each day!

As you know I am never one to harp on about my ailments or complain about being under the weather.

But…… 

I’m all alone in London and suffering the most awful sore throat imaginable.  I blame all those rude and inconsiderate people who travel by Tube and Train for my predicament and if I were Prime Minister would make it an offence punishable by one week in public stocks for anyone who coughed or sneezed without a handkerchief.

I’m hoping the night nurse will see me through till morning until I can find someone who’ll listen to me moan all day about my Man Flu and perhaps offer me just a tiny little piece of sympathy.

Poor me…. and er yes…. OK I do harp on….

Our holiday in Cyprus ended as it had begun; in style.  We finished our final day with a four hour session in the Spa. Two Pampered Poofs having the full works (Thanks Lee  ), we started with the full Thermai Experience that includes a variety of heat rooms and ice rooms followed by a deep tissue Indonesian Massage for Paul and a Australian Aboriginal Kodo Massage for Michael, followed by an early evening dinner where to our complete joy (Marg will understand why), we met up again with Thomas, the stunning waiter we met working at the resort last year.  We pointed out that we remembered him for his good service (and stunning good looks - but we whispered that bit!) and we think he remembered us and our Australian friend! Our week was complete ;-)  We will load the photographs into our gallery soon.

Wrapping up we headed off to the airport, content with our lot and having completely forgot about how cruel the pyordurkin effect can be at times. 

The plane boarded on time; we had good seats and we set off ahead of schedule.  We even landed in Gatwick 15 minutes ahead of time.   This is when it all went horribly wrong and we just knew the pryordurkin effect was now also back from it’s holidays.

It started with us having to wait 15 minutes on the plan while they found some steps for us to disembark.  The heat and temperature of the passengers was rising when we eventually started to move.  The babies and kids by this point were tired, crabby and playing up. We got onto the buses to be hearded back to the airport terminal to find massive queues at passport control.  Thirty minutes after landing we eventually got through passport control to then discover a problem with EasyJet baggage handlers. Apparently they were ’surprised’ by the arrival of six ’scheduled and on time’ flights arriving within the same hour and were therefore unable to off load the luggage from each plane as it arrived.  Utter chaos….  By this point there were screaming kids, it was 2.30am and my temper was well past its best.  Having landed at 12:50am we eventually got out of Gatwick baggage pick up area two hours later to then discover…. wait for it, there is more…. that the first shuttle bus to our hotel would not leave until 3.16am.  So in the freezing cold (5 degrees) we stood around waiting and waiting and waiting.  I was cursing and swearing under my breath by this point.  Of course the shuttle bus was late!.  When it did arrive I was ready to draw blood as we took our seats.  The driver then gently informed us that he would be making a small diversion on the way to our hotel, via the depot to change drivers.  Apparently he had finished his shift.  I was incredulous..

Falling into our hotel beds at 4.00am having landed at 12:50am I was too wound up to sleep, so tossed and turned for the next few hours eventually giving up and jumping into the shower at 9.30am telling Paul to get up, it was time for breakfast.

A brief respite over breakfast was had.  It was served up in the hotel which I’ll review later, by two nice ladies and we checked out ready to continue our journey home…..

We got to the railway station at Gatwick to discover the trains were not running through to Kings Cross today due to engineering works.  Instead we would have to get off at London Bridge and drag our cases through the underground, which of course, was jam packed by other miserable looking travellers.  Eventually getting to Kings Cross, now hot and sweaty, we boarded the train to York and took our first class seats (by this point I was ready to pay anything to avoid people and get home in comfort).

The train arrived into York having sat outside for five very long minutes while a platform became free. As soon as it did crawl in, we legged it to the taxi rank and joined what seemed like tens of thousands of other people trying to leave York by road.  It was a long journey that hit pretty much every red traffic light on the way out of the City centre.

We finally arrived at home sweet home……  Wait.  That is not the end of it…..

Opening the letters that had piled up while away I spotted an invoice for the windows we’d recently had repaired.  Instead of the £300 we were ‘verbally quoted’ it was now asking for £800!  Words cannot describe…….

So anyway, there you have it, we’re back home from a wonderful holiday in a wondereful hotel on a wonderful island, to find life returns to normal with a bang.

I legged it from the office yesterday wishing them fun while I’d be away, to meet up with Paul at Kings Cross who had just arrived having returned from his conference in Switzerland via Heathrow.  With minutes to spare we managed to bag a couple of seats on the 4.00pm train to York.  As we settled in, Paul was keen to get back on line and check the Internet to see what I had been blogging all week.  He hadn’t quite realised just how much attention the story of Fred and the double bed had been getting. It was fun watching his face :-)  I enquired how the parting from his room Buddie had gone earlier that morning and apparently their last few shared words included “we probably won’t see each other again..”. 

The end of a good story.  What will I blog about now?

Expecting to work in London the early part of this week and packing my suitcase accordingly, I now find myself on the 5.30pm train from Kings Cross back to York this evening.  The only downside is Paul is still away in Switzerland so this rare occurrence of my being at home mid-week will only be enjoyed by our two cats, who I am sure will show excitement and pleasure at my walking through the front gates when I eventually arrive back just after 8pm.  Of course this does also now present me with the problem of what to cook for dinner.  I don’t normally have to think of such things during the week when living out of a hotel room with restaurants nearby and room service a phone call away.

The moon, stars and planets must all be aligned at the moment, because the effects of combining a Pryor and a Durkin are truly kicking in today.  The morning started with me asking when I woke up; “Why does the clock say 5.40am?”, followed by, “Why didn’t the alarm go off?”.  We had set the alarm for 4.30am because Paul needed to catch the 6am train from York to get to Heathrow for his flight to Switzerland.  I won’t repeat what Paul said, when I repeated (and this time he heard me say) “Why does the clock say 5.40am?”

Having accepted the 6am train was no longer an option, we checked the train timetable and realised that with a bit of luck the 7am train would still get Paul to Heathrow in time for his flight.  So we got ready and headed to the station after a spot of breakfast. 

Having bought the tickets at the station, the lady then kindly pointed out that there were service restrictions today and the train that normally takes two hours to get to London, would take three hours as it was going via Leeds.  She added for good measure that the 6am train was not affected and had run on time! I pointed out to her that she was not helping our mood.

Paul’s face sank. He would miss his flight.  We um-med and arr-ed a bit and then realised the only way was for me to drive him to Heathrow.  Thankfully the roads were quiet and I dropped Paul off at the new Terminal 5 just after 10am, turning round to drive straight back home again.

Paul caught his flight and had landed in Switzerland before I was anywhere near home.  The traffic coming back was horredous with holdups being caused by the repairs to the carriageway at the spot where we saw a car veer of the road and into the barriers, on our way down!  (the other side we might add!)

Question. What happened to good manners and polite society?

Example A)

I sat for breakfast at my little square table this morning.  To my right was a young girl.  Within minutes of sitting down, two other young girls sat at a table to my left.  You get the picture by now.  I was in the middle.  Did that stop them talking about last nights shag or how much they drank and who they fancied; at the same time leaning backwards and forwards so as to see each other past me.  Not a bit of it.  I gave it a couple of minutes thinking they would realise how rude it was to talk over/past/through someone.  Five minutes later, they clearly had no concept of how rude this was.   I could take it no more.  I asked in a slow voice, with a face like thunder, whether they had any concept of what was rude.  Looking completely blank, with mouths ajar, they didn’t need to tell me the answer.  With that they left looking back in a way only teenage girls can. 

Example B)

On Monday as I sat on the train praying for a quiet event free journey, a large weathered gentleman whose nose betrayed the drinking of far too much red wine over his time on this planet sat down opposite.  The next thirty minutes (and to be frank I have no idea how I lasted this long) were full of him, snorting, sneezing, sniffling, coughing and clearing his disgusting throat using a combination of sleeves and ‘what looked like’ green hanker chiefs.  I had to move to another carriage before running the risk of throwing up.

Answer.  They are long gone.

PS.  You couldn’t make this up!  I’ve just been joined at my table on the train home by two race going gentlemen at Doncaster.  Dressed in suits, but clearly drunk, the last ten minutes have included more swear words than I have heard all week.

Me Grumpy? …….

Most weeks I haul my small petite behind onto York Railway station platform to catch the train to London.  What has become a ritual this time of the morning, is my standard Latte from the AMT Coffee Kiosk in the main concourse.  Staffed usually by three Polish girls, I am constantly amazed at just how efficient they are in serving grumpy customers like me.  I rarely see a queue and this is not because people don’t buy their coffee; quite the reverse; it seems to be the most popular concession at York Railway.  The lack of a queue is down to just how professional these staff are in serving up an amazing variety of drinks from a kiosk that is smaller than my wardrobe.  I remember a few years back, the reality TV programme that followed the two brothers who set up AMT Coffee and the struggle they had in the early days.  What appears to be in place now, is a very well oiled and amazingly efficient business model.  How they pack so much equipment serving up so many differing drinks and snacks into such a small space, never ceases to amaze me. 

The coffee itself is also reasonably good and compared to Starbucks, way ahead in terms of taste and quality.

Rating: 4 Stars. (Primarily because of the consistently fast efficient and friendly service)

I’ve literally just passed through Doncaster Railway Station on the East Coast Main Line and felt a little scared.  At both ends of the platform were big middle aged blokes; some standing, some sitting on little fold away chairs, with small notebooks and cameras in their hands noting the number of my train.  A few were wearing plastic Macintosh coats and had flasks and little tupperware boxes with sandwiches in.

I don’t know about you, but every East Coast Main Line train I have been on over the last couple of years has looked the same.  Engine at either end (sometimes electric, sometimes Diesel) and a lot of carriages with miserable looking people standing and sitting throughout.  What is it about trains that gets so many people sitting and standing on platforms taking notes.  I’d love to know.

Checking in was fairly straight forward but there was no warmth or ‘make you feel at home’ welcome from the trainee staff on reception. The much heralded Priority Club loyalty scheme was not much in evidence either. Being a platinum member doesn’t account for much it seems. A complimentary newspaper was never offered let alone a sniff of the room upgrade they constantly promote in the priority club literature.

I headed off to my room in the concrete square that is the Holiday Inn Regents-Park. The room was OK and looked like any other Holiday Inn room. Closing the curtains on the building site outside, you could be almost anywhere in the UK.

The TV worked and the air conditioning chugged away. The selection of pillows was plentiful and the room was functional and clean although it amazed me just how small one bathroom can be while still being functional.

Ordering room service I recalled the quality of the food served at the Radisson Edwardian Grafton Hotel and hoped this would be of a similar nature. Within half an hour I was to be disappointed. The food was crap.  What I don’t understand is on top of the inflated meal prices they also add a ‘Tray Charge’ of £2.50 onto your bill.  The room service waiter was friendly enough though and I felt a momentary pang of guilt as I said goodnight without tipping.

The bed is comfortable and I hope a reasonable night sleep lies ahead.

I’m not holding out much for breakfast though as it will no doubt be the same quality as my room served food.

Score: 3 Stars.