© BBC

I’m writing this blog from Nottingham. Not Brighton. Nottingham.

Whatever bad luck curse it is that follows me around well and truly kicked me in the bollocks today, resulting in our much anticipated mini-break in Brighton turning into a day trip. By day trip I mean an hour spent dragging suitcases around and getting increasingly angry as time wore on. It started when we arrived at the hotel just before the two o’clock check in time to be told matter-of-factly that check in was three o’clock. It went over the guy’s head when I pointed out the superfluous nature of having a twenty four hour manned reception, but this arsehole was not going to budge. What annoyed me more than that was the total lack of apology, we couldn’t come in until three o’clock and nothing was going to make him relinquish this moment of power. It also wasn’t possible to leave our cases there while we had a wander around getting to know a bit of Brighton, how strange that such a big building didn’t have a cupboard.

We dragged our cases up a hill and found a nice place to have a coffee, and all the while Mandi kept going on about a bad feeling she had. Mandi is naturally an optimistic person and I’m the one with a bad feeling (I just assume the worse and when something good happens I can be pleasantly surprised while at the same time wondering what the pay off will be for something going right). Mandi’s bad feeling turned out to be the hotel having no record of our reservation, and despite it being November they claimed to be fully booked. By this time I was at my limit and thanked the two gormless, script reading to the letter cunts behind the reception for ruining our break and headed off. The receipts for the money we had to pay out to change our travel arrangements   are now in an envelope along with a letter to the manager of the hotel demanding that they pay. I will not let this go, and even though it is only just short of one hundred pounds I will hound them until I get it back.

This is why I don’t like holidays, when you live with a curse of bad luck hanging over you this sort of shit happens all the time. I feel as if this is some kind of career pay off; my podcast is doing really well and I have just released an audio book with another two on the way. Maybe I can’t have it both ways, if I gave up then would things go right in my day-to-day life?

This has soured my feelings towards Brighton somewhat, even though I know it isn’t Brighton’s fault and maybe when this has blown over from my memory we’ll go again, but all I wanted to do was get the fuck away back to Nottingham today.

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