Now, the thing I have to point out is that I normally make the hotel reservations after we've done a little research together. However, this time Mrs. TBF ended up booking our hotel all by her lonesome while I was in Chicago to save me "the hassle" of having to do it. And...I have to give kudos where kudos are due. Mrs. TBF definitely has the skills for a backup career as a travel agent if the current gig ever goes bye-bye. We stayed at Brown's Hotel, and it was very, VERY nice! We will DEFINITELY stay there again the next time we go to London. Everything about the hotel was just great. The staff was friendly, the bar and restaurant were superb, it had a nice workout room, our room was really comfortable, the location was great...
Location...
It didn't dawn on me, until Mrs. TBF suggested shortly after my arrival on Friday afternoon that we go check out some of the shops in the area, that she had chosen this hotel specifically because of its location. Or, should I say, its convenient location/proximity to shopping? We walked about one minute away from the hotel, turned the corner, and all I saw were the signs: Channel, Burberry, Rolex, Dolce & Gabbana, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, etc., etc., ad infinitum. Suddenly, I heard her say something like: "Oh, look...there's an Etro store..." (as if she didn't know ahead of time). Before I knew it, I was fidgeting in the "husband-chair", with her purse on my lap, watching her try things on...and on...and on. Finally, after what seemed like at least ninety minutes, I kind of started rolling my eyes up into my head and suggested we leave. Here she was after her successful accumulation of "the style of Etro"! I have to admit that I also tried things on in the store and that I was a bit disappointed that I came out of the store empty-handed. Nothing really "grabbed" me, and I wasn't about to buy something just for the sake of buying it. Sensing my disappointment, Mrs. TBF suggested we stop at a pub for a quick pint on the way back to the hotel.
Conveniently, our cat* owns a pub right between the Etro store and the Brown's Hotel (who knew?). Since there was no room to sit inside, we just stood outside in the street enjoying our "cask" ales on a warm Friday evening in London.*For those of you who don't know...
Our cat's name is King. We've been doing this "thing" for years (as pet owners do) where we say that King is the head of a multinational corporation. Anytime we see a business with the name "King" in it we say that it's one of his businesses. Really, what I say is more like, "...did you know that the little Farker has a business here in London?" Then, when we go back home, we confront him about it while he "complains" to us abandoning him for yet another getaway. Did I mention that he talks with heavy Chicago accent? No? Ok...I think I'll go take my medication now.
6 comments:
I knew you had to be in the Mayfair area! Hey, new bond Street, Regent, Picadilly??? What else can you ask for?!
i sympathize with, um, King's world. My beloved dearly departed Couz and his brother Wesh, now enjoying the good life, had an entire thing going on, but i won't hog your comment box with the details. Couz definitely talked like Dave Chappelle. Plus I am convinced Wesh is metrosexual.
Sounds like it was a fun and sunny weekend.
I hate King's Chicago accent. I will not accept it nor will I cater to it.
Oh, Big Gay Wesh would have this like psychic premonition that we would be going on a trip so he would puke up a furball in a strategic location and then hide. When you found him to tell him goodbye, he would just glare and not budge (normally he is all floppy purry love love love). When you came back from aforsaid long vacation, he would sit at the top of the stairs and give the stink eye for about three days. When he was a kitten just going to the grocery store involved heartbreaking wails from him, so I think his "cool attitude" evolved from that. I am talking Dr Evil stare. How does King "complain?"
TMS-King says shut ya piehole, cuz ya stuck widdit!
DP-King complains when we get home from a trip by making this noise that we describe as "cacking" (I just looked up how to spell it in dictionary.com, and apparently there's no such word...unless I'm just not spelling it correctly). It's basically the most wretched, and annoying, meowing ever produced in the feline world. This goes on for a long time - basically until we've fed him mass quantities of food to make up for our absence. King's stink eye is permanently cemented on his face, so we're pretty much immune to that by now. However, the cacking (not cackling, mind you) is something to which our ears will never become accustomed.
Regarding the hacking up of hairballs...
This usually takes place early in the morning. It's his pitiful, yet effective, attempt to get us out of bed so that we will feed him. Often, like this morning, I hear him making the noise, and then I end up finding no hairball anywhere in the house. He's become an expert at just making the hacking noise.
He's a wise, old beast - 18 years old now!
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