Hotel innards when nobody else is around, those quiet spaces just around the corner from where people are being busy seen from various angles. Nothing unusual here but it's probably all kicking off somewhere else. There's a wedding in the new complex, sandwiches are being handed out with bubbly and disdain. Welcome to Fred and Jenny's big Thursday afternoon wedding, it may last till the weekend if they can keep their heads.
There's wet floors around and there's swimming lessons in the steamy pool, the gym has a few die-hards dying, where there may be some worked up sweat or injuries later. Butterflies broken on the cruel healing machines that promise new bodies, not for the likes of me. No sneaking and peeing on the showers and even bald people wear bathing caps. The towels are just that little bit too small and regularly dropped on the changing room floor. Socks still refuse to fit feet.
Over in the bar there are meals and jumping children, survivors from funerals and training days, people pretending to do business, golfers badly dressed as golfers checking each other's sporting goods, guests counting down the hours, staff hover and clear up other people's mess and phones silently charge. Food floats by on silver trays, every choice looking better then your own until your platter arrives, hot and saucy and coloured with sauces and unplanned vegetables. Kick back afterwards and sup slow beer.
In the open foyer a coach load of confused travellers has arrived and then spews out luggage and more brightly coloured anorak shaped people, set free from the confines of the bus, now they can roam new corridors like buffalo herds. Everybody has way too much luggage and each fresh move is a struggle and the lift remains well hidden and best avoided. Taxi drivers stand guard outside, ready to pounce with offers and advice and thank the weather gods for the advancing rain clouds. Too wet to walk. Nobody wants to get wet on holiday and so we stay dry, back in the busy wee bar.
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