So that was Dundee and what a hoot was had by all, including one unsuspecting gentleman. My room was the very last in the corridor, by the fire escape.
Client number three announced his arrival by phone ( by then I was fairly tired ) so I dusted myself down, applied lip gloss and headed to the door. There was a peephole on the door which looked into the corridor and how I could tell said client was approaching was when the heavy fire door half-way down the corridor banged shut.
Through the peephole I spied him, a suited and booted guy approaching so I opened the door in a black satin robe, stockings, "fecking hell" hair, massive heels and a grin that would put any Cheshire cat to shame.
Fabulous, except he wasn't my client but the guy staying in the room opposite.
Whoops.
To make matters worse, after said innocent hotel guest had almost impaled himself on his briefcase handle with the fright, REAL client showed up and hammered on my door, bellowing ...
"LAURA !!"
I could have lynched him, but as it turns out we have a lot in common, mainly a deep love of animals. I've long thought that if I could surround myself with animals for the rest of my life I would be the happiest woman on earth, it's people I find difficult ( with some notable exceptions, of course ). The reasoning behind it is this, animals don't bitch - they don't know how to. It's one of two reactions -
1. You fed me and rubbed my belly, ergo I love you and I'm going to lick you, whether you like it or not.
2. You annoyed me / stood on my paw, ergo I'm going to bite you, HARD. It's OK though, because we'll be friends again within the hour.
See ? Simplicity at it's most splendid.
So, Mr. Client was telling me ( in the after-glow ) that for many years he has been a long haul driver, ( he was just passing through ) all achieved with a very small and very cute companion in the shape of a terrier. He LOVED that dog, they travelled all over Europe together and were inseparable. One weekend he noticed the dog was not himself and was off his food, so he decided to keep an eye on him and postpone his boy's night out. By the second night, the poor creature couldn't make it up the stairs, so this man, all 6 foot 2 of him, brought the dog's bed downstairs to the fireplace in the living room and curled up beside him to sleep. At some point during the night the dog gave a couple of loud yelps and was clearly in pain so my guy held him close and said "Close your eyes son, it's time to go".
Sure enough, by morning time the dog had passed away. By the time he had finished his tale, both myself and my guy were sitting on the side of my bed, sobbing uncontrollably, made worse by the fact that he had pictures of him on his phone to accompany the narrative. All in all, it was a very surreal experience and I really hope he bites the bullet and gets another puppy.
Back to normality then ( whatever that is ) and I'm preparing for my tour to Perth next week before I go on sabbatical for a bit. I really don't know how long I'll be away as yet but I plan to get back to the wonderful world of floozying as soon as I can. Meanwhile I face the enormous task of trying to get my books in order for my accountant, this year I have decided to be ruthless and claim for every can of diet coke and snickers consumed whilst on tour which means I have a mountain of receipts to be sorted through. To compound my anxieties, The Mother has announced her intention to conduct the bi-annual inspection during my time off too, so I will be on a cleaning frenzy to boot. Marvellous.
Catch up with you fae Perth.
LL xx
