New on the list of ‘least desirable places to die’, is a Travel Lodge in Bolton. Can you think of anything more depressing? For those of you, lucky enough to have never encountered a Travel Lodge, let me enlighten you.
It’s 8:21am on a Wednesday morning, and I’m sat on what they tell me is a train. It’s nothing at all like any train I’ve been on, and reminds me more of a scratty old school bus. Yep, the two carriages of my Northern Line “train” have seen better days, but man, am I glad to be on it.
Sometimes, being wonderfully spontaneous and last minute, isn’t so wonderful after all. Take New Years Eve for example. We started planning a little trip away, on Boxing Day.
Our most recent trip was a little 2 night break to Amsterdam. We booked in on a whim (as is our style), via a Groupon deal. The actual booking was a bit stressful, as they gave you terrible flight times (getting in at 10pm on your first day, and leaving at 5am on your last day, thus getting no time…)
At the grand old age of 21, I had only been abroad twice. Once, as a small child with my best friend and her family to Greece, of which I remember mainly the pool and a restaurant that we danced in a lot, and once on a cultural exchange to Hungary as a hormone-filled tween, interested slightly more in kissing boys than learning about culture…