Drying Your Bra

 Small disasters often make a few days away, funny and memorable.

I thought our train cancellation was unfortunate and symbolic of the bad luck I’ve had all this year with travel plans but after some judicious train swaps we made our superb supper reservation at the Opera House with two minutes to spare.   

Our hotel was the bijou hotel Mimi’s in soho. 

It’s central, and much cheaper than even the basic travelogues, but the rooms are comfortable ( if small) and the coffee good.

My room resembled a small, very smart one berth caravan 

Janet’s room sprang a leak through the ceiling at 4 am and the leak soaked her suitcase .

Unbeknown to me she had organised a change of rooms and had spent a merry few hours drying her bra and knickers with a hairdryer ( a video I thankfully missed because I was fast asleep)

Janet’s not a complainer but I am and I managed to get back a hefty rebate on the room by an unsmiling manager who found Janet’s wet bra tales somewhat beneath him.

The restaurant I picked on speck last night was an Italian meat place called Macellaoi and that was made special by the off duty manager who sat next to us at the bar where we managed to wangle a pre show supper. He was working on his laptop but I think noticed that the waiter was more attentive over an Á La carte group of diners than us. He took our orders then substituted bits on the menu for more expensive articles even giving us a bottle of Italian wine cheaper because the one I ordered was out of stock.

Being looked after at a restaurant is a lovely treat, and I twittered my thanks to him this morning .

It’s been a lovely few days, made better, in some ways by the bra incident which was something to laugh about.

Laughter is something I don’t find hard with my sisters 

Even though their bras may be sodden