A Tour of the Facilities

In case it has not been obvious in the last three weeks: a short blog post means I've been writing with my iPod, a long one means I got to an Internet cafe.

After we were more or less done with London, we went to York for a few days, which turned out to be a mistake, but more on that in the near future. The B&B at which we stayed used very nice brand of shower gel and hand soap called something like Deb....Aromatherapy (not quite sure about the number of dots in that ellipsis): the hand soap was pleasantly rosy and the showel gel a wake-up citrus.

We spent, or planned to spend, one last night in London, at the Grosvenor Hotel, just about exactly as old and hidebound as it sounds. The bahroom was huge, but the toiletries were dreadful--that gross fresh-ozonic watery floral scent that contaminates the department store shelves.

And now we have been bumped from our flight and have been put up for one last night in the Sofitel at Gatwick Airport. It's really nice, and the toiletry supplies would make you wet yourself (so it's lucky you're in the bathroom when you see them): curvy little bottles of marine-themed shower gel, shampoo, and conditioner, the last a gorgeously marbled and mottled creamy-blue substance, all smelling fresh and wide-eyed but at the same time intoxicatingly spicy, plus a square little bar of soap in a lidded box like a piece of jewellery or a truffle. In addition, there's a white ceramic box containing beautiful little grey envelopes holding cotton swabs, cotton pads for I guess makeup removal, and emery boards. I'm taking the lot. (Well, not the box, obviously.) If they had included a razor and a toothbrush I would just move in here permenantly.