After a period of mysterious wonder, yesterday afternoon, I was finally able to discover what The Cotton Rooms, the hotel, is like. I can say, that it is much better than I thought it would be. Fancy. According to the Receptionist, the hotel or, as I like to view it, the half way house, is to the standard of a four star hotel. I believe it is indeed a four star hotel, the only difference is that it is full of sick people and their carers, with an essence of community spirit, and it is all free. Everything is free. Free, free, free. Thanks NHS. The care you provide is just marvellous.
When Big Sister and I walked into the small lobby yesterday, we were quite impressed. I am positive, absolutely positive that my first impression was heavily influenced by the air conditioning. I bloody love air conditioning, especially when it is 30 degrees outside, and every crevice is leaking.
We checked in and received a royal tour and escort to our room. This place is equipped with a lounge, dining room with two microwaves, laundry services and air conditioning. Did I mention the air conditioning? Myeloma is a small price to pay for comfort in this heat. Our room was huge, with a delightful view of the BT Tower. Unfortunately for me, it was the only room, where the AC had decided not to work. It was warmer in there, than the outside world and I made the rather unpleasant mistake of sitting on one of the leather chairs. You can imagine what happened when I stood up…. I hope they have disinfectant. And so, after a few visits from the handyman, we were transferred to another room. Essentially we were downgraded to a room half the size overlooking the Macmillan Cancer Centre. It had to be done; there was no other option. I do not think a body would want to stay in a fifth floor room, in central London where you cannot open any windows, with no air conditioning, let alone a person gong through the fake menopause. I need cool air, I’m a big girl after all.
The rooms themselves have everything a gal could want. I have wifi. Yes. I have a DVD player to go with my big TV. Yes. I have a fridge. Yes. And finally, a safety deposit box for EMan. Yes, Yes.
The breakfast isn’t bad either. Big Sister was most impressed by the fact she got a full English as well as me. I think she was less impressed by my insomnia, nor me waking her at 06:30hrs in a panic because I thought she was dead. Thank goodness we have separate beds. I wonder how Mamma Jones will fair this evening, will she appreciate the Piano soundtrack at 01:00hrs?
I am still cannot see how my transfer will work, and not knowing when it will happen makes more difficult to comprehend. How much do I unpack? How will I get to the hospital? Might I actually have to call an ambulance? Nobody knows. As nobody knows, I am just going to try to go with the flow.
It may be nice, but there will always be one place I would prefer to be. Soon, soon.