Snooze You Lose

Attend hectic wine and cake retirement party at work for jolly decent long-standing member of staff who joined when the Bay City Rollers were topping the charts.  

 

After party end, jolly decent long-standing member of staff and I marooned with bags of gateaux and madeleines in lift, which breaks down between basement and ground floor, possibly due to weight of cakes.  Have only had three glasses of wine, but wonder how long bladder can hold out. Also, obviously will not be going hungry, but can definitely feel oxygen evaporating.  Wonder how long before all oxygen used up. Long-standing member of staff says there is air coming through cracks by lift door. Stick nose into cracks. Wonder if can lever off Perspex roof and climb up lift shaft like Bruce Willis in Die Hard 2 or 3.

 

Released by cheery engineer and security man 45 minutes later.  Now 9.30 pm.  Long-standing member of staff  and I  escape gratefully into night air, leaving via rear car-park where super-amused party-goer lying flat on back on tarmac screeching like demented budgie.

 

Somewhat tired and emotional, get late Guildford train by mistake at Clapham Junction and pay for it severely.  As have fallen into exhausted slumber, only ricochet awake at Surbiton, just too late to react to tannoy announcement that this is Guildford via Hinchey Wood train.  Eight obscure stations in far flung rural outposts of Surrey now lie between me and civilisation (Guildford).  Will have to go to Guildford (hour away) as too dodgy to get off at any of the micro-stations in between such as Clandon, Effingham Junction and Stoke D’Abernon – places have not even visited in broad daylight let alone past 11 at night. Realise life about to get v unpleasant.

 

Position not improved due to having no money on person, and only portions of cut up credit card in pocket as on economy drive.

 

Get to Guildford in time to miss last connection back to Esher.  Get train to Woking in time to miss train for Surbiton that would connect with train coming to Esher from Waterloo.  Nice ticket inspector says no problem when explain situation re lack of ticket/money.

 

Ring S who live in Woking. No reply.  As sure is Hilton in Woking (not that can afford even if have money), set off from station into deserted streets. No sign of Hilton.  Find Holiday Inn, like oasis in dark desert, and gratefully trot in.  Bloke on reception eyes me suspiciously.  Explain situation, re trains, money, credit card.  Ask for room. Told no room, absolutely full. Express incredulity as this weekday in Woking in April, not Saturday in July in St Tropez.  Ask if can stay in lounge.  Bloke say no as security risk.  Told all other hotels full also.  Not like this in ‘Pretty Woman’. Sweep out magisterially.  Fortunately, huzzah, S rings and comes to rescue.

 

Get home 1.30 am. Will have to have dinner for breakfast.

 

 

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