Bournemouth, on the sunny south coast of England. Three days and four nights in a hotel where I have discovered that the bath towels are the size of a dish cloth and the hand towels are like face cloths.

I’d watch TV on the brand new Samsung flat panel that was only installed yesterday, but they seem to have misplaced the signal for all rooms on the fourth floor.

I’d browse the internet, but they charge for an hour more than I’d pay for a week (this post brought to you by The Power of Blackberry).

That leaves me with choices:
1 Write
2 Read
3 Go to bed

Too tired for 1, not tired enough for 3, so 2 it is.

Whilst contemplating my dilema I took a long, hard look in the mirror, one of the few servicible things here. Boy, do I need to lose the flab! Also, the clump of hairs that stick out of my shirt on my ever-so-manly chest are now silver, along with those at the temples and some hairs on my arms (I daren’t look any lower).

I’m becoming the Silver Fox.

But my kids probably know me as the Greying Git.