World Travel Guide Online

The Roommates Get a Shock

Big Ben

“Hey Dave, I’ve found a job for you!” My roommate Glenn regarded me with an eager expression. “It’s at Kensington Hotel across the street; they need someone to work at reception.”

I was pleased to hear of the opportunity, but initial happiness turned to dread when I realised that Kensington Hotel, London fell under the same management as the Porchester, my current residence. Therefore, none other than Cornelia Trednick was the manager. I shuddered as I recalled the room party that Cornelia had spectacularly halted a couple of weeks previous.

“I dunno if I can work for Cornelia, Glenn, I’m a little bit scared of her.”

But Glenn shook his head and tried to explain that I had only ever seen her at her worse, i.e. at 2am when a pratt named Andy was riling her. I wasn’t entirely convinced but I found myself tiptoeing into Kensington Hotel that afternoon to enquire about the job. In truth, I was really keen as I liked the Bayswater area and the job offered the chance to socialise with fellow backpackers.

I entered the hotel and anxiously looked around for signs of Cornelia. The reception area was spartan, containing only two hard wooden benches, a public phone and a Coke machine. One thing that did stand out was the far wall, which was covered in brightly painted square canvasses. It gave the impression of attempting to look funky, but only succeeded in looking garish and out of place.

Upon reaching the reception desk a stern looking lady (not Cornelia) greeted me. But as I tentatively enquired about the vacant position, her face relaxed and she led me into a back office. She introduced herself as Louise, the assistant manager. Louise originated from Australia but had come to England ten years ago on a working holiday and never went home. Interestingly, she hadn’t visited Australia even once since then. Louise now wore a kindly expression, but her eyes betrayed a haggardness.

The interview commenced. Two minutes later I walked out with a job. I had been asked two questions – whether or not I had a visa and if so, the earliest I could start. It was that easy. Louise explained that she didn’t need to ask any other questions as she could quickly see I had people skills (awww) and every Australian/New Zealander holiday maker she had previously employed had possessed a wonderful work ethic. I was quite startled at the speed of the interview but felt very happy to have found a job so easily.

My first shift was only two days away so I realised that my easy days of relaxation would soon be coming to an end. After meeting the other receptionist, Hedia (a sweet French girl), Louise kindly walked me to the door. I asked her about the colourful canvasses that dotted the wall. For a split second Louise wrinkled her nose and frowned but she quickly recovered and broke into a wry smile.

“The hotel manager Cornelia painted them; she thought they would brighten the place up and increase our young person occupancy. But a word of advice – never ever mention them to her.”

Louise also offered me a room in the hotel at a reasonable rate of 30 pounds a week, which I readily accepted. However, it wasn’t available yet, so I had two more weeks over at the Porchester. I didn’t mind doing this as I had become buddies with my roomies Glen, Mike and James.

I returned to the Porchester and as I was walking towards my room, I was startled to see a small grey mouse appear out of nowhere and scamper along the corridor, before disappearing behind a heater. It appeared that the hotel had some smaller residents too. Back in the room Glen and James were there, along with Glen’s girlfriend Debbie. I broke the news that I had got the job and would soon be moving out. James smiled and said “We’ll have to have a drinks night to mark the occasion. I’ll make sure everybody gets an invite.”

As James excitedly laid out his plans (which, creatively, involved drinking beers all night in the bar downstairs), Mike came into the room. As usual, his dripping white shirt and black pants were draped over his left forearm. The explanation for this was simple – Mike worked around five nights a week behind the bar at the Albert Hall. He was one of those travellers that took light packing to the extreme and had arrived in England with only one pair of work pants, one shirt and not much else. In fact, he packed so lightly it appeared he hadn’t had enough room to bring any money either. As a result, he couldn’t afford to buy more clothes. But Mike was no grub, cleanliness was holy in his opinion, so before work each day he performed a complicated routine whereby he wore his work clothes into the shower and spent the majority of his time scrubbing them with shampoo. He then dried them on the room heater. With summer fast approaching, our room was relatively warm, but a great proportion of the heater’s warmth got stolen by Mike’s shirt and pants, which had virtual permanent residency there.

Swans at Kew Gardens

After a quick chat and receipt of congratulations, I headed out to make the most of my second last day of freedom. I headed to the outskirts of London to visit Kew Gardens, also known as the Royal Botanic Gardens. Working out the quickest tube route to take proved to be quite a challenge. A challenge I evidently wasn’t up to because I arrived at the gardens about two hours later (the guide book said it would take 45mins). But it was wonderful there, and thoroughly recommended for those wanting to get away from it all. I devoured some Devonshire tea in the sun at the garden cafe, wandered aimlessly through the trees and frolicked amongst the geese for a while before returning home, which thankfully only took an hour this time.

Back in Bayswater, I returned to the room to find it in frantic disarray. This seemed to happen on a regular basis and by now I was getting used to it. Mike was standing in the middle of the room, flapping his pants up and down at a furious pace. Glenn and Deb looked on with a hesitant, yet slightly bemused expression. I asked Mike what was going on.

“The bloody hotel has turned the central heating off for the summer and my pants and shirt haven’t bloody dried and I have to be at work in 15 minutes.”

He looked at Glenn with an accusatory expression. Glenn, as the hotel’s maintenance manager, had been the one responsible for turning the hotel heating system off that day. He was forgetful even at the best of times and had just never thought to tell Mike that his pants wouldn’t be drying too quickly today.

Mike resumed his furious flapping, muttering at the same time. It was a comical manoeuvre and I had to look away or I would have snorted out aloud. My suggestion that he use a hot iron on them was turned down savagely when it was explained that the whole hotel had no iron. His furious flapping seemed to be the best method. After he had been flapping for five straight minutes, I informed Mike that his shift was due to start in 10 minutes. Albert Hall was located on the other side of Kensington Gardens. I knew that it was an extra walk to get there at this time of night because the garden’s gates would have closed and you had to skirt around its edges. But when I told Mike this, he scoffed and shrugged his shoulders.

“Screw skirting around the edges, I just jump the fence and walk through the park.”
“Err Mike, but aren’t parks kinda dangerous after dark; I mean they lock the gates for a reason don’t they?”

He looked at me with a disbelieving expression before replying. “Well, sometimes you see people hanging around but they keep to themselves. They mind their business and I mind mine. I mean, do you know how long it would take to walk around the edge? Probably half an hour! You’re just a bit too cautious sometimes Dave; why don’t you live a little?” Shaking his head, he looked at his pants and said, “great, all that flapping did absolutely nothing.”

With that, he winced as he slowly pulled the damp pants on, together with damp shirt. The pants looked very tight and as he walked to the door I tried to work out what he resembled. The best I came up with was a cross between a bowlegged cowboy and a toddler that had peed its pants. He looked very uncomfortable, which he affirmed by turning around at the door and stating, “This is the most uncomfortable I’ve ever felt in my life.” I felt sorry for him but couldn’t help smiling when I pictured him having to straddle the fence at Kensington Gardens, a good six foot high fence at that.

The evening was spent relaxing. James came in and reminded us yet again that his girlfriend was coming from Australia tomorrow and we were to all LEAVE the room soon after meeting her so that James and she could get ‘reacquainted’. I groaned once again. The same thing happened on a regular basis with Glenn and Deb, and I was getting sick of sitting in the pub downstairs and asking the others, “do you think they’ve finished yet?” Just one of the many joys of living in a backpacker’s hotel. The best option I had on these occasions was to ring and catch up with Nadia back in Australia. It was perhaps not as exciting but it was always good to hear from her.

It soon reached midnight and as I prepared for bed after a long day of walking the door flew open. It seemed to do that a lot. Mike came rushing in with a bug eyed expression and started talking very quickly. He was really upset. As I tried to calm him he turned to me and grabbed my shoulder and whispered, “You were right Dave, I shouldn’t have walked in that park after dark.”

Hyde Park

Mike had been calmly walking through the park after his bar shift, having once again jumped the fence. Mercifully, his pants had dried by then. He heard soft footsteps and turned to see a figure coming out of the gloom, walking very quickly towards him. The guy was not a ‘friendly looking’ character so to speak, so Mike didn’t hang around to see what was going to happen to him. He sprinted right through the entire park as fast as he could, practically vaulting the six foot fence at the end. The incident had really rattled him as it had the potential to have been very serious. He gradually calmed his nerves as the ever resourceful James poured a shot of Vodka and ordered him to drink. After two more quick shots, Mike soon left to shower both himself and his clothes. His next shift wasn’t for another three days so he hoped they would dry this time.

It had been yet another eventful day but as the others quickly fell asleep, I struggled to get comfortable. But gradually I reached the stage in between asleep and awake. Then I became aware of a small pitter patter of footsteps. I sleepily looked over the edge of the bed and with the aid of the moonlight, saw that a little grey mouse (Mousey from here on) was wandering across the room. He looked an awful lot like the one that I’d seen in the corridor that day. I didn’t know what to do so I silently watched. Mousey continued across the room and reached the bunk bed on which James and I was situated. Then, in one fluid motion, he climbed the leg of the bed and found himself on James’s mattress, which contained�.a sleeping James. Then, Mousey climbed up onto the pillow and sniffed at James’s face. I watched in sick horror as he seemed to be heading for James’s open mouth! I do not know what this mouse thought it was doing.

Deep down, a part of me wanted to do nothing as it would have been a story to tell for years to come if an actual mouse had walked into my roommate’s mouth. But I knew I must do something. I had to scare away Mousey without waking James. I knew he quite simply would have a heart attack if he awoke to find a mouse walking into his mouth. I mean, think about that one for a second! So I raised my hand and quickly slapped my pillow. In the end, the plan was executed quite well. Upon hearing the noise, Mousey shot off the bed and across the room, disappearing behind the wardrobe. Half a second later, Glenn, Mike and James calmly woke up and enquired what the noise had been. I chose my words carefully.

“Well, I don’t know how to say this, but a mouse just tried to walk into James’s mouth.” I quickly explained what had happened.

On hearing this, James jumped out of bed, turned on the light and fervently looked around him. “I hate mice, I really, really really, hate mice”. He eyes bugged out and he repeatedly asked me if I was pulling his leg. When he was satisfied that I wasn’t, he freaked out even more and set about searching the room for the mouse. His body jerked every time he thought he heard a movement. Eventually Glenn and I moved the wardrobe and discovered a mouse hole in the wall. James tore piece some cardboard into small pieces and completely filled the hole in with it, but only after being assured repeatedly by Mike, Glenn and myself that Mousey had definitely gone back down there and wasn’t still lurking in the room. Eventually the light was turned off again. Mike and Glenn dropped off to sleep immediately but I looked down and noticed James still sitting up, scanning the room.

The next morning, there was still a note of tension in the air. Mike was still talking about his ‘butt love incident’ (as he titled it) and James was still shaking over a mouse that had tried to walk into his mouth. James informed us that he’d only gone to sleep at 5 am as he had kept hearing scurrying noises and had been sure that Mousey was still in the room. He finally started thinking about something else when he remembered his girlfriend was arriving today. He turned business-like and briskly informed us that as a result, our presence was NOT required between three and five o’clock in the room today. I jokingly asked him if he was worried that the ever forgetful Glen would, well, forget all of this when his shift ended in the afternoon. James told me that as a backup, he was going to get all the room keys held at reception and then lock the door. It was an absolutely foolproof plan, he assured me.

I soon left to go sightseeing for the last day before my new job commenced. I decided to return to the British Museum to see the parts that I’d so far missed. It’s a big museum so two days are required if you really want to do it justice. I spent hours gazing in wonder at the Egyptian mummies and marvelling at the treasures found from the Sutton Hoo ship burial before getting museumed out. I returned to the Porchester just after 4 o’clock, and knowing that the room was ‘occupied’, I went to the downstairs pub to have a beer and say things like “do you think they’ve finished yet?”

I bought a beer and took a seat with Mike and Glenn. Mike had an extremely amused expression on his face, but Glenn wore a haunted look and was shaking. I wondered what was going on. As I took a seat, Debbie resolutely came up and placed a pint of beer and a shot of whisky before Glenn. He downed the whisky and then started to gulp on the beer. He set it down and then whispered painfully.

“I completely forgot that James’s girlfriend was coming today. So when my shift finished, I went straight up to the room. I saw that the door was locked so I went to get the key from reception. When it wasn’t there I simply asked the receptionist to give me the spare key. I didn’t bother to think why the other keys weren’t there. I went up to the room, unlocked the door, walked in, and was greeted by an arse.” He looked into his beer and shook his head. “James was just by the door and his girlfriend was sitting on the bed. I looked at the worst possible time, the worst possible time; James was bending over to pick his pants up off the floor.”

At this point Mike burst out laughing. Debbie and I joined in and we all laughed uncontrollably at the thought. Glenn looked bewildered and said, “guys, it isn’t funny,” but then he paused and pondered for a moment. “Oh wait, yeah it is actually,” and his laughter rang out as well.