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The Mrs has Moved me into a Premier Inn at a Motorway Service Station

Tom Winnifrith
Wednesday 16 November 2016

It is not quite as grim as it sounds but I am indeed writing to you from a Premier Inn at a Motorway Service Station which is my new home. well for one night only. It is all the fault of the Mrs.

It was she who decided that we would stay in Hemel Hempstead last night after our Christmas party in London. That meant that whilst I gave the fraud talk yesterday the Mrs could meet up with her sister who lives in Hemel and it also allowed us to drive up rather than take the train.

At some stage yesterday I worked out that since I had no need to be in London until Thursday and my only meeting today was at Saracens (a 25 minute drive from Hemel) I might as well stay here all day and head back to London tomorrow. As I headed off to Saracens the Mrs said she'd find a room, our hotel having no spare spaces for tonight. I got back and the Mrs said "Its a Premier Inn but its near the station so very convenient"

I think she meant the Railway Station but seems to have got a bit confused. we entered the zip code on Sat Nav and before long we were on a motorway. As we puled up to my new home the Mrs said "Don't blame me I'm not your P.A". "Too right" I said "If you were I would just have fired you." I have stayed in some fairly grim places in my time but this is right up there among them.

But at least there are few distractions, in may ways this is an ideal writers' retreat.

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About Tom Winnifrith
Tom Winnifrith is the editor of When he is not harvesting olives in Greece, he is (planning to) raise goats in Wales.
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