In stark contrast to Dave's experience back in London, I was basking in comparative luxury. As I lay on my crisp fresh linen, sipping sparking mineral water I felt a little bad for Dave. The poor guy was going to hostel with what can only be discribed as a less than sterling reputaion. Knowing however that Dave wouldn't want me to fret over his circumstance, I swiftly crushed these rogue thoughts.
He's the noble sort you understand.
Having set my mind at ease, I lay back and put some Coldplay on my wall mounted entertainment system. Then lacking anything better to do I fiddled with my espresso machine and retired to the bathroom for a relaxing shower. Then I discovered the jets. Five small, high
pressure jets of water that rinse you off, similar to what the government employs in quarantine facilities. To say they caught me unawares would be an understatement.
The next morning having recovered from my shower malfunction and having deftly appropriating some choice toiletries, I ambled down to meet Dave at the foot of my building. Feeling refreshed in body and mind I felt ready to follow in the footsteps of Charlemange and
conquer the European continent.
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