In London

I’m away for the week, attending a management course in London.  After the first day, I am disappointed to report I have learned nothing new.

The hotel, at GBP 150 a night, can’t even give wifi internet access.  Money grubbing bastards.

So, I’m next door at the British Library, using their free wifi.  What a great library.  I think.  I didn’t bring anything with my address on it so I can’t actually get a library card to get into the fucking library.  Crap!

A woo report:  The hotel I’m staying in, Novotel St. Pancras, has no floor 13.  Actually, they do, they just call it floor 14.  What the hell?  Does this superstition still carry such weight?

I ought to accidentally break one of their mirrors to give them some real bad luck.