Pos2 28 - Bonjour De Geneva!

Contrary to what I said in my previous post, hell is not George Michael records. Hell is being in a hotel room with 40 channels of Swiss TV.

As you can probably guess, I have finally made it to Geneva. It’s been a long, long, day, beginning at 3.30 this morning, when I got up to go to Aberdeen Airport, a full two hours after I went to bed. I hate flying at the best of times: at that time in the morning I hate it just that little bit more. My first flight this morning was the 6.15 Aberdeen to Amsterdam. Take off is the bit I hate most. As soon as I feel the plane leave the ground I always feel compelled to cross myself – however since I’m not Catholic I think there’s more chance of god smiting me down if I do, so I usually resist. 20 minutes into the flight comes my first calamity of the day, as I spill a cup of boiling hot coffee on my groin. Painful, and uncomfortable. On my second flight of the day, 10.55 Amsterdam to Geneva I spill a carton of fresh orange juice on my shirt, and then dribble water all over myself. Something makes me retarded on planes. Upon reaching Geneva we went straight to work, luggage and all, and so I reported for duty in my orange juice splattered shirt and my coffee-soaked trousers, utterly exhausted from lack of sleep and from travelling. Thankfully my employers recognise that in my current state I’m not much good to anyone, and after a few hours induction, allow me to clock out at 3pm and go to my accommodation for some much needed rest.

I find to my surprise that they have cancelled my hotel reservation and instead have put me in a fully furnished flat in a leafy and beautiful area of Geneva (though to be honest, there aren’t many parts of Geneva that could be described as anything except beautiful), Even the most crooked of estate agents would struggle to describe my apartment as luxurious, but it’s certainly a lot better than the flea-pit I was expecting. I have a large lounge/bedroom with huge windows which let in the sun, a double bed, a glass coffee table and chairs, wooden floors and all tastefully decorated in cream and deep red. My lounge boasts a TV, DVD player and stereo, a built in wardrobe, and enough space to play 5 a side football. My kitchen is tiny but well equipped, including a dinner set, a kettle, a hob, a microwave and a fridge freezer. The bathroom contains everything you’d expect from a bathroom – toilet, sink, bath, shower – all in all, a lot better than spending 2 months in a pokey hotel room,

Since leaving work I’ve hooked up my laptop, Playstation, iPod and speaker dock and unpacked while listening to The Fratellis album at full volume (definitely going to be the soundtrack to my trip). It feels homely already. The only thing missing from this scene is my significant other, whom I’m going to miss terribly, but the black and white photo of her next to my bed will be there to greet me when I wake up in the morning – not quite a substitute for the real thing, but it’s all I have.

All in all, the signs point to this being a great 2 months. Now if only I could do something about the fucking weather…

Song currently stuck in my head – “Vince The Lovable Stoner” by The Fratellis.
dissolvoray@hotmail.co.uk