To the ugly majesty of the Renaissance, Heathrow - a hotel caught in an aesthetic time warp. The 1970s reborn, and the spiritual home of the couple on the front of the MasterMind box. The lounge is tailormade for a lizard - beige leather, glittering prism lights, and carpet that makes you giddy. A choking miasma of Febreze hangs heavy throughout the ground floor - a step taken, no doubt, to mask the decades of cigar smoke steeped deep into the soft furnishings. It's a place for men to swirl brandy in balloon glasses. Moustaches, fat tie knots, and heavy gold rings. And for women to smoke cocktail cigarettes behind swooping Farrah Fawcett flicks. Every time I get to work here, it never fails to entertain. It's a film set in real life.
(On the subject of environmental joy, I forgot to mention this. Last week, at a rather stuffy business insurance company (all glass and steel and lack of humour), I spotted the CAMPEST signage ever. I was moved to take a photo, and I think you'll agree that I was right to do so. This definitely belongs in the Renaissance. Although it's arguably even better in the incongruity of its current location.)
Feeling a lot better today, but I woke up this morning with a burst blood vessel in my eye. Looks dramatic; completely painless. Think I must have blown my nose too enthusiastically last night. Obviously having spent the day around Heathrow, I've been telling people that I caught 'the red-eye'...
To the ugly majesty of the Renaissance, Heathrow - a hotel caught in an aesthetic time warp. The 1970s reborn, and the spiritual home of the couple on the front of the MasterMind box. The lounge is tailormade for a lizard - beige leather, glittering prism lights, and carpet that makes you giddy. A choking miasma of Febreze hangs heavy throughout the ground floor - a step taken, no doubt, to mask the decades of cigar smoke steeped deep into the soft furnishings. It's a place for men to swirl brandy in balloon glasses. Moustaches, fat tie knots, and heavy gold rings. And for women to smoke cocktail cigarettes behind swooping Farrah Fawcett flicks. Every time I get to work here, it never fails to entertain. It's a film set in real life. 
(On the subject of environmental joy, I forgot to mention this. Last week, at a rather stuffy business insurance company (all glass and steel and lack of humour), I spotted the CAMPEST signage ever. I was moved to take a photo, and I think you'll agree that I was right to do so. This definitely belongs in the Renaissance. Although it's arguably even better in the incongruity of its current location.)
Feeling a lot better today, but I woke up this morning with a burst blood vessel in my eye. Looks dramatic; completely painless. Think I must have blown my nose too enthusiastically last night. Obviously having spent the day around Heathrow, I've been telling people that I caught 'the red-eye'...
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