Frantic end to the working day yesterday, but managed to get away at a sensible time despite the excitement. More on this at a later date.

Dinner in Bromsgrove with Esteemed Client at a fine Thai restaurant. The food was excellent, and the estanblishement certainly worthy of further visits if the Gorse Fox stays in the area again.

Returning to the hotel he climbed into the manic depressive lift to return to his room. He is staying in a purpose built, modern hotel by the motorway. Rooms are pleasant enough, though sound echoes through the corridors. The talking point, however, is the manic depressive lift. Pressing the button the elevator arrives at a leisurely pace, opens its doors and moans "Ground Floor", then it sulks for a bit before telling you it will close the doors. On arrival at you destination floor, in the voice of a suicidal teenager it announce "First Floor" opens its door with a shuddering sigh and you exit the lift. It briefly pulls its doors together and slopes off leaving you wondering whether it will still be there in the morning, or whether it will have slit its cables overnight.



[File under: Diary]