"So you're a photographer? Cool!"
Why do people think that being a photographer is somehow glamorous and fun?
I'm sure that it is for those who are photographing famous folks and amazing sights, but for me, and 90% of photographers it just isn't glamorous at all.
Here's a day, (night, actually), in the life.....................
6pm. Sitting in a cheap hotel in a cheap area of London. "I need something to drink.... tea, coffee, something......"
"Can I request a cup of tea please, Mr Receptionist?"
"No Sir! It is NOT meal time!"
"When is meal time?"
"08:30, Sir."
"I'm leaving at 06:00........."
Receptionist shrugs shoulders and wanders off; Then struck by a thought, he says, "I could ring the owner and ask him if you could buy some tea!!"
"No. No thank you. I wouldn't want to trouble you any more than my arrival already has. Forget I ever asked."
So, I walk down into a rather seedy street and get a cup of
8pm.
The noise from the street is bad! Still, it probably will calm down soon....
The guest next door is making a noise, probably with part of his anatomy and air.... He's very proficient, and I think that Britain's Got Talent is where he must be bound.
The receptionist is asleep, the taps in the phone-box shower dripping, the street still humming.
10pm
Despite the constant noise from the street, which is made worse by the fact that I can't shut the window, I think I'm falling asleep.
BANG!
This slamming of the upstairs door means another guest is here.
BANG! Or not.
BANG! Oh dear. This sounds bad.
Strange alien squeaking.
The fellow upstairs is clearly preparing a Punch and Judy act. Or is it Sooty and Sweep?
Thump, thump, squeak squeak.
Why practice Punch and Judy in a hotel at this time of night?
Now, dear reader. Forgive me if I seem a little naive here, but this just seemed a little too public to be what I was beginning to think it might actually be. Thump, thump, squeak, yowl, squeak.....
You know, I do actually think it really could be what I'm starting to suspect.
YUCK!
Saved by the bell!
The fire alarm stopped his antics. He never actually left the room above, but must have paused in his Punch and Judy practise to listen. I listened too....
No one moved. The alarm was silenced, and I attempted to sleep again, which wasn't easy.
The Punch and Judy man thankfully never started up again, and I fell asleep.
1am
The fire alarm wakes me with a jolt.
Now I'm FURIOUS!
I grab my dressing gown and storm to the reception desk.
"What in Blue Blazes is going on man?" I ask the snoozing receptionist.
Bleary eyed, he peers at me and says casually, "bedroom smokers." He flips a switch and the alarm goes off.
I go back to bed.
3am
"The bed is shaking. "Friends and relation' good of der nation, bad inhalation, mak' I' all stop!"
HUH??
Two cars outside with noise making attachments turned to full volume. Six men arguing over a football match, a girl repeating that she is NOT drunk!
I hate modern "music!"
4am
BLESSED SLEEP.
5am.
My alarm goes off. I shower, shave, dress for the day ahead., and foolishly ask for coffee.
"Coffee? Oh no Sir! It's only 05:30! Breakfast is at 08:30!!
Give me strength, Lord! I want to strangle this fellow.
05:35
Walk into shopping area, grab evil coffee, run back to pack and catch pre-ordered taxi.
06:00 Stand in street outside hotel and wait.....
06:15......... And wait.........
06:30.......... Still waiting....
06:40.
Call different taxi to be in Westminster for 7am.
I'm tired, thirsty, and stressed. The day hasn't really started yet and after the booking, I have 100+ miles to go to get home.
Yes. It is indeed a glamorous life. Or maybe NOT.
Strangely though, I love it!
Incidentally: When I finally got back to my own car, it had an £80 parking fine on it.
