2004-10-03 - 7:33 p.m.

Back in sunny London, all lag-faced and suddenly having to deal with chilly Autumn, the transition eased with a slap up Sunday lunch with Bruce in what is officially the second best pub in London, which happens to be round the corner from our house.

It�s strange not to wake up in a strange bed. Bedding is strange, when you�re a stranger. Duvets look ugly, when you�re alone.

Having stayed in about 135 hotels in the last month, I noticed that most of them have subscribed to a growing trend in the hotel industry of calling the basic, entry level rooms a �superior�. Excuse me, superior to WHAT, exactly? Kipping in the lobby? Living for three days in the utility cupboard? Lying face down in your own piss in some rat-infested gutter whilst passing strangers rifle through your pockets and purloin your small change? Well, I suppose. Still, it�s a bit of a cheek.