Weekend: London Luton GUKFBJSDKBAPT

We ambled the short distance to the casino (5 mins), Gerry joined a Grosvenor casino at reception (15 minutes), and I signed in as a member of the Vic, a fellow Grosvenor 30 miles away (27 minutes). We joined the cashier queue, got told we needed to go back to reception if we wanted money (18 minutes), went back to reception, sorted situation (8 minutes) went back to cashier, got money, asked to pay into £100 poker tournament and were told as we were late we would be alternates (20 minutes) and went for a beer to toast how lucky we were to be working on a Friday night in an exotic location without being paid, (not long enough).

We did eventually both play in the tournament (no good) and as I got knocked out first and was tired of doing nothing I went for dinner in the restaurant. Luckily a good friend of mine was there to keep me company; he was until he was given a choice between leaving immediately and heading to the Vic for a juicy cash game or staying with me and eating the restaurant food. Five seconds later, after I had ordered a seafood risotto alone, I decided to order a very healthy cheeky French number to lift my spirits.

Later that evening, at around 1 am, Gerry and I hit the funky streets of Luton and went to 'Chicago's' Luton's number one hotspot for singletons. One beer later we were back in the cab and off to the only bar open in town, our eyes bleeding still from the noise and desperation of the previous venue.

At 3.30am we were asked to leave for the last time, I don't remember goading the tall Austrian bouncer by accusing him of being a Nazi for not allowing Gerry to use the toilet but I'm assured I did, hurrah for me.
 
On the walk back to the hotel we stood and witnessed packs of Luton's finest discard some of their clothing (belts and tee-shirts mostly) and set about each other in such a way it had the Bishop and I discussing scenes from Braveheart and Gladiator

After the violence we decided on a night cap at the hotel bar but were informed that due to a series of unfortunate circumstances the hotel residents bar was not open (they couldn't find the key).

Saturday I wisely avoided breakfast (though sadly didn't on Sunday) and met the Bishop to go into town to conclude a little business. As we stood in the torrential rain at Luton Town British Rail Station I wondered if Gerry would mind if I jumped onto the passing express. I guessed he would (correctly it turned out). We arrived at Leicester Square in torrential rain to meet my brother Liam. Liam married my sister a few years ago (he's my brother in law in case you wondered). We went for a fantastic lunch and followed it up by going to see Batman (didn't think I'd be a fan but give it 10/10).

Later we concluded some business at the Vic then made our way back to Luton by midnight deciding again on a nightcap in the hotel bar which was open for a change. Not only open in fact but attended by three staff behind the bar and one manager. The Bishop and I were its only customers. One healthy bottle of Sancerre was ordered before we were informed they couldn't accept cash unless it was the correct money (£33.75) and that they couldn't put it on the room without one of us going to reception, filling in a 20 page document and giving samples of blood and tissue.

We overpaid for an already overpriced bottle of wine and relaxed. The Bishop is great company at the best of times, add a bottle or two of fruity French wine and it wasn't long before he had me forgetting Luton and having a good laugh.

Sunday, after getting over the 'Luton Breakfast', we did some more work, planned the week and finally (and rather enthusiastically) boarded the flight home. So enthusiastic in fact, we got the front two seats.

When I got home Sunday afternoon shattered and about to finish off some work, I wondered if people would ever understand how glamorous this travelling really is.