Where am I?

 

To some it is a bedroom, to others not so fortunate, a holding cell. But here is where I am now, appreciating the details in mundane things, as I learned to do during "Lockdown", and have enjoyed since.

The bed is hard but comfortable, with crisp white sheets and duvet. Curtains in stripes of blue brown and red match the runner at the foot of the bed. The blue matches a "statement wall" above the bed, whereas the other walls and ceiling are a neutral pale hue. The carpet is dark blue.

There is no escape through the window which has restricted opening, and an adjacent sign telling us that the window has restricted opening. A sensible precaution, given that some guests are not here by choice.

A built-in woodgrain effect headboard has lighting and bedside cubby holes, whatever a "cubby" is. Just big enough to hold pens, keys, wallets and other personal effects. I've since learned that "cubby" comes from an old word for a pen or hutch for small animals. High on the wall facing the bed, a television is mounted on a woodgrain effect backing board. Along the window wall there is a fitted woodgrain effect table/desk with kettle, and adjacent clothes hanging space. I feel at home. There is a sense of comfort in the mid-brown woodgrain effect, which reminds me of furniture my father made in the 1960s using the then new-fangled Contiboard. He built a sideboard and LP record cabinet as I recall. 

The shower room has a grey door, a grey textured anti-slip floor and the walls tiled in scarlet and white. To gain access, I turn left from the bed, and left again. But in some rooms and some locations, the same manoeuvre requires a turn to the right and then right. Yes, while rooms are mostly identical, maybe half are configured the other way round as mirror images; the shower cubicle to the right of the bedroom door instead of the left, and the bed on the corresponding wall.

Typically the hum of traffic starts at 5am. Due to road configuration and traffic lights, the sound crescendoes and decrescendoes, up and down, in a slow regular rhythm. It's not difficult to imagine the sound of waves crashing against a stony shore, which helps me to doze a while longer. As supposedly more electric vehicles replace the internal combustion engine, most of the sound will come from tyres on the road, more closely approximating the sound of the sea.

Waking in the small hours, it's easy to forget where I am. Thanks to these identical rooms, I could be in Caerffili, Chester, Liverpool, London, Newport (Isle of Wight), Southampton, Stirling or anywhere in between. Maybe I am wherever I think myself to be at that moment, particularly if it's the middle of the night.

So where am I? A well known budget hotel chain. My partner and I stay there by choice. I understand that some guests have been "placed" there by various authorities rather than their own choosing. The staff usually don't know who is who, and are invariably welcoming, helpful and charming. While the buildings sometimes have a Soviet era austere look, you could pay a lot more to stay in upmarket minimalist chic for the same experience. Anonymity is part of the deal, and part of the appeal.

Coming in and going out I notice signs by the entrance and by the fire escape stating "This door is alarmed", a hint of panpsychism? It's an old joke, but perhaps the doors know more than they're letting on.

NOTES

Psychogeography: A Purposeful Drift Through the City | The MIT Press Reader

PARTICLE BOARD (cabinetsquick.com)

“... taking time to observe your surroundings and the thoughts and feelings they evoke – can help you see familiar spaces ... anew.” Five walks to save the world – how 'psychogeography' can help you confront the climate crisis (theconversation.com)

Let Panpsychism Expand Your Mind - JSTOR Daily