Oh yeah, selling the car was worth it. The view from the massive window is fantastic. I'm having a bit of Pink Floyd moment over the size of the room. And I even had a treat waiting for me.
Seems there was mix-up with the room reservation, and look what was waiting for me:
First-born has gone to bed, so I may have to indulge a little. And in the usual English way of screwing up American concepts (in this case, thoughtful hotel service) there are no glasses. Just the bottle of champagne. So I'm going to swig it from the bottle, stand on the balcony and shout randomly at tourists. Oh wait, *I'm* a tourist.
There is something deeply debauched about standing on the balcony, clad only the hotel dressing gown, glugging from a bottle of champagne while Room Service lays out the evening meal.
Heck, part of me says I should be saving the money. The other half says "Sod that". I'm with the latter half.
Next stop, Paris.
