The Hostel Experience

Seeing as though this is an unofficial tour of the places to stay in London when you're homeless, it seemed only right that I tried a hostel for a night.

A poker friend suggested the place in Russell Square as a place to "sleep, that's all". It's called the Generator, which should give you an idea of how low the average age of the guests is. The official word would be "Youth Hostel", and it had a colour scheme to go with that. When I made it to my room it was like being in the prison cell of some neglected artist. A bed and a chrome sink. And a coat hook. And a window.

So yeah, a young offenders institute came to mind. So did my age. Is it wrong to think orange walls are a little too much? Maybe not. The other guests seemed to like it and they expressed this by running up and down the corridors yelling. Although the bar was open late and Matron must have had the night off.

I do feel a bit bad though. It took 15 minutes to check in when I arrived and I put this down to the reception guy flirting with two girls in line ahead of me. I was tired and still had work to do so I scribbled a note for the 'suggestion box' whilst I waited, saying the check-in system was rubbish. Hmm. Then I felt guilty, which normally happens when I do this kind of thing, so decided I would fill in an "official" comments form and add a note saying "ignore the random scrap of paper - I was just being a bastard." Forgot.

The tricky bit is that I might have to stay there again this week. There was a padlock on the suggestions box so maybe I'll be okay. It was rusty too. But I know they know it was me. They're on to me.

But it was better than nothing. The move has been put back to Saturday now, not Friday, so the "all-nighter" option is back on the table. Not great for heavy lifting and driving on Saturday but I'll be using a French left-hand-drive car, and erratic driving in one of those is to be expected.

Till then...