18 May 2015, 7 pm
I have drunk several glasses of wine in quick succession, to celebrate having made it through my initiation ceremony. I have also consumed a couple of crackers, some smelly cheese and a stick of celery. But the wine was better. There is a carnival going on outside. People are singing and cheering and playing drums and from the third floor at 95 Chancery Lane, it is possible to imagine that this is all to celebrate the election of a new CIPA President. I know this is not really true, of course, but then I also know there is not really a Big Bad Wolf. No matter. I think I got away with it. 18 May 2015, 11 pm Obviously, now I am President I get to stay in the very best Presidential-quality hotels. Obviously, this is a joke. Even allowing for the lateness of the hour and the worryingly high specific gravity of my bloodstream, it is clear that my hotel room is on the bijou side. The ratio of bed to not-bed is about 10:1. There is a desk, and a stool wedged under the desk, but if you want to use both at once – for instance, to sit on the stool and work at the desk – you have to sit side-saddle with your feet in the waste paper basket. Not that I am in a fit state to work at the desk, you understand, or even to end up in a waste paper basket, but it would have been nice to have the option. I shouldn’t complain, though, because for the price I’m paying it is clearly a privilege to stay here. And at least the high bed to not-bed ratio means I stand a better chance of ending up in the right place overnight, so long as I don’t accidentally mistake the wardrobe for a guest annex.
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