Not too spooky.
I couldn't sleep anymore, so at 6:00 a.m. came downstairs where the internet is strong. I wanted to show you the stairwell, which is pretty, but as with many things, you had to be there. Still, a peek.
The lobby is decorated with maps from the 1960s, it seems. And there's a certificate that says they're members of the London Tourist Board, 1972. Only the name of the hotel is stuck over whatever old name there was, printed out on computer sticky-paper. White paper, stuck on a big cream-colored certificate. I like it.
There's a pretty vase on one of the mismatched tables here by the front door, and the flowers are mostly dried up.
There was a guy sleeping in a corner at the top of the stairs. When I came out he pulled his mobile phone out to check the time, and I said softly "Six o'clock."
Photos from yesterday, from the train station in Diss, Liverpool Station, and the Museum of Childhood, the hotel's neighborhood and our five-bed, no-chairs room, and my birthday cake, a gift from my host family The Waynforths. (All clickable thumbnails; no time this morning to make a slide show.)
Or if you'd rather, go here and click slide show to see the whole dump of my camera: