Karen’s Blog

I am just back from a two-day trip in Leeds, North-East of England, or as they say in the South, “up North”. I am actually quite shattered, most probably for a number of reasons, including early rises to catch the train there yesterday, not touching nor even seeing a piece of fruit in two days, having a fair number of drinks last night, working, and apparently catching one of my colleagues’ lurgy along the way (or at least working hard to fight off the virus).

Now I have to say, Leeds did look like you could have a decent amount of fun there, perhaps because it has this ‘small city feel’, because people seem significantly friendlier there than here (what? a bloke trying to speak to me in the lift? is that allowed?), and it was cheerfully decorated for Xmas with the same kind of willy-nilly colours you would expect in South-Western French villages around that time of year: stars and popping champagne bottles, somewhat more childish but also more relaxed than the poncier London attempt at classy (yet commercially sponsored) street decking.

The down side of Leeds (or of our arrangements for the trip, perhaps) is that people there seem inclined (or at least, OK) to eat the worse possible food on the planet. When people say that British food is bad, I’m always tempted to correct them because in London you can, for an indecent amount of money, treat yourself to really quite good sandwiches and work lunches. Not so much in Leeds, where Porkinson sausages and watery potato mash are the dish of choice. I was also sadly depressed by my hotel room, which was devoid of any decoration, as well as of shampoo in the bathroom. There was something grim about having to pick a tray to put breakfast dishes on, using a self-serving coffee machine (where is my waiter asking me if I would prefer tea or coffee?), and having your breakfast on a wobbly table. I am lucky indeed that my colleagues are not a miserable lot and can have a laugh.

I am now home, armed with a melon salad, a gigantic tub of my favourite biscuit assortment, and a perfectly decent murder mystery show on telly in 15 minutes. On top of this, I have received a brand new bunch of cool patterns to make outfits from. And my pyjamas and slippers are infinitely scruffy and comfortable. And my man is coming back in two days.