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An introspective on creature comforts
It's amazing what constitutes home comforts. How much or how little do you need to turn an anonymous, basic room into a makeshift home? Sitting here in a cheap London B&B, in which I shall be living for the next week or so, I'm in awe of the things I've found it necessary to provide for myself to make me feel comfortable.
Obviously one must bring a supply of shirts, trousers and underwear - the less said about the latter, the better! However, I have also chosen, without thinking too hard about it, to bring my usual toiletries, excluding my electric toothbrush (the substitute manual brush somehow seeming more appropriate for travel) but including my preferred brand of liquid hand washing soap - as though the hotel-provided bars of soap would be somehow inadequate?
On the dressing table I have a bag containing paper. Books, magazines, which I'd never get around to reading at home, notebooks, all are expected to be company for me if the waking hours drag out. My alarm clock/radio is an essential companion and task master - my only hope for controlling my sleep patterns, though the mobile phone may also be commandeered for timely beeping to help raise me from the near death that is my deep sleep.
As for luxuries, I am in the company of a borrowed guitar, which may decide to move on to pastures new and more worthy at some point. I also have a supply of dried-just-add-hot-water-style drinks, from the nutritious (?) soup to the decadent instant-cappuccino. Following a brief visit to the local shop last night, I am also the proud host to some bananas, hanging from the hook above my sink, and a bottle of fizzy pop.
That's it. That's mind, body and spirit provided for with a few simple items. It's that easy... it makes me wonder about all the things I left behind in my house.
Written: 22 December 2002
Posted: 01 January 2003