This little poem was written after a stay in a very impersonal hotel in the U.K.
One of those hotels that can only be described as “ok”.
Clean, tidy, reasonably comfortable but, “ok”.
The Hotel
Why am I here?
Miles from home.
Nobody I know.
People are friendly enough, but
Nobody I know.
All of that gas just getting here.
I could have bought groceries for a week.
Soft drinks. How much?
Who’s getting all the profit?
Nobody I know.
Ignore the mini-bar.
Watch t.v.?
Nothing worth watching. What’s that?
Who writes this rubbish?
Nobody I know.
I drove all night.
Couldn’t stay awake.
Well, until now that is.
Who slept in this sad room last night?
Nobody I know.
Where is that book?
I know I packed it.
I can’t find it anywhere.
Ah! Who left this bible here?
Nobody I know.
I hope I’m up for breakfast.
I was hungry yesterday.
No breakfast, settled for a doughnut.
Who decided last sitting 9 a.m?
Nobody I know.
Ah well! My work here is done.
Off to my home tomorrow.
More fuel. More ways to stay awake.
Who’ll cause that jam that will delay me?
Nobody I know.
Morning, Ah bliss. I got some sleep.
Feel ok. Surprise.
There’s someone here in the mirror.
He looks just like me.
Nobody I know.
This last Christmas day I took an elderly man to the city hospital to visit his wife for an hour.
My wife and I were eating lunch out so no pressure, no sacrifice. I had to kill an hour so drove into Guildford City Centre (U.K.) to sit and chill in the car.
Christmas day is the biggie in the U.K. (No Thanksgiving) so pretty darned quiet.
Here’s the result.
Christmas morning – City Centre
(c) Roger Macdivitt Dec. 08
How quiet, how strange. Folk, who yesterday thronged the shops are
Far away behind closed doors.
Some are still sleeping, even at this mid-morning time.
Maybe they celebrated too hard or feel that Chrismas is a time to chill.
A yellow cab drifts by with just the driver.
Perhaps he’s collecting somebody’s elderly relative,
delivering them to the family for a festive lunch?
Or, maybe he is just returning home after a busy night ferrying partygoers?
A family, two adults and their children pass by
each carrying a bag or parcel.
Dressed brightly, but lightly as this is a mild Christmas day..
It seems that Christmas forgot to be seasonally grey.
They go on their way to brighten a life with love and presents.
A young man and a middle-aged lady pass,
he pushing a bicycle and carrying a bag, she, a large handbag.
I think that they have been working
or they needed to find the only convenience store open in town.
On the hill above the City, people are celebrating at the cathedral.
Some with a genuine wish to worship,
some with a sense of duty, and others who, to them,
“it’s what you do at Christmas”.
Two ladies approach carrying black bags and books.
They smile and approach my car, offering me a leaflet.
They wish me a happy day and suggest that I read their Christian leaflet.
I know that they don’t celebrate today
but they are using the opportunity to remind others of God.
They stop a young man and engage him in conversation.
His response is kindly smiling and their chat is animated.
Another passing lady refuses an offered leaflet or talk.
Two others, dressed in bright African clothing walk past.
They look strangely out of place in this quiet and cool environment.
Their clothes remind me of very a different Christmas overseas.
Still the ladies and the young man converse and
he exchanges information, writing in their black book.
He leaves and walks on just as the yellow cab returns.
It passes by with just the driver.
The, usually essential, traffic signals continue through their phases,
Stopping and directing invisible mid-morning traffic.
This annoys the odd lone driver, faced with waiting for non-existent cars to pass.
A man in a jogging-suit trots by.
He is colour co-ordinated with his black and white dog.
A young driver takes advantage of the empty streets
by thrashing the engine of the high powered sport car.
A hire van stops and collects somebody from a nearby shop.
This is a reminder that some are working,
some delaying their celebrations as they earn an extra bonus by working today.
Another reminder of those who are working.
A fire tender stops and turns.
It returns back again, heading out of the city.
No hurry, just routine.
They will be enjoying their day in their way.
Still the shops sparkle, the banks still stoically showing offers of help.
Offers of sales to come are advertised, many worried what the new year will bring.
Traffic ebbs and flows between nothing and small groups,
some collected by distant signals.
A shapely young lady on a bicycle, dressed in full racing clothes, rolls past, immaculate in every detail, both rider and cycle.
A small grey car pauses, the female driver undecided.
There are parcels on the back shelf.
As the young lady decides on her directions
another driver assaults her ears with his horn.
What price goodwill today?
A watery but cheering sun percolates the spaces between the buildings.
Two adults and a child run by, laughing and having fun.
I check my watch and remember why I’m here.
I have to return to the hospital where my friend awaits his transport home.
I turn and leave. Soon I shall join others for Christmas lunch.