So to cut a long story short, I was in a clean but tired coastal B&B for reasons to do with travel and death, and engineered a few minutes alone in the room when everyone else went down for breakfast.
The main reason I was fussing needlessly over my rucksack so everyone left me behind like a hallucinating mountaineer way above the death zone was to get the room to myself for a poo — the inability to poo in private being the main drawback of today’s en suite bathroom trend — but then something else happened.
“I wonder what sort of batteries are in that remote control?” a small inner voice said, an inner voice that now spends most of its time thinking about when children last had anything to eat and went to the toilet and if there are sausages in the fridge, rather than matters concerning AA and AAA power.
So off popped the suspiciously weak clasp (does everyone do this now? Are flat screen TVs old already?) and into view came these two beauties:
Despite some initial focusing problems the Huawei P9 coped admirably with the pre-dawn artificial light and aggressive carpet pattern, revealing a classic red and black colourway and evocative italicised lettering. The limited time available meant it was not possible to scrutinise the casings for spelling mistakes, but the mind imagined scenarios involving the fire disposal and insertion advice to be grammatically poor, over a hurried breakfast.
Perhaps if we are there again next year I’ll sneak the remote into the bathroom for a more thorough examination, although chances are the cells will have been long replaced by something from the local Asda by the time I next succumb to the demand to go somewhere and do something.
Anyway, that was on Monday. Tuesday, well, that’s a whole other story.