I got lost walking around Russell Square searching for the hotel. My suitcase dragged behind me as I walked back and forth, looking for the right street, searching for an answer. I was tempted to hail a cab just to make things easier. Finally, I found it; the lobby was down a flight of metal stairs. I dragged my suitcase down it. There was a window, and the person sitting at the front desk could see me, but he stayed put. I checked-in to my room, and asked about luggage storage for two weeks time. It’d cost me £2 but I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t lug that thing through Europe for the next two weeks. The luggage storage room was down another flight of stairs. English hospitality, I suppose. The concierge showed me the way but once again, did not bother to help me. I removed my weekend bag, filled with a few items of clothing - a dress, some leggings, sweaters, a scarf, a pair of flats, my toiletries, some books…
