Warren Mews

Tomorrow the Minx and I are at the same conference: she is speaking and I am exhibiting*. This afternoon, then, we drove to London. The Minx had found a place for us to stay in Warren Mews, which offered parking for an additional five pounds. (Not unusually, booking.com had pushed a crucial item of information into the small print, which stated that the garage would only take a small car.) 

Once we arrived, though, and took a look, the garage appeared around the size of a regular parking space. I thought I could get into it. There was an additional challenge of a jeep parked across the mews, opposite the doors but I reckoned it would be OK and set about reversing in.

There was some back and forth - a lot of back and forth, actually - but eventually I was in and reversed to the back of the garage. However, the front of the car was still sticking out and the door wouldn't close. Bugger. Still, the Minx already had a back up plan in the form of a car park half a mile away.

Confidently, I commenced the manoeuvres to get out of the garage, thinking that it would be easier. It wasn't. Back and forth. Back and forth. The side of the car getting closer and closer to the edge of the entrance to the garage. It got to the point where there was, I reckon, about a centimetre to spare. I no longer knew which way to go and I was reminded of the scene in one of the Dirk Gently novels where the sofa is stuck on the staircase. 

"I can't do it!"

But that verbalisation of my frustration cleared my head and a few manoeuvres later I was out, the car undamaged. And then the guy from across the way came out and offered to move the jeep! (To be fair, he'd been in the shower.)

After that, we drove across to Euston and parked the car, and then took a taxi down to Waterloo, where we met up with my folks, my brother, and Izzy. I don't think the feeling of relief left me all evening: I had a lovely time. 

*Sitting at a desk in front of a stand

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-2.9kg