The first draft of this post began with a torrent of swearing. I missed my flight back to London tonight (Sunday) and there is not another one until Thursday. This is either the result of the wear and tear on my hearing as a result of decades of loud music or the clerk’s inability to clearly pronounce “half” and “five”. Maybe a bit of both. Bollocks!
Your correspondent is back in Havana for an extra 4 nights when he desperately wants to be back in his Bethnal Green fastness. What a damned imbecile.
This hotel is quite a treat. The bathroom light wasn’t working work. This is probably just as well because it means that you can’t see the floor. Its been fixed now but the man said not to open the bathroom cabinet because it’s supporting the plastic light covering. There are footprints on the bedroom wall and the floor has a deeply ingrained grime all around the edges of the walls. The room, and much of the hotel looks like it was painted by people with very poor hand eye co-ordination with frequent involuntary spasms in their arms.
Breakfast has that early morning favourite of dodgy looking crabsticks and last night´s spaghetti. Though the fruit was pretty good.
Next time you change your flight ask for written confirmation.
Liam redux 
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