True Story; Staying On; Cast of Characters; Sassy and Kinder Surprise

I was mellowing out in the jacuzzi at the end of day here at the Trump Intonational Hotel. I gazed upward at the Trump Tower and the phrase How High Is The Sky came to mind. It had a familiar ring to it but it was not possible, in those first few seconds to place it. Then I remembered the Watt’s Gallery and seeing a gravestone. i knew I had blogged something so I used the faithful search engine and found that that it had been mentioned in my very first blog, I shall cut and paste for the very lazy, but the whole thing can be revealed by typing “how high is the sky” into the search engine. 

“By the way on the grounds of the gallery there is a cemetery. I see something on a tomb stone that I love. it says How High Is The Sky. That is what I want except I am not going to have a tomb stone. is not that quite wonderful. Not the stupid stuff about good wife, good mother, good grandmother. Well, I am none of those instead: How High Is the Sky. It is meaningful to me.” 
My life has drastically changed since that day, a mere five months ago. I was there in Guildford escaping from a man who was coming to London on business, I was avoiding him like the plague. I see my life here and now as one of almost bliss. It is with almost shock to see as I read that first post that even at that point in my life I was interested, involved, and enjoying myself. Living in the moment although the future was so uncertain and there was no one there to provide any emotional support. I am tuff, it gives me a great deal of self respect. There I had a gravestone, here I have a seventy story tower. Both leave me pondering: how high the sky. How high the sky is a hopeful musing – its implications huge. 
When I first wrote this two days ago it said “It is official: I am remaining at the Trump International Hotel until January 2, 2018. There have been two distinct reactions to this news: 1) joy and happiness 2) mass exodus The official extension did not take place until their people talked with my people. Their people were away, my people is only me and I was around. I find a number of transactions around here confusing but I go with the flow. Lots of layers, hierarchies and meetings. I joke that when I take over management there will be no meetings and when people call me in crisis I shall say: “Don’t bother me with your trivialities!” I have the distinct feeling that the opportunity to practice these managerial skills will ever come my way, but I am prepared and have submitted my vision to the person highest in command. The expression on his face was a mixture of delight and fear.”
But things have drastically changed. My room rate was arbitrarily raised and it is not clear that I can afford it. It was to be raised for the summer but when I rather tardily asked when summer ended they said November. November? Yes somehow that is this hotel’ s end of summer. I wonder if they guarantee good weather until then. Of course that is a bit of a misnomer in Vancouver – good weather. London is not known for its good weather either but I say to any and all: “I had almost fifty years of good weather in California. It gets boring.”  
So perhaps an introduction to staff here at the Trump International Hotel is necessary. All have been give nicknames to protect their privacy. So in n particular order here they are, all employees at Trump International Hotel :

Triple C. Chef Concierge

Triple S A Concierge of the female variety. 

Emperor General Manager (hereinafter Triple E) 

Chappie Master Mixologist

Son, the Crooner Mott Mixologist 

Triple A Manager on Duty

E.H.B. Director of Front Desk

Jay Mott Mixologist 

Gabriel Mott Mixologist 
So that is all I can think of at this moment. 
The photographs attached to this blog are slightly unusual. The chocolate bar labelled SASSY was brought to me yesterday by my new friend Anna who came to visit me at Trump International Hotel. We had such a fun time. We just met but she has been reading my blog and decided that the name was appropriate. She brought chocolate bars and edible flowers and we ate them in the jacuzzi. 
The other picture is of a Kinder Surprise. You may remember that Triple C. likened me to a Kinder Surprise but I had no idea what they were. Then, checking out of Urban Fair, there they were. So I bought one, brought it back and wrote Triple C. a note. He was hiding out in the back somewhere. The note is attached. I cannot find Triple C’s comments about Kinder Surprise looking in the search engine. But basically it was that you get either nice Alexis OR Ms. McBride. This place is getting Ms. McBride due to arbitrary room rate making this unaffordable. And who want to be around Ms. McBride all of the time. NO ONE.

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