Another one of Richard Herring's Emergency Questions to jump-start our Friday conversations...
What's the worst experience you've ever had in a hotel?
Unlike the Frequent Flyers and Another Holiday Already? types that read this blog, I don't spend a lot of time in hotel rooms. Louise isn't fond of hotels, so most of our family holidays are spent in rented cottages. Sam and I brave a Premier Inn once a year for our annual boy's getaway - he's a big fan of the All You Can Eat breakfast. Imagine his horrid during the post-covid year when we booked into a Travelodge that promised "breakfast included" to discover that it constituted a Kellogg's variety pack (random choice) and a carton of Kia Ora. Never again!
Is that the worst experience I've ever had in a hotel room then? Sam would certainly say so. And I'm not sure I can think of anything worse... no rats or cockroaches or views of the local rubbish dump. I'm sure you guys can help out with that though.
My only other vaguely relevant anecdote today is from a holiday with my sister and her family in my teenage years. This was either Jersey or Brittany... I can't remember which, but they were the only two holidays I went on with them. File this one under disconcerting...
The cottage must have had three bedrooms: one for my sister and her husband, one for their two kids (my eldest nephew is only four years younger than me) and one for me. I'd reached the age where it was no longer cool to go on holiday with my parents, but I wasn't old enough to go off on my own... and I never had mates who suggested a week in Ibiza (thank GOD).
Anyway, I woke up one morning to discover that my pillow was missing. When I looked, it was over the other side of the room... wedged under the door, as though trying to stop someone or something getting in. I hadn't done that myself (not consciously, at least) so I wondered then... and still wonder today... how that happened.
Musicians spend more time in hotel rooms than just about any other profession, except travelling salesmen and Ernie. Most of the time, they're not trashing them and throwing the TV out into the swimming pool (that's just Ernie)... instead, they just sit around writing miserable songs about life on the road...
The most evocative of these doesn't mention the word hotel in its title, but it was the first track I thought of today. Anyone who's seen Lloyd Cole live in the last 25+ years will have heard him explain what a Spectra-Vision girl is...
Just another bunch of would be desperados Failing to pace themselves against the grain Strung out on semantics, Holiday-Inn vigilantes, Late night, early town Am I supposed to sleep, here all alone 'Neath the shadow of the mini-bar, with the promise of a Spectra-Vision girl?
What's the worst experience you've ever had in a hotel?
Last weekend, Louise and I had a bit of an argument. It wasn't a particularly important one, just one of the hundreds of squabbles most human beings living under the same roof as other human beings will subject themselves to over the course of the year. I can't even remember what it was about now, but at the time I was livid.
I'm kinda putting off tackling the subject of anger in this series, because it's a huge kettle of anchovies. I'm avoiding it because it looks like it'll be hard work... and those of you who read last week's post will realise that's rather counter-productive of me. Hey, I'm not claiming to be following my own advice all the time - take your "physician, heal thyself" comments and stick them where the sun don't shine.
Anyway, after the argument, I took myself off to stew in the living room. I hate any kind of disagreement, so will take the first opportunity to run away and do whatever I can to avoid it starting up again. This will usually involve not discussing the subject of the argument or anything else for as long as possible, since any form of communication might re-trigger the aggro. Some people might call this sulking. I prefer to term it Crisis Management.
After about a minute though, Louise came to find me. "Here we go again," I thought, at which point Louise said...
"Are you finding those new tuna tins hard to drain? I find they leave a ring and you have to press down and it doesn't get all the water out so you end up with really mushy tuna and..."
I'll spare you the rest, but it was as though our earlier disagreement hadn't even happened and instantly we were back to discussing the trivial annoyances of day to day living. Well, Louise was, anyway. Me... I find it much harder to reset my emotions like that.
In her immensely readable book Unf*ck Your Brain, the delightfully foul-mouthed Dr. Faith G, Harper tells us...
"Our emotions influence our thoughts and behaviours. They are meant to be a physiological signal to the rest of the brain. Once they have done their jobs, they are then meant to dissipate.
Do you know how long an emotion is actually meant to last?
90 seconds.
Seriously, just one and a half minutes for an emotion to run its course.
But you are calling "bullshit" right now, I know. Because if that were really the case, why do our emotions last hours, days, or years? 90 seconds? Not so much.
Emotions last longer than 90 seconds because we continue to fuel them with our thoughts. We do this by telling ourselves the same stories about the triggering situation over and over. This is when they stop being emotions and start becoming moods."
So how do we stop our 90 second emotions becoming full-on hissy fits, extended bouts of pout, or lock-yourself-in-the-toilet meltdowns?
The answer, according to the experts, presumably people who never experience more than 90 seconds of negative emotions at any one time, is to take control of our own feelings and become emotionally self-aware.
This all seems like a shed-load of work to me, but here's a few tips from Psychology Today about how to stop 90 seconds of upset ruining your entire day...
“Look at the second hand on a watch. As soon as you look at it, you’re now observing yourself having this physiological response instead of engaging with it. It will take less than 90 seconds, and you will feel better. Of course, you can always go back to thinking those thoughts that re-stimulate the loop. There’s probably a thought somewhere in your brain of somebody who did you wrong 20 years ago. Every time you think of that person it still starts that circuit. When things are getting hot and you’re getting hot-headed, look at your watch. It takes 90 seconds to dissipate that anger response.”
We keep coming back to this on Self-Help For Cynics. Make yourself aware of what your brain is doing as a first step to taking back control. But how easy is that to do in the heat of the moment when your brain is fired up with the matter at hand? I reckon it'll take practice.
Sweary Dr. Faith takes this idea one step further. She suggests facing your emotions head on. Sitting down and wallowing in them. relishing them, living them to their full potential.
Not avoiding them.
Not just putting up with them.
Actually grasping the nettle and saying to yourself, "Hey, I'm angry / frightened / sad / etc. right now. This is what it feels like. It might feel pretty awful, but I know it won't last, so let's just give it a bit of time, give it its space."
Again, hardly the easiest course of action - particularly for those of us who are Professional Conflict-Avoiders. But, Dr. Faith assures us...
"If you attend to what you're feeling, you get over it way more quickly than if you avoid it. I've noticed I'm bored with myself about three minutes into committing to sitting with my feeling for five. I'm ready to go make a cup of coffee, read a book, find the cookies I hid from myself, or do anything other than perserverate."
All this makes me think that the brain is like a small child that wants our attention when we're otherwise occupied. You can try to ignore the child's continued efforts to disrupt your day... or you can try to muddle along, balancing the thing you're doing with giving the child a bit of attention. Or you can drop everything and give the child your full attention - blatantly. "OK, I'm watching you... what are you doing? Can I watch you do that too? Show me more! Let me watch YOU!"
I've actually done this with Sam on occasion, and often he'll get bored with this sudden bout of hyper-attention and actually want to be left alone for a bit. The people in the know tells us that our brain will do exactly the same thing... if we give it the attention it craves.
Due to our imminent (fingers still crossed) move, I've been packing boxes and unscrewing shelves all weekend, so no time to collate the mammoth Fred entry to Name That Tune, or do your many suggestions justice. So here's a couple of Freda songs to tide you over, starting with the lady above...
