I’m starting a new collection

Many public places are closed, streets are empty, and so on. As an elder client of the Accor Group, for a few days I have taken the habit to go to places I like to take a coffee —like the Mercure hotel in York Place— to thanks people who continue to go at work and do their job, despite their fear.

Two books have marked my youth: ‘Airport’ and ‘Hotel’, both written by Arthur Hailey. I have satisfied my love for airports in working almost ten years —nine years and a few months, exactly— for an air freight forwarder company at Roissy Airport in France (which became later an affiliate of Burlington Air Express, itself a member of the Pittston Group, but that is a different story).

Still today, I feel sadness because I have never found a way to enter the hotel industry. That is probably why I am so fond of the Accor Group: their quality of service meet my own requirements about well done jobs.

Maybe I can’t help. But it seems important to me to thank people doing their job, to say them they are not alone, their clients think at them — because if I were in their place, it might help me to know I am not working only for the money — to know that what I do is meaningful for the clients.

And before I forget — I have wondered if I was a client or a customer of the Accor group, so I asked Google for it.

The answer of Google

So, I am a customer —amongst many other ones— at the Kirkgate Market, there is no shame at it, I am ok with this.

But Accor’s employees are highly specialized professional people, and, do you want to know my opinion?

I am very proud to be a client of the Accor group. :^)

Today, I wrote to my mom

And as I was in West Yorkshire, England, United Kingdom and so on, I started my letter with a (virtual) thunderous “Hi, mom!” in English.

Of course, on next paragraph, I explained it was a joke, because I was —I am— in England now, in a city named Leeds from which I have become in love at first glance, so I’m not sure I would agree to go back in France now.

I’m happy I was able to send her a (large) nice postcard, with four pictures of Leeds on front side — postcard found at the museum near the City Town Hall, if I remember well.

But as I haven’t thought to take a snapshot of the postcard, I give you a picture coming straight from my smartphone, without any change at all.

Straight coming from my smartphone …

A really nice picture, isn’t it? Hope I could make such beautiful ones with my (semi-pro) camera …

Yet, half an hour later …

… I was at Kings Cross Station, waiting for the next train to Leeds.

I’m not sure I can afford London, which is reputed expensive.

On the other hand, even whether my spoken English is slightly better than I thought, it’s not that good. I hear poorly, I pronounce poorly, and often I need people repeat several times what they say before I understand the meaning. When I understand — not always.

So, I have decided to go slightly away from London, to force me to face reality, and Leeds seems a nice idea for the challenge.

‘Why Leeds?’ could you ask. ‘Why not Leeds?’ might I reply. In fact, there is a reason for Leeds rather than any other place in the world: Leeds is the closest place with a railway station and hotels of the Accor group from another place where somebody I crave to meet lives. And that’s enough to say, if you agree.

• • •

Sadly, I might have to go back to Vierzon on next month — just a quick round trip, but it has to be made before May. My travel was poorly prepared (my fault), and I miss some papers I need to bring my bank agency closer to me, not to mention finding any accommodation here.

Welcome home, Traveler!

— Welcome back, England! — Welcome home, Traveler!

I can’t get tired of this vision, nor of the dialogue I imagine at arrival.

I have been away too much, it was enough for me to reach Saint Pancras to understand how much I have missed England since 2014.

My heart has remained enclosed in the memory of clothes the couple of Paul Day was covered in (January? February?) 2014, to celebrate I don’t remember which event.

Clothes were removed, but fragments of my heart remained there, forever glued to the statue, so my very first pictures of England were for them.

Welcome back, England!

In fact, I don’t know if that is the traveler or the one who accommodates who is in charge to pronounce the ‘Welcome back, England!’ sentence.

Or ‘Welcome back, Traveler!’? — Another lacuna to be filled up.

Just a few words to advise (the universe) that I take the Eurostar tomorrow morning, even if I plan to spend only half an hour in London, for my correspondence from Saint Pancras to Kings Cross.

Due to rates of locations in London, I move away a little bit (compared to the size of the universe), and go towards the Yorkshire — the West Yorkshire, at least.

Where a simple ‘Welcome, Yorkshire!’ will be due, as it won’t be at all a comeback :^)