Life in a hotel is for the most part fun.
The staff are wonderfully helpful - very happy and smiley, and always willing to please you. At first you find it charming, flattering and lovely, but after a month you could take a bat to them.
All of the staff are creatures of habit who follow routines diligently, and they will try to memorize your particular wants and tastes to serve you better, which is fine for the most part - I have trained them all how to make my tea MY way, but if they get something wrong - it stays wrong. After the hospital fiasco I had a need for a glass of hot milk and some water to take some pills, I got what I asked for, a glass of hot milk and a glass of hot water with a slice of lemon. Even now if I ask for a glass of water I get it hot with a slice of lemon in it.

As for the cleaning staff - it is like being 14 and having your mother interfering with your bedroom. Having unpacked I arrange my things in the bathroom in among the various provided packages containing razors, creams, powders, soaps, and toothbrushes. I move the bathroom scales away from the toilet bowl as I do not wish to stub my toe in the morning, and I hang a robe on the back of the door to get out of the shower with. For the next week I battle for dominance with the cleaners as every day I stub my toe while slip sliding my way out of the bathroom to find a robe in the closet. I move things, they move them back, I even rearranged all the towels one day replacing face cloths with bathsheets just to see if they would get it - but that night normality and order was restored once more.

They are habitual and will not break or bend their routines for anyone. Although I was prepared to push one of them off of the top floor on my last trip- Working nights means that you want to sleep all day - a natural enough desire, except that the cleaners want to turn your bed four times and rearrange your bathroom. After a badly disturbed day of broken sleep I talk to the duty manager -
"I am sleeping all day - do not let anyone come in and clean my room"
"Ah yes, sorry - please use do not disturb"I hang the do not disturb sign on the door and try to sleep. Apparently in China 'Do not disturb' means 'Hey come on in - and please be noisy'.
"I was trying to sleep today - and I used the do not disturb - if the cleaner comes in again I will kill him. You can clean at night, you can hold parties in there all night for all I care but do not under any circumstances clean during the day. OK?"
"Ah yes, very sorry - we will not clean your room during the day"
Midday - third day - the door opens again.......
"Piss off or die!" I subtly hinted from deep under the covers.
"You promised me no more cleaning - You swore to me cleaning would not happen while I am sleeping!"
"But Mr. Andy - the cleaners were not trying to clean - they were just trying to deliver your fruit bowl."
"Gnnnnnnnhhh"

'Always read the label' are four words that I am realizing I really should try and live by. While packing and preparing for the 24 hours of hell known as traveling home I made something of an error which I share with you now to serve as a warning.

Remember the packages in the bathroom? Having stepped from the shower, slid on the scales again and grabbed a robe, I towel my petite little frame dry and notice a packet containing a white powder - Oh good methinks - Talcum powder. I keenly rip open the sachet and slap away all around the old British Beef and the big burger buns, only then do I notice that the talc is a little grainy and smells odd. So I grab the package out of the waste bin and realize that I must hit the shower once more to wash away all the laundry soap powder. Not pleasant - but my word the crown jewels did sparkle that day.

It is true to say that living in the Shangri - La Hotel is really an experience that should be tried. It is very easy to get accustomed to the regal treatment and finery of the large rooms and the king sized beds, and the piping hot power shower in the marble bathroom but it does all come at a price - you get too used to it.

I had a moment of utmost terror after returning home from my recent stint. There I was in the dawning hours happily slumbering in my bed when the good Mrs. Wrighty gently and fondly shook me by the shoulder to wake me with a cup of tea -
Was my first thought 'Ahh how lovely - thank you my pooky shmooky lovikins'? Not at all - it was 'Holy crap! Who the hell is in my room?'

Until we meet again............