Checking out...

I'm beginning to wish I hadn't been so harsh on the Moxy Vanderbilt hotel. I was a little miffed that there was no wardrobe and no desk and, I hasten to add, no 'tea and coffee making facilities' but, on reflection, I'm wondering if it really matters. Why the change of heart? Well, I was sitting in what I've named 'the common room' listening to live music last night, feeling, it has to be said, fairly chilled about life when it struck me that their might be method in the Moxy's madness. Not having a desk was, I'm now thinking, quite a good move as it gets people out of their rooms and downstairs mingling with other guests, the environment is buzzy and for some – me included – I find it easy to focus on writing if there's a little hubbub going on.

Reception area, The Moxy hotel...

The pegs on the wall instead of a wardrobe? I got by fine and I spent so much time drinking bottled mineral water that I really didn't want for a cup of tea. In fact, on that score there was always Badass Coffee down the street; I ended up in there a few more times and almost finished my Eric Ambler novel there, but in the end I finished it here at the Moxy, sitting in one of their easy chairs in, yes, 'the common room'. So while my review on Trip Advisor moaned about no desk and no wardrobe what I'm saying now is that it doesn't really matter. I actually get what they're trying to do here and it works. The only thing that doesn't work is the food and beverage operation, that needs vast improvement, but everything else is fine.

As I think I've written somewhere else, hotels become a home from home, a sanctuary and I always look forward to getting back to the room and crashing out. I've been hitting the sack every night at 8pm mainly because, when you're on your own there's little to do other than shut down and go to sleep. I've been getting between six and eight hours' sleep most nights and haven't really noticed any bad effects from jet lag.

I sit here now, writing this article downstairs, listening to music from the Moxy sound system and I'm going to miss the place. I'll certainly miss my room. The shower was fantastic, the bed was comfortable and the hotel's close proximity to Biscuit Love across the street has made it all worthwhile.

Wall decor in the Moxy Hotel Vanderbilt, Nashville

I have to check out by 11am and my flight home isn't until later this evening, 2125hrs to be precise. I'm going to have to leave my case here and come back for it, which isn't a huge deal and the plan is to wander a little around Nashville. People are saying that East Nashville is a little quirky so I'm going to head over that way, if the UBER allows it. Yesterday I keyed in "East Nashville" and the system simply didn't respond, possibly because my destination was too vague, but today I'm giving it another try.

The Moxy Hotel Vanderbilt from the outside...

I'm wondering whether it's worth going to the Gibson Garage for one last look at the place, but I don't think I will. Buying that Grabber bass – a friend informed me today that Krist Novoselic of Nirvana used to play one – is not a good idea, even if it is worth far less than music retailers in the UK are charging. As already explained, it'll cost me to get it on the plane and then there's the risk of damaging it. So that's out of the question.

Nashville is a great place, a bit of a party city, granted, but you don't have to partake and I certainly didn't. The last thing I wanted to contend with was a hangover or worrying whether I'd said anything (or done anything) I shouldn't have. I've been there and done that and I have many T-shirts to prove it.

People often think that international travel is jam-packed with glamour, but as the photo accompanying this article proves, it's not. Invariably (in fact, most of the time) the view from my hotel room leaves a lot to desire, it's never anything to write home about and is, invariably, the view of a car park or some unattractive high rise buildings.

I can't say I'm looking forward to a nine-hour flight back to blighty, but at least it's direct. There's nothing worse than flying into Chicago O'Hare en route to somewhere else, be it Pittsburgh or, like last year, Columbus, Ohio, and then, as a result of huge queues at O'Hare missing the connecting flight. Direct is best, so the thought of not having to board an internal flight fills me with joy. I get on in Nashville and get off in London, simple. I do hope there's no old lady with a sneezing fit sitting next to me or any Americans wanting to apologise for Donald Trump, although I will accept their apology if they do.

I'm sitting here in my new Carhartt jacket feeling very pleased with myself. Normally I don't bother with myself when I'm abroad. I might buy others stuff and then get told it's the wrong size or the wrong colour so this year I thought I'd treat myself and I think I did well. I'm sure it'll last me a long time and it's ideal for the UK weather, although I wouldn't want to get it wet. That said, I'm glad I wasn't wearing it yesterday. There was a massive electric storm, there was heavy rain hammering the roads and sidewalks and I had to take shelter outside of Badass Coffee before walking back to the Moxy. I'd been chilling in Badass reading the last chapter of Eric Ambler's The Mask of Dimitrious. I've now read two Ambler novels, the other being Epitaph for a Spy, both were good and I'm on the look-out for more but couldn't find any in Parnassus Books in Nashville and instead bought an Alan Furst novel. He's supposed to be very much like Ambler in style, but I'm not convinced. I'll see if I can read a bit on the flight later, but I doubt it very much as I always focus on everything going on around me, there's little time to read.

A 'Southern Benny' for breakfast

When I reach home it'll be 0630hrs in the morning for me, but it's only 1230pm in the afternoon for most English people. In other words I might be a little jet-lagged, but let's see. Sometimes it's not as bad as I think it's going to be.

I've caught the eye of a Snickers bar and might well have to buy it, but perhaps I'll resist as, well, I was about to say it's nearly lunch time but it's only 1029hrs so no, there is time to indulge. I haven't really eaten a lot of sweets on this trip so I might well hold out. And I have to ask myself: do I really need to eat a chocolate bar? The answer is a firm no, I don't. So I'll resist the temptation and get on with my life.

I've checked out. Incidentals of just $52.00, that's the beauty of not drinking alcohol, the bill is never gut-wrenchingly expensive. One thing I will say about the Moxy is the staff are really friendly. I'm going to miss the place despite moaning about no desk, no wardrobe, no tea and coffee-making facilities and so forth.