Coming home...

On my last night in Linz I took a stroll through the city in search of a decent restaurant. I walked up side roads in my quest and eventually stumbled upon Gottfried. It looked good, had an upmarket vibe to it and when I got inside and was handed the menu my suspicions were upheld. It was an upmarket establishment  with oddly depressing lighting that grated a little. It was also full but a table was found and I sat there looking at my fellow diners, some young, some old as I perused the menu. I wasn't going to pay 42 Euros for risotto and I didn't fancy a steak for 36 Euros so I settled for lemon chicken at 26 Euros. As I don't drink (it's been eight years now) I ordered a large bottle of mineral water and then awaited the arrival of the chicken. It was, in my opinion, awful. A small and thin piece of breast meat burnt around the edges and accompanied by mushy vegetables, mainly peppers, and, oddly, a sprinking of nuts. I noticed that somebody next to me had the same dish and I was tempted to lean over and say something disparaging about the meal, but decided not to. I declined dessert and left and then slowly walked back to my hotel. It was Halloween and there were plenty of people out and about dressed as witches or ghouls.

Breaking through the clouds heading for Vienna on Tuesday.

When I reached the hotel I couldn't be bothered to pack and eventually hit the sack. I didn't have to be up at the crack of dawn the next day, but I'm very much aware of how time simply runs away. I still had an early breakfast but this time, in addition to my healthy muesli, I ordered scrambled egg and a few sausages, two cups of tea and two small custard pastries (I love custard). And then the big debate, do I head for Vienna and the airport or hang around Linz for a while? In short, the latter, but I didn't really do a great deal of hanging around, no coffee shop for me; I packed up my stuff and then decided to walk to the station and not take a cab, it took around 20 minutes. 

Vienna railway station on the outward journey...nobody around.

It was a bank holiday and everything, even the coffee shops on the station concourse, were closed. I jumped on a train around 1000hrs, or just gone, and sat there looking out of the window in a state of preoccupation. On arrival in Vienna I took a train to the airport and after a little bit of faffing around doing the job of the airline staff (printing out a ticket for my suitcase, loading my suitcase on the conveyor) I headed for security, which was straightforward. Soon I was through and again time had run away. I had enough time to eat a snack lunch and then headed for the gate where I tried to charge my phone but none of the power points in one coffee shop worked so I had to move to the adjacent gate and use its power points. This meant that every five minutes I had to get up to make sure that my gate wasn't boarding. I was told that boarding wouldn't begin until half an hour before departure time and managed to charge my phone to 64% before I eventually did board. A woman sitting at the other gate agreed to watch my phone while I checked the situation at my gate, she was Dutch and on her way to Sarajevo but wouldn't be leaving until gone 10pm as she had missed her flight.We chatted briefly and then I unplugged my charged phone and queued up at my gate.

Lunch at Vienna airport on Tuesday

The flight was smooth, just like the outward journey, but it was dark so there was nothing to see. I started reading the National Geographic, which I'd purchased in one of the shops at the airport. The whole issue was dedicated to stress, something I have a lot of at this present time. I didn't order anything to eat or drink as I had a bottle of mineral water and that sufficed. The flight took around two hours and while we circled over Heathrow for some time, we eventually landed. I had the same seat as I had on the way out, seat 12F, an exit seat, and there was only one other person on my row  and he sat in the aisle, so we had an empty seat separating us. There was no turbulence, which was good, and towards the end of the flight we were all given a free chocolate, like on the way out a few days earlier. The difference was that the return journey's chocolate, wrapped like the one on the outward journey, was nutty. The chocolate on the outward journey was circular and didn't include nuts, I much preferred it, although the crew on the return journey were more generous and gave us two chocolates, not just the one. To be honest, when it comes to chocolates on planes you're better off flying Finnair as they offer Fazer chocolate, which is the very best in quality.

Everything was smooth running, passport control, baggage reclaim and then the Heathrow Express (I had bought a return ticket). I took the tube to Victoria and a short taxi ride from East Croydon. When I reached home I watched, yes, A Curious Life. It was much needed. I went to bed late and awoke this morning around 0700hrs, back to my normal breakfast and, thank God, no sausages.

The trip had been good and I'm glad I decided to go as I think I did myself a lot of favours, professionally speaking. I was in Linz to moderate a panel discussion and after a lot of preparation I think I managed to pull it off. I'm also glad to be home.

In Linz...

I won't say it hasn't been fraught because it has and in so many ways it's just me allowing the little annoying things in life to hit me hard. Normally, it starts with the taxi ride to the airport, but not today. He was fine, he said nothing and just drove me to Heathrow Terminal Two at the crack of dawn, 0600hrs to be precise, although I'd been up earlier. I probably hit the sack around 2300hrs or thereabouts on Saturday night, wishing I didn't have to get up early and fly to Vienna, but I did. I must have woken up around 0330hrs and decided to just lie there trying not to fret about anything. It's easy to start fretting about things and then there's no hope in hell of nodding off again. However, I must have started to nod off because, just as I did my alarm went off. It was 0500hrs.

Time to head for gate A25 and the 0905 flight to Vienna...

The first problem was there were no dishes so I had to skip breakfast. Most of them had leftover food in them and were residing in the fridge. I just couldn't be bothered. Then there was no bread so I scavenged around until I found a bag of brioche burger buns, toasted one of them but could only eat one side as the other bit was burnt. That annoyed me, so I had another one, with marmalade but not toasted. That and a cup of tea was breakfast. I did my final checks and then I was off, the taxi arrived and I was gone. Not that I particularly wanted to go. I wasn't looking forward to the flight and I'd found out that I could take a train all the way to Vienna and that it takes 16 hours, sometimes a little less. I liked the idea of a stress-free journey.

On the plane...

I started to get annoyed when I entered the terminal building. Where should I go to check in? It was zone B and when I got there I found self-service machines. Now, I hate self-service machines. I used to hate them in the supermarkets (and still do) and I hate them even more at airports. These days it seems that we're all expected to do half of the job for the supermarkets and airlines, but I note that the prices remain the same or possibly higher. I hate supermarkets with a vengeance mainly because we all know, like with all capitalist scum, they're not there for the customer, they're there for themselves. I always have this desire for vengeance but I haven't worked out how to exact it without getting myself in trouble (yet!). I fully support shoplifters, by the way, and I'm so glad that our inept Government has made so many cutbacks that our police forces are unable to deal with petty crimes like nicking stuff from shops. 

Standing a little angrily at the the check-in terminals a man asked me for a reference number. I thought my passport would be good enough and told him so. "No, you need a reference number." "Well, I haven't got one," I said aggressively and he said nothing. "What about a human being?" I asked and he pointed to a check-in terminal. I skulked over there and had my bag checked in and then went through security, which would have been fine had my bag not been sent along the track to be double-checked by a human. Normally, this is because the system detects something of interest in the case, but mine was just full of USBs and a couple of notebooks. It happens to me regularly now and it means I have to wait just a little bit longer than normal before I can chill at the café beyond the Society of the Spectacle. I waited and waited. There was a guy from Brisbane en route to Stockholm and he clearly missed the memo about liquids; he had loads of them, probably mainly belonging to his wife as he didn't look particularly cleansed (nor did his wife). The security guy spent ages checking every bottle. When my turn arrived it was fairly simple. Basically there was nothing wrong and soon I was on my way.

Time to catch the train into central Vienna...

Because I was generally in a bad mood, probably because I'd allowed a situation to develop where I would have to fly off early on a Sunday morning – forfeiting a ride with Andy – I didn't really enjoy the breakfast. I ordered granola and yoghurt with a pot of English breakfast tea and sat there inwardly scowling to myself about virtually everything. I appear to be surrounded by absolute wankers. Whichever way I turn, there they are and their sole purpose in life is to annoy me. The gate was announced at 0825 and shortly after that time I paid up and headed for gate A25. And then the next hassle. I stood queuing and when I reached the passport check lady she told me I was in the wrong queue, so I had to go back, I wasn't allowed to pass Go or collect £200, I was suddenly at the back of the queue. 

View from room 41, Dom Hotel, Linz on Sunday 17th Sept

Soon I was through and sitting in the plane. I thanked God for small mercies, namely a window seat (19F). Outside it wasn't that clear. A blanket of grey cloud shrouded England but there wasn't much of it. Soon after take-off we broke through and the flight, bar a few bumpy bits, was fine. I took the train from the airport to the centre of the city and then jumped on a train to Linz. There were a lot of people and I could already feel my hackles rising as the seats, most of them, were booked and my ticket didn't seem to have a reservation. I stood up waiting for somebody to claim where I hoped to be sitting, but they didn't so I could eat my lunch in peace, although throughout it I kept thinking some bastard was going to turn up and turf me out.

A word (or two) on the weather: it was fantastic. No cloud cover in Austria just blue skies and sunshine. It was hot and at one point on the train journey I saw people paddle boarding on a huge lake. Summer clearly hadn't left the building in Austria and, to be fair, it hadn't left the UK entirely.

Room 41, Dom Hotel, Linz

I was sleepy and kept drifting off, almost missing my stop. The train journey to Linz from Vienna took around three hours, but I wasn't counting so I couldn't be 100% sure. My taxi driver took me to the wrong hotel, although it must be a common mistake as both had the word 'Dom' in their name. I had to walk all of five minutes with that irritating sound of plastic casters on cobbled streets. It wasn't easy and at some points I pulled and yanked at my suitcase as if it was an unruly a dog on a lead, unwilling to do anything I asked. I arrived at the right hotel and checked in and then realised that none of my shirts were pressed, but there wasn't an iron in the hotel room. Fortunately there was one in reception so I spent around 20 minutes on the floor ironing three shirts and then placing them in the wardrobe on hangers, at least I'm ready for my first meeting tomorrow morning.

I went out for a wander around town. It was warm and there were lots of women with smooth legs wearing summer dresses. I stopped at a bakery and coffee shop, Bäckerei Danecker, and ordered an English breakfast tea. And for a short while I felt better. I managed to sit and read a bit more of Climbers by M John Harrison. I've very close to the end now and I don't really want to finish it, although I have another M John Harrison book, the Centauri Device, so all is well on that front. The tea was served in a clear plastic cup without a handle, it wasn't glass but it looked like glass and was hot (the tea, not the 'glass'). Towards the end of my stay, the woman behind the counter gave me a jam-filled bun for nothing. I was chuffed! Somebody DOES love me, I thought, not realising at first that it was filled with jam, not that the filling meant she didn't love me. It was pleasant and it almost prevented me from having dinner, but after getting fed up with walking around I found a café and took a seat outside under an awning. It was warm and summery and I ordered beef stroganoff and an alcohol-free wheat beer. Perfect. I continued reading and then decided to retrace my steps back to the hotel.

I ordered beef stroganoff and beer

There wasn't much open. It was Sunday and it was like being in the UK when Sundays were sacred and nothing was open. Today, of course, everything is open in England. When I reached the hotel, the lift was on the ground floor waiting for me so I jumped in and pressed the button and soon I was in my room. It's a large room but it has one of those bathrooms where the walls are frosted glass. Now that's annoying because when I'm in a hotel I like to sleep with a light on. Normally I put the bathroom light on and then shut the door so there's just a little bit of light illuminating the room, like a little jagged piece strutting out from the source. But if I put the bathroom light on here it will blast out light all over the place I won't be able to sleep so I'll have to sleep in darkness and leave the curtains drawn back and thereby rely upon the natural light of the city. I'm in Linz, I've been here a few times and I like it a lot. In fact, on my earlier wander I actually arrived at a bike shop I remember from a previous visit, but being as it's Sunday it was closed.

I'm drinking a refreshing Gasteiner sparkling mineral water, which is much needed and afterwards I'm considering using my trim wheel, which I've brought along on the trip. I might not, though. Actually I will, why not, keep it going. I've been doing it daily for at least 10 days, probably longer, but so far I haven't seen any results. But I'm carrying on with it.

Alcohol-free wheat beer...lovely!

The bed doesn't look very inviting, especially that duvet laying diagonally across it, but I won't be hitting the sack just yet. One of the wardrobe's sliding doors sounds like a yelping puppy whenever I open it. Everything is so sterile and sad but I'm hoping that I'll feel better in the morning. Time, I think, to flick through the television channels and either watch something in a foreign language I don't understand (that's fun – not!) or check out BBC World, another sterile lump of politically correct, fence-sitting rubbish, not that I'm the sort of person who's going to watch GB News or Talk TV, they're even worse!

It's just gone 2100hrs and I've yet to switch on the television. I think the trim wheel will be first, although I'll call home and have a chat. They're watching Gaslight but I'll speak to them later.

After a brief call home I hit the sack around 2300hrs. I switched off all the lights and just lay there deep in many thoughts, one of which was thinking of my hotel room as an apartment. It was big enough. I decided that I would put shelves on the far wall for books and that was basically it. There were other thoughts, many, many thoughts, but I can't remember them now. I eventually drifted off to sleep and awoke around 0400hrs. Then I must have drifted off because the alarm rang out at 0600hrs and I kept pressing 'snooze' until it was 0630hrs, then got up and showered. It's not a bad hotel room, quite spacious and bright, but the most annoying thing about it is the door key. I've always been full of praise for hotels that don't have key cards, but not in this instance. There are three keys on the ring and they all look similar so the first hassle is always finding the right key, then it's all about getting the key in the lock and ultimately it means putting on my glasses, trying one key, then the next, does it go in upside down or the right way up, what is the right way up? Just opening the door is a faff, believe me.

Breakfast downstairs on the ground floor is fine. I ordered muesli with yoghurt, sultanas and nuts, a green tea and a couple of small slices of bread with apricot marmalade, not forgetting a banana. I sat there texting and then headed back to the room.

A busy week lies ahead of me and I'm looking forward to getting home. Shame it's Heathrow and not Gatwick, but you can't win 'em all.

In Linz – and it's really hot here...

The Danube, Wednesday 8th August, 7pm...

Wednesday 8th August: I always wake up too early and this morning it was 0300hrs. I knew this because I heard the church clock chime three times. As always, the temptation was to get up, but I resisted and simply stayed put, I stood my ground against insomnia, and eventually won through and fell asleep. I woke at 0600hrs to the sound of birds chirping and tweeting, it was as if I was in the Amazon rain forest, but in reality I was in my hotel room in Linz, listening to the sound coming out of my iphone. The sound of exotic birds is a far more pleasant way of waking up than a storming alarm one has to get up and switch off. Eventually, however, when suitably accustomed to 'being awake' – which doesn't take me long – I got up and switched it off. I then spent an hour typing up my notes from yesterday (see yesterday's post for said notes) and then I headed downstairs to the hotel's restaurant for breakfast.

I can't say I was impressed by breakfast. I had a peppermint tea, Ronnefeldt, in a good-sized mug with a colourful handle (which I later noticed was the hotel's motif and could be found on all the hotel room doors). I bring up the subject of mugs and cups because in a lot of hotels the mug (or cup) is always too small to really enjoy and I find myself stuffing the teabag into the mug or cup and not really enjoying the end result. Well, not at the Park Inn by Radisson. I had a proper mug with a coloured handle and believe me, it made a big difference to my day. But the rest of the breakfast was disappointing and it cost me 18 Euros (12 Euros if I go and book for tomorrow morning at reception when I finish breakfast today).

The main square, Wednesday 8th August

The breakfast room is a narrow space with a long bar on the right hand side and seating (some of it high) on the left. The food on offer stretches the length of the bar and beyond and consists of the usual suspects: there's the cooked breakfast of fried egg, sausage and beans, and there's the cereals, there's a few cheeses and pastries, fruit juices and fresh fruit as well as tinned, but it all looks a little tired and not very inviting. As a result, I've only had a bowl of muesli with added seeds plus a fried egg and two smallish sausages. It's not as relaxing as I had expected, put it that way, and the shape of the room means there's a bit of walking involved too and we all know the effort involved in that first thing in the morning: get a bowl of cereal, walk back to the table, go back to the food display, choose something else and walk back again – there's a lot of tooing and fro-ing and I've definitely picked the wrong seat, the farthest away from the action, so to speak. The other alternative, of course, is to see how much you can stack up in both hands, but that often ends in disaster, with the whole lot hitting the floor with a crash, other guests being splashed by falling orange juice and having their trousers ruined by a helping of baked beans or some raspberry yoghurt. On this occasion, of course, I had clearly selected the wrong seat – but any exercise is good, so do I care? No, of course not.

Note the lack of traffic. Nice isn't it?

However, I'll take back what I said about the fresh fruit as they've replenished it and the new batch looks bright and colourful and worth eating. There's also some broken up cookies so I've taken a few chunks, poured myself a second mint tea and now I'm relatively happy, although perhaps the cookie was a bridge too far. I wish I knew where I could buy Ronnefeldt teas. Peppermint in German is 'pfefferminze'.

It's another fine day outside. There's a hazy early morning sun and I feel the need for a walk after that cookie and 'the full Austrian' even if I did have no more than a fried egg and two small sausages. A walk will sort it out.

Or will a walk sort anything out? It appears to me that I have a big problem with eating at the moment and the biggest offender is cakes. I can't help myself, especially here in Linz. I weakened at lunch time and then, just now, I weakened again. A mint tea simply wouldn't do, would it? I had to have a little cake with a couple of strawberries on top, I couldn't leave it alone. It can only mean one thing: another walk – but can I walk far enough to burn off the calories? I doubt it, but let's at least try.

Dinner at the Park Inn by Radisson, Linz...

I walked to the river, the Danube, crossed the bridge and kept on walking until the city ran out, past Lentia City (a small shopping mall with more restaurants than shops) and I found myself getting dangerously close to suburbia and normal lives. I turned and walked back, clocking a sign that told me it was hot – 34 degrees C, now that's hot when you consider it was gone 1900hrs.

I crossed back over the bridge and made my way past countless shops before I started to think of dinner. I considered an Italian, but in the end decided to eat in the hotel restaurant: tomato soup, tuna steak with risotto, a small side salad and a couple of alcohol-free wheat beers. All seemed fine with the world – until I got back to my room. Suddenly, I felt hot around the back of my neck, my pulse was up and my head was throbbing and I notice that my entire body was now red and blotchy: my arms, legs, torso, my face, the lot. My stomach was sticking out too, making me appear malnourished like those kids in Africa you see on documentaries or the television news. Heatstroke, or heat exhaustion (I checked online for symptoms). All that walking in 34 deg C heat, what a fool. I went downstairs and bought two large bottles of still mineral water and when I returned to my room I switched the air con on full blast while I guzzled the water. After a short while I started to feel better, my pulse dropped and, miraculously, the red and blotchy skin disappeared completely, although my head ached, which is rare for me as I never get headaches.

This is how I felt the following morning...

I went to bed, having switched the air con back to automatic. While I did wake up at 0300hrs, I remained in bed and fell asleep, waking at 0600hrs. I showered and shaved and brushed my teeth and headed for breakfast: muesli, seeds, mint tea and a small pastry. It's Thursday morning and I feel fine now and I'm beginning to wonder whether it was a heat-related ailment or something else. Perhaps I'd had an allergic reaction to the tuna steak, I don't know, but I feel fine and inclined to have one more mint tea.

I can't say I'm happy with the breakfasts here at the Park Inn by Radisson, but being English, I won't complain, there's no need to because there's nothing wrong, it's just in my head, merely something I see – or think I see – that others wouldn't necessarily bother about: the shape of the space, the vibe, I don't know, but I have an issue with it. I'll probably go on Trip Advisor and try to express my feelings there. Don't get me wrong, it's fine overall, I won't be complaining, but there's something about the way things are set out, something about the space in which the whole experience resides. I'm here early today so the food offering is certainly less tired-looking than it was yesterday, which is a plus point for early risers.

Today I check out and later I'll be heading back to Vienna by train and then to my favourite hotel, Motel One, Messe Prater, which is right next door to this great city's famous fairground with it's Third Man Ferris wheel.

It's another sweltering hot day and I plan to keep out of the sun as I don't want a repeat of last night's nightmare.

Right! Time for another mint tea.

In Vienna...

I reached Vienna at 1630hrs...

It's Friday morning, 0625hrs, and I'm in my favourite hotel of all time: Motel One Wien-Prater. The last time I was here was back in June when the weather was hot, the skies blue and the sun burning hot. It's much colder now and I notice that the bikes they had for hire have gone, they must have been a seasonal offering. I was going to hire a bike and cycle around the city today, but clearly that's not going to be possible, I'll have to walk. It's my first day without any meetings, so effectively I've got a free day as I don't need to be at the airport until around 1630hrs for a flight to London two hours later.

When I was last here, I raved (yes I raved) about the tropical fish screensaver on the television in my room, it was so chilled out. I remember how the receptionist on the front desk told me that in winter it changes to a roaring log fire, and sure enough that's exactly what it is – and once again, I love it. Last night I went to bed with the log fire roaring and when I woke up it was gone, it must have switched itself off during the night. I'm now watching CNBC Europe, more as background noise than anything else. I'm wide awake and drinking a glass of mineral water I purchased last night (EUR4.50) from a sullen, humourless barman here at the hotel. It's quite amazing how some people simply don't have any sense of humour. I made a comment about the bottle being made of glass, not plastic (which is rare for mineral water) and he looked at me as if I'd just admitted to being a neo-nazi.

Leonding's huge shopping mall...

Yesterday I took a taxi to a small town outside of Linz called Leonding, the boyhood home of Adolf Hitler, something nobody mentioned to me when I said I was going there. And no, I'm not a neo-Nazi and Hitler was not the reason for my visit. There is a huge shopping mall in Leonding and I mean huge. I had lunch there and then wandered around looking for some form of transportation to get back to Linz. I found a tram and after about 15 minutes or so, I was back and heading along Steinstrasse towards my hotel where I picked up my suitcase and headed, on foot, to the railway station. There was a train to Wien (Vienna) at 1516 and then a short ride on the metro to Messe Prater (line U1 to Prater-Stern, change to U2 and ride just one stop to Messe Prater). The hotel is right outside the metro station (take the Prater exit).

Something else I remember from last time I checked into this Motel One was the queue at the front desk. I stood there for a good 15 minutes waiting to check in, like last time, but the wait didn't bother me, I was glad to be here in the dark and cosy bustling lobby where there was plenty of people relaxing with a drink, chatting and laughing. Last time, I was on the third floor, this time the first, in Room 165, but the room is exactly the same and has the same spotlights over the bed that last time I couldn't figure out how to switch off and had to resort to the receptionist coming up from the lobby to help me. How embarrassing, I thought, but then, yesterday evening around 1700hrs I found myself in the same situation: how to turn the damned things off. While I remembered what the receptionist had done in June, I couldn't for the life of me find the switch and was about to call the front desk (again) when I found it.

For me, at present, waking up at 0625hrs is classed as a good night's sleep, thanks to decent pillows and that 'roaring log fire' on the television on the wall opposite the bed. CNBC Europe is saying that Saudi Arabia is pumping US$19 billion into its economy.

Last night I went to L'Osteria, a restaurant I found the last time I was here; it's close to the fairground on Freudplatz 2 and I'm not sure I like it. It's one of those large spaces, very noisy, and it sells pizza and pasta from a laminated menu, but there's also a specials selection, which I always go for and then feel slightly disappointed when the meal arrives. It was pot luck anyway as the menu was in German and I based my choice on seeking out familiar words, although I can't think of anything familiar about Garganelli Buongusta, can you? Basically it's pasta with chunks of ham and whole olives. It was alright, but not brilliant, and it was accompanied by a small mixed salad and an Erdinger non-alcohol beer. I sat there alone, squeezed between 'couples'. It was too dark and noisy to read so I checked and responded to emails on my phone and then considered dessert, but it was the usual gooey stuff so I paid up and walked back through the deserted fairground. In the summer it would have been very busy and noisy, lots of screaming people being flung about on scary-looking rides, but now there was nobody here, the rides were shrouded in darkness and covered with tarpaulins. It was about a 15-minute walk back to the hotel.

The roaring log fire – perfect!

I've said it before and I'll say it again, I love Motel One – certainly this one close to the fairground. I love the bustling lobby. There's a long, wooden table opposite the front desk, with powerpoints, so I fetched my laptop from the room and spent about an hour writing this and that before heading back to my room and getting the aforementioned good night's sleep. All that remains now, at 0625hrs, is to shower and head down for breakfast.

In Linz, Austria...

While it seems like only yesterday since I was last in Linz, it is, in fact, just over a year. It's amazing how familiar it all seems when I consider that I've only been here once before, in October 2016, and yet everything, from the moment I arrived was instantly memorable. I was in Vienna, of course, in June this year and had a lovely time riding around the city in the sunshine on a bike I hired from the hotel, Motel One.

Travel is fraught with problems and very often I find that one minor thing will trigger loads of unnecessary hassle, although perhaps that's exaggerating slightly. Last night at around 11pm I ordered a taxi to pick me up around 0600hrs this morning and they always ask about the terminal. Whenever I order a taxi, certainly early in the morning, it's always to the airport. "Terminal Five," I said over the telephone, having retrieved my travel documents.

The following morning I was rudely awakened by the sound of my iphone alarm and jumped swiftly out of bed to deactivate it, momentarily switching it to 'snooze' before realising and turning the damned thing off. I then went about a few bits of last-minute packing (unpressed shirts, so I'll need to search my hotel room for an iron later on).

Breakfast consisted of 11 grapes and eight raspberries in a bowl, a glass of orange juice, a croissant and a cup of decaffeinated tea. In addition to not drinking (which I'm starting to enjoy) I'm also avoiding caffeine. Neither the non-drinking or the refusal to allow much caffeine past my lips are the result of being told to lay off anything (if I wanted to I could simply order a beer or a glass of wine and I do occasionally accept caffeinated tea, but my preference, at present, is to avoid caffeine and alcohol and, as I just said, I'm rather enjoying it). Why? Well, mainly it's good to be in the real world, meaning that I'm not worried all the time about whether I'm 'over the limit' to drive or whether drinking a cup of tea late at night will mean no sleep until the early hours. I can drink a cup of decaff at any time of the day. As for the alcohol, I'm really not missing it, but I must stress that I haven't given up drinking because of some embarrassing incident that has forced me to reappraise my general attitude towards life. No, the reason I stopped, as I've said before, is that I had an inner ear infection or some kind of vertigo issue, probably brought about by overdoing it in the USA (I flew, as you know, to Memphis via Chicago, then drove a car to Arkansas and back and then flew first to Dallas and then to London, all in four days – not a good idea. Anyway, apparently, dizziness and alcohol don't really mix so I stopped the latter and turned to peppermint tea, which I love. I just don't need it and plan to remind 'dry' (as people with drink problems say) into the New Year. I might even attempt to go 12 months without drinking and in all honesty I don't see such a feat as problematic so I might as well have a go.

Lunch, Café Ritazza, Terminal 3, Vienna

Fortunately, there's a new wave of non-alcoholic beers on the market. I'd rather drink non-alcohol beer than fizzy drinks because I know that fizzy drinks are pretty bad news all round, full of sugar and God knows what else, and likewise fruit juices, which are packed with sugar. Mineral water? Well, alright, I don't mind the stuff, but on a night out (not that I have any nights out) water seems a bit frugal. Anyway, enough of all this not drinking chat, it's boring and nobody really cares so I'll shut up. Suffice it to say that, for the moment, I've stopped and I haven't made my mind up when I intend to start again, if at all.

When I reached Terminal Five the check-in machine alerted me to a problem, like perhaps I was in the wrong terminal. It turned out my travel documents were wrong and that I should have been in Terminal 3 – very annoying as I had to take the Heathrow Express one stop and then the hassles began. For a start I was randomly chosen for the 'hands above the head' scanner and then they searched my bag (I'd left toothpaste in there). Irritating as it meant there was no time for breakfast.

I had enough time to check out a couple of bookstores and thumb through a few books before I headed to Gate 9 for my 1hr, 55 minutes flight to Vienna.

When I reached Vienna after a reasonably good flight in, of all places, 'business class' – or Club Europe as British Airways call it – I found that the next direct train to Linz departed Flughafen Wien at 1433hrs from Platform 2, giving me plenty of time to enjoy lunch in a Café Ritazza in Terminal 3 of Wien Airport. I ordered a non-alcohol Paulaner and a Chicken Club Sandwich, which arrived with a portion of chips and two sachets, one containing tomato ketchup, the other mayonnaise. As only the Europeans like mayo on their chips, I opened up the ketchup and spread it liberally over the chips. This really was a decent meal and it cost a reasonable EUR17.80. Actually, going back to 'not drinking' for a second (I know, it's boring) but it's worth pointing out that not drinking seems to suppress the old appetite too. Not in a big way (I still can't wait for dinner when I get home of an evening) but for me, the high point of drinking, certainly while I'm travelling, is that moment when I'm in a restaurant, meal ordered and wine on the way, normally a 250ml glass of Merlot (and very often two). It's the thought of that glass of wine that prompts me to get out and find a restaurant early. But now that I'm not going to indulge, I'm sitting here in my hotel room, writing and won't go out for a while as all I'm doing now is refuelling rather than enjoying the experience. Perhaps that's not a good thing. Perhaps all I'm doing is shutting things down that I find pleasurable and one day I will be left with nothing worth living for; in fact I do feel a bit like I'm shutting down, as if I'm a robot, like HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey and that somebody's switching off various circuits and cutting off any enjoyment in the process. Not that this has anything to do with anybody else – or 'enjoyment' for that matter – it's all my own doing, my own decision-making processes.

I love the Café Ritazza brand – and this one was excellent

I ought to mention something about Club Europe, especially after my recent rant about the BA flight back to London from Dallas at the end of October (click here for more). For a start, on short-haul flights it's hardly worth it: there are no beds in which to fully recline, all you get is a vacant space between you and the other passenger in the row, as if the middle seat isn't occupied. Then there's the full English breakfast served on a proper plate and with stainless steel cutlery, not to mention a proper mug for tea, not a paper cup, it's a bit like being in a poncy restaurant with waiters fussing around me. Now I know why they draw that curtain across, cutting off Club Europe from the proles behind, it's because there's so much care and attention and polite manners going on up front, it's embarrassing and the 'lower orders' out back might get restless, a little green with envy. BA doesn't want those in the cheap seats seeing how the other half lives, there might be a revolution. I've always hated the notion that money buys respect.

After lunch I took the train to Linz, arriving around 1630hrs. I jumped into a taxi for a ride to the hotel, checked in and then tried to make my way to the room 307, except that nobody told me the lift only worked if I used my key card to activate it. I spent a long time in that lift, just standing there looking like an idiot and wondering what the hell was going on until somebody told me about the room card.

Leaving Flughafen Wien and heading for Linz – two hours up the track

The journey from Vienna to Linz was pleasant enough. I dozed off at one stage and at other times I read the paper or gazed out of the window. There's something magical about a winter's afternoon between the hour of 4pm and 5pm and I don't know why. Perhaps it's the fading light, the unfamiliar, darkened suburban houses, memories of carefree days. Everything looks welcoming, even the bleakest of landscapes, Christmas lights in trees and the prospect of time at home, chilling and watching festive television late into the night.

It was time for me to head out into the night and find somewhere to eat. I asked at reception and was told to turn left outside of the hotel, then right, then left, which I did and found myself on some kind of main street lined with brightly decorated shop fronts and festive decorations draped across the street. Shops but not restaurants bar a few pubby-looking places that didn't appeal. After a 10-minute walk I found Pizzeria Ristorante Da Vinci Linz. I found a table, tucked away, perfect for the solitary diner, and ordered Tomatensuppe (tomato soup) followed by Risotto Milanese and washed down with a glass of non-alcohol beer. In all honesty the meal wasn't that brilliant. I liked the soup, but the risotto was, well, it looked a bit like something the cat might have brought up, a pale, colourless mush that sat on the plate without any aplomb. If it had more colour it would have been best described as a 'pavement pizza' and talking of pizza, that would have been the best option, I'm sure of it. The non-alcohol beer was fine, but the combination of the risotto and the 'lifeless' beer made for a depressing evening alone. I mean, it's depressing enough without food that fails to ignite the soul. Fortunately it only set me back EUR14.70 and because I was of sound mind I didn't feel the urge to seek out an Austrian bar and later wake up with a furry tongue in need of a litre of mineral water in the dead of night.

I walked back along damp, puddle-littered streets, past the glowing shop fronts and into my hotel. I'm pretty tired and looking forward to an early night. Remember, I was up at 0500hrs this morning. Goodnight.

In Vienna...day three

Cycle path by the Neue Donai...

I'd fallen into a routine: Wake up around 0600hrs, hit the breakfast room around 0700hrs to 0730hrs, hire a bike from reception for 12 Euros and then ride to the convention centre. Then, my work done, I'd get back on the bike and ride around the city until I exhausted myself and was in need of food and drink. Yesterday, my third day in this great city, the format was the same. When I finished work, this time around 1630hrs because of an official dinner being held at 1900hrs at the City Hall (or Rathaus as it's known here) I jumped on the bike with a view to riding to the aforementioned Rathaus to see if it was possible to ride there, but in the end I decided to take the metro like everybody else.

So I'm on the bike and I'm half way across the bridge, coming back from the convention centre, when I remembered the right turn a few yards behind me; where, I wondered, does it go to? A question I answered myself by turning around and checking it out. The answer is that it runs between the bank of the Danube on one side and the Neue Donai (I'm guessing 'new Danube') on the other. I rode a long way in the heat, past people sunbathing and, in some cases, swimming in the river and in the Neue Donai. The water, it must be said, looked very inviting, especially the Neue Donai, where most people seemed to be swimming, kids too, and let's not forget the swans who co-existed peacefully with the people or holidaymakers or whatever you wish to call them.

On the banks of the Danube...

I rode for what seemed like ages until the tarmac path turned to gravel and I figured that getting a puncture wouldn't be too clever as I'd have to walk miles back to the bridge and then a good 40 minutes more to the hotel, dragging the bike along with me. I was quite amazed to see people wild swimming in the Danube as it didn't look that safe a place to swim. Earlier, when a wind had picked up, the water was very choppy, but close to the banks it was calmer and I never saw anybody out in the middle, where it would have been dangerous for sure.

Swans on the Neue Donau where they share the water with us humans

The Neue Donai was a different story, it was calmer, but it was still a wide piece of water, not dissimilar to the Danube. There was a windsurfer going at some speed and a pedalo close to the far bank, but let's not mistake it for something ultra safe; it was deep water and I'm guessing you can't take anything for granted.

Safe swimming in the Neue Donai? You decide...

On my journey back I spotted many people sunbathing on the banks of the Danube and the Neue Donai and began to wish I'd bought my trunks. I distinctly remembered being at home on Sunday morning and saying that I wouldn't pack my trunks because I never, ever use them. Well, here was my chance to do some wild swimming and I couldn't, not that I would have, because the water looked a little dangerous and deep, but people were out there treading water, kids and all, so perhaps I would have chanced my arm, and besides, perhaps my cautious approach was influenced by the ridiculous health and safety culture that has developed in the UK which, let's face it, makes us all chronically risk averse.

A new sign wouldn't go amiss...

Eventually I reached the bridge and had to carry the bike up a few stairs to reach the cycleway that crosses the Danube; but then it was plain sailing (or plain cycling) across the river and straight ahead. I rode down to the big roundabout, circled it, rode down Prater Strasse, past Café Ansari, stopped outside the Sofitel, thinking better of riding to the Rathaus, which had been my original intention. It was hot and time was running out so I doubled back, followed Prater Strasse back to the fairground and then rode towards Motel One where I handed in the bike.

Later I took the metro from Messe-Prater to Rathaus (about five stops) and enjoyed the splendour of the City Hall. Dinner was fine, but after a day of working the last thing I wanted to do was 'talk shop' so perhaps I should have stayed on the bike, cycled around, found a restaurant and enjoyed my own company. Still, you live and learn. And now, as I write this, it's Day Four for me in Vienna. I'll be flying back home later today and I still need to pack my stuff and check out. But first, perhaps a walk, I'm not sure. I hate checking out of hotels, especially good hotels like Motel One, but needs must so I'd better sign off and besides, the chambermaid has just reminded me of the noon check-out time so I ought to start packing.

I regularly review the hotels I stay in on Trip Advisor. For all my Trip Advisor reviews, click here.

In Vienna...

Took the train to Gatwick airport, enjoyed a chicken sandwich and a glass of Merlot at the airport – by the time I was through security it was lunch time – and then I flew off with British Airways to Vienna in Austria. Great flight, the highlight being the Island Bakery biscuits that were handed out by the cabin crew. I was tempted to ask for more, but from bitter experience I knew I didn't want the portion control conversation. Besides, it was only a one hour, 55-minute flight so I wasn't going to starve to death.

The flight itself was amazing – British Airways always is amazing. Clear skies all the way and no turbulence – it's always good when there's no turbulence.

Mr & Mrs Feelgood's home-made cheesecake – excellent

We landed safely and it took me a while to get my act together and find a taxi, having taken the Express train to the centre of Vienna. But eventually I found one, and 12 Euros later I arrived at my hotel, which at first I thought was going to be a little suspect, but within minutes I realised it was – and I get accused of saying this about everything – a really good place.

My room was one of the so-called 'executive rooms' and it's nice. The bathroom door is made of frosted glass, which, for some reason, I like, and guess what? The hotel has everything covered, something I always worry about. Thanks to the threat of terrorism I didn't bring any toothpaste with me; always a problem, and unless I check my bag in to the hold, I'm scuppered if I bowl up with a tube of toothpaste. But I was ahead of the game as I didn't have any toothpaste when I started out. The plan was to buy some when I arrived in Vienna, but of course I forgot. So it's late, I've had a cheap and cheerful meal in a Nordsee outlet close to the hotel – it might well have been my first ever visit to a Nordsee – and I'm back in the hotel wishing I'd remembered the toothpaste. Why is it that hotels NEVER have any toothpaste in the bathroom? They have everything else, even a sewing kit – does anybody ever use it? I know I wouldn't, because I can't sew to save my life. And then it happened! My hotel DOES have toothpaste! Top marks!

There was a minibar – always good, not that I go mad and work my way through all the beers like I might have done in the past, but I like minibars. There are hotels that offer the fridge, but it's either empty or, worse still, locked, and to me that means just one thing: the hotel doesn't trust its guests.

Free WiFi is available – great if you're a blogger, like what I is – and the bed is okay too, although European hotel duvets are just like making do with a paper napkin to keep warm. What is good is the lighting, particularly the desk light; and let's give a bit of credit to the coat hangers as they're not at all unruly and are currently holding my shirts and stuff without complaining or making a fuss.

There's a safe, containing my passport, and there's a wall-mounted television – an LG. They're always LG, but all the stations bar CNN are foreign or dubbed and besides, I'm not a television sort of guy, unless I'm in the USA where the programmes are so bad it's worth watching. More on the hotel breakfast later.

I brushed my teeth, jumped into bed and nothing happened. I was wide awake, and while I might have nodded off for an hour, I awoke at 0100hrs and couldn't get back to sleep so I got up and worked. Yes, I worked! I wrote three news stories (I won't bore you about my job, though). By around 0245hrs I flopped back into bed and I must have got around four hours sleep before the alarm on my iphone shook me awake. I showered, dressed and hit the breakfast room. Wonderful! The whole works! It was all there and why wouldn't it be? Cereal, cake, fresh fruit, tea, fruit juices, croissants, yoghurt. I could have enjoyed a cooked breakfast, and almost did, but my pig detector went off so I settled for what I'd already eaten – which was virtually everything else, including a piece of cake. I like Europe. They eat cake for breakfast in Europe.

Vienna, of course, is a very cultured place; even the buskers here are classically trained musicians belting out Vivaldi's Four Seasons on street corners. There are some pleasant things to look at in the Austrian capital, like St Stephan's Cathedral – a short walk from my hotel – and it goes without saying that this city has a lot to offer. But I guess I'm not going to see much of it on this trip; there's no time to get around the city before flying back to London. All I'm going to see is shop fronts (yes, they're all here, Mango, Zara, a woman's dream, they've even got shops that left the UK a long time ago, like Spar supermarkets where, incidentally, they don't appear to sell any Lipton's Yellow Label tea. I bring that up because virtually everywhere else in Europe it's for sale, but not here in Vienna. I'm sure Unilever has its reasons, but who I am to know what they might be? In fact I'm sure Unilever has it's reasons for not selling Lipton's Yellow Label tea in the UK, but why not, I don't know. Perhaps it is available, but I've never seen it.

Nope, it's not a mosque...and it's in Vienna, not Abu Dhabi

With breakfast over I walked for about 25 minutes, well, possibly 20, and then I reached my business destination. Now I'm sounding like a SatNav. At odd intervals during the day I managed to get out and walk around and on one excursion I found a bike shop selling those 'sit up and beg' Danish bicycles with chain guards, mudguards, dynamos and all those things you rarely see on bikes these days. Even Brooks saddles! I spent time chatting with the shopkeeper and he said that the more upright you are on a bicycle, the wider the saddle you'll need. Now I didn't know that before. I also didn't know that Brooks saddles can soak up water, so if you have one you'll need to cover it with a plastic bag if it looks like rain as, apparently, they soak up the water and remain wet for days. Not pleasant.

I popped into Mr & Mrs Feelgood, a kind of coffee shop with a health slant to it, selling drinks with the word 'Detox' in the title as well as a pretty amazing homemade cheese cake, among other things. I ordered the last piece and a cup of Earl Grey, the only black tea on offer.

All day I've been feeling depressed and sorry for myself and it's made me not want to be here. And the fact that I'm not going to get any time for sightseeing increases my overall 'down in the dumps' mood. I've kind of been looking forward to this moment all day, sitting here in front the computer in my hotel room, the sound of Vivaldi playing somewhere out there (seriously, it's playing now) and chilling out with a bottle of mineral water and a small bottle of Pago orange juice from the aforementioned minibar. It's almost 2200hrs and I'm looking forward to brushing my teeth and hitting the sack.

Normally, when I'm feeling a little more upbeat, I try to find a coffee shop from where I can read my book – currently Ken Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest – and I chill with a huge mug of tea and a cookie. But not today, although I did find a Starbucks. Perhaps later. No, all I want is, well, I don't know what I want if the truth be known, but I do want peace and serenity more than anything, so I guess I do know what I want and I'm just kidding myself by saying I don't.

Somebody is out there, in the streets below me right now, this second, playing Vivaldi on a violin. I hope he keeps it up as I'd imagine there's nowt better than lying on my back in bed, 'adopting the position' and hearing the Four Seasons, live, and only a few feet away from me.

One thing I would like to see – and possibly experience – is that Ferris wheel that features in the film of Graham Green's novel The Third Man, which was set in Vienna. I've read most of Green's novels and I'm wondering now whether it was The Third Man that features a hotel room in which there was a painting of the Bay of Naples on the wall. Weird if it is, because here I am in Vienna and only a week or two ago I was in Naples. A long time ago I was on the Greek island of Spetses reading John Fowles' The Magus, now there's a coincidence (which you'll only understand if you've read The Magus).

I'm hoping I'll be in a more upbeat mood tomorrow.

Because the date and time is often out of kilter on this blog, I'll let you know now that today is Wednesday 31 August, it's currently 2155hrs and I'm about to hit the sack. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I should be out there drinking in one of the many bars close to my hotel, munching a Viennese Whirl, perhaps, and listening to Vivaldi. Well, I'm doing the latter right now, but I'll give the bars and the cake a miss. Perhaps tomorrow, but in all honesty, I'm travelling alone, not that I'm complaining, but when you travel alone you walk a lot – or I do. In fact I've walked a lot today and now I'm feeling a little weary, and there's nothing better than hitting the sack when I'm feeling weary, so goodnight all and we'll talk again tomorrow.