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.

Returning home – where standards are in free fall...

Friday 10th August: Another fine day on the weather front. I woke up in Vienna on a beautiful morning and after checking the computer, I moseyed on down for breakfast – nothing fancy, just muesli, vanilla yoghurt and a mint tea. At Motel One, people were having breakfast outside, but I stayed in and afterwards returned to my room to answer emails and then pack up and check out. I wish I'd packed the night before, showered early and got out in the air, but I slobbed around and eventually checked out with about an hour to spare before I needed to head for the airport.

View from Room 103, Motel One, Vienna

I took a walk around streets I remembered from my previous visits and then took a last look at the fairground, which has a completely different vibe during the day; the rides aren't as colourful, there's less people, but the rides keep going and people continue enjoying themselves. Being there was a bit like taking one last look at the sea as a kid before dad drove us home from a fortnight in Felpham or Middleton-on-Sea and we had a long, hot summer ahead of us playing in the back garden. In the end, I resigned myself to the fact that I needed to get on the move and, sadly, experience the hassles of travelling again.

I went from Messe Prater on line U2 to Praterstern and from there changed to line U1 and rode to the hauptbahnhof where I picked up a train to Vienna airport. On the platform, waiting for the 1412hrs train, I met an employee of OBB, the railway company. He was on his way to catch a flight to Zurich from where he would pick up a train and ride back to Vienna. He was a nice bloke, wearing the company uniform, which was smart, and he told me he'd been working for OBB for eight years. Clearly he enjoyed his job. He spoke about long train journeys to Bucharest and Warsaw and all over Europe and I'll admit that I did envy him. He seemed extremely happy and clearly loved talking about his job as a train manager, in charge of dealing with unruly people, answering passengers' questions, checking tickets and generally being the guy to go to if you needed something. On the way to the airport he pointed out a huge oil refinery on the outskirts of Vienna. Here, he said, the country receives its oil from Russia. He said that Vienna was home to the largest cemetery in Europe and pointed it out. In between the trees I spotted the odd headstone.

Inside Room 103. Eat your heart out, Emin!

When the 1412hrs airport train arrived we parted company, but never shook hands as we simply got carried away in the crowd; he was heading for Terminal 3 while I needed Terminal 1. Here at Vienna, security is at the gate, which in a way is good as that whole tedious process is broken up somewhat. There's passport control and then nothing until just before you fly. I headed towards gate D22 where I discovered my flight was delayed, it turned out considerably delayed. Initially, though, just 20 minutes, so I sat in the restaurant close to the gate and ordered a chicken pannini and a mint tea. Once I'd boarded the plane we had to sit there for an hour waiting for 'our slot' to land at Heathrow. But eventually we took off and there was a lot of cloud. The seat next to me on the flight was vacant so I could spread out a little bit, which was good. I read a bit of my book, Don't Skip Out on Me by Willy Vlautin, but spent most of the time looking out the window at the clouds below. Eventually the high cloud cleared and the picture outside the window was the same as always: cotton wool cloud below and blue skies above. It was a pleasant flight as I was in seat 12a, an exit row, so I had more leg room too.

My phone ran out of power, which was annoying. On arrival at Heathrow T3 I found a Caffe Nero, ordered a teacake and a mint tea and sat there waiting for the phone to charge, but it didn't – the plugs weren't working. I was, after all, back in the UK where standards have dropped severely and were as nothing when compared to those in Austria. From a place where trains run on time and are spotless clean to a place were train carriages have a liberal sprinkling of crumbs and fast food wrappers on the floors and seats. From a place where people are well-dressed and smart to a place where people shuffle along in jeans and trainers and wear bleak colours; from a place where train travel is relatively cheap to a place where it costs £270 to travel to and from London to Liverpool – thanks to Virgin's old beardy. I could go on but I won't. Well, alright, I will go on. How about this: I've been wearing white shirts all week, wandering around Austrian cities and they've remained spotless clean. I was in London for no more than 30 minutes and a I found a grey stripe of dirt running from one end of my left sleeve to the other. Why? Because I was back in the UK.

Did you know that the healthiest city in the world is Amsterdam followed by Oslo? Me neither, but guess what, London doesn't make the top 25. Click here for more. Interesting to note how most of the cities in the top 25 are in Europe. One, Mangalore, is in Southern India, it came 24th. There are others outside of Europe, but not many. Wellington in New Zealand and Perth in Western Australia both made the list and were high up.

In the end, having finished my teacake and drank my mint tea I headed home. The weather was cooler than Austria's 35C, but that was the only plus point.

In Vienna – and it's still sweltering hot

Thursday 9th August: I probably woke up in the night, but again I remained in bed and got up around 0600hrs. I had to pack and check out of the Park Inn by Radisson and have breakfast, not necessarily in that order, and then my aim, after yesterday, was to avoid the heat. It's virtually impossible to keep out of the sun, but I'll do my best.

At Linz station I had another pastry...

After checking out, I left my suitcase at the hotel and headed off in search of a tram to a place called Plus City; it's a huge shopping mall in a place called Leonding on the outskirts of Linz. I needed to board tram 3 or 4, and number 4 arrived. I had a business appointment close to the mall, which culminated in lunch at L'Osteria back at Plus City. As I write this, coincidentally, I am sitting in L'Osteria in Vienna, close to the fairground. Between my lunch at Plus City and now I've travelled by train from Linz to Vienna. First I took a tram from Plus City to Linz, then, after a brief walk back to the hotel to retrieve my suitcase and freshly dry-cleaned shirts, three of them, I re-packed my suitcase to accommodate the shirts and then headed for the tram again. The tram took me to the hauptbahnhof (railway station) and there I purchased a ticket to Vienna. I was scheduled to ride the 1616hrs, which, uncharacteristically for Austria, was delayed, but only by 15 minutes.

It doesn't matter where in the world I go, there's no escaping people these days; they're everywhere and they're always on trains, so the chance of a seat alone was out of the question and it was very hot, but the train was air-conditioned so all was well. I considered upgrading to first class but in the end I contented myself with the usual pastime of reading the news on my mobile phone, reading my book –Willy Vlautin's latest, Don't Skip Out on Me – and looking out of the window at the passing scenery. I was sharing a table with an Indian gentleman and his wife. He was doing something on a Lenovo lap top, she was just sitting there looking out of the window, like I was. It was a pleasant enough journey and now I'm in Vienna. But once I'd arrived at the main station I tried (successfully) to remember how to get to my favourite hotel, which is Motel One, just outside of Messe Prater metro station; and no, that's not why it's called, in fact it isn't called Metro One, it's called Motel One, I'm losing my marbles because it's hot and sweaty everywhere – 35 degrees today, so my shirt is sticking to my back, you know what I'm saying.

Arriving at Vienna Hauptbahnhof, Wednesday 9 August 2018

I took the U1 line to Praterstern and changed on to the U2 line for one stop to Messe Prater. Then it was a case of remembering whether to take the Messe or Prater exit. I correctly chose the latter and within minutes I was checked in and making my way to room 103 on the first floor.

A new (and scary) ride at the fairground: I watched but never bought a ticket...

As far as I can tell, based on three previous stays at Motel One Messe Prater, all the rooms are identical and I always have a few niggly problems. When I first stayed here in June last year – arguably my best ever business trip thanks to a bike, good weather and a generally pleasant vibe – I had great difficulty finding the switch to the bedside lamps, which were poised over the pillows of the bed. At one stage, I considered dismantling the lights, but in the end I resorted to calling the girl on reception, who came to my room and pointed out the switches. I felt extremely stupid. I mean, I could have simply pulled the keycard from the socket by the door and plunged the room into total darkness, but that would have meant losing control and I don't like losing control at the best of times. I panic sometimes when taking off a jumper and it gets stuck with me still inside it, so being in a dark room without the means to turn on the bedside lamp was out of the question.

I know how he feels...

On my second visit last December, I found the desk was too far away from the power sockets on the other side of the room and had to re-arrange the furniture accordingly. This must have happened on my first visit too, but I can't remember. It's certainly happened this time round, on my third visit, as I've just re-arranged things to make it possible to use my lap top on the desk. In fact, talking of my third visit, this visit,  I was a little miffed that the girl on the front desk didn't provide me with the username and password for the WiFi. There are no phones in the rooms, so you have to call the hotel's main number to reach the reception desk using your mobile phone (the general assumption is that everybody has a mobile phone these days). Or, of course, go downstairs and ask for the username and password in person, which is what I did. Mildly inconvenient? Of course it was. Finally, my favourite part of the Motel One experience – the tropical fish screensaver on the wall-mounted television – wasn't quite right. The picture and the captivating music, which is playing as I write this, keeps breaking up, turning what was a pleasant dream, the whole basis of my love for this particular Motel One, into a kind of mild nightmare; it's as if the horrors of life are always there, in the shadows, hiding under the surface, like a menacing shark below thin ice, the thin membrane of happiness we're all led to believe is the mainstay of our short lives when, in reality, it's little more than false hopes masquerading as happy permanence in an otherwise uncertain world. But dreams are there to be broken, just like the rules, and for that reason, never try to recreate past happiness and never try to meet your heroes because all that happens is you break through the ice and see everything for what it is – and it's not good. The key to survival is to keep dreaming.

Another new attraction at the fairground...

I took a walk through the fairground, checking out a scary new ride and saying no, never, not in a million years. I like walking through fairgrounds, but I'm not keen on the rides, apart from the tame ones, like the Dodgems. I made my way to L'Osteria – my fourth visit in under a year, possibly even my fifth as I might have come here for lunch and dinner on a previous trip, I can't remember. This is, however, my second visit in one day, having already had lunch at L'Osteria in Plus City, Leonding, where I had a wonderful (and very large) pizza. I didn't fancy another huge pizza so I opted for mushroom risotto, a Crostino and two small bottles of still mineral water. Now I must get the check, pay up and head back through the fairground, past all the colourful but scary rides to Motel One and hopefully a good night's sleep.

When I got back I switched on the television and tried to watch a movie featuring Sylvester Stallone, Sharon Stone and James Woods, not sure what it was called, but it was pretty good, even dubbed over in German. But I got bored, switched it off and went to sleep.

The starkness of a Motel One corridor...

And now it's Friday morning. I fly back today at 1540hrs. I need to check out of here at noon and then make my way to the airport and my flight home to the UK.

Outside of my hotel room the sun is shining and I can hear the sound of children playing in a nearby school playground. That strange, haunting music and the tropical fish are just over my left shoulder and I'm sitting at the desk, which I moved from it's original position to the wall next to the bed. I can also hear distant screams from the fairground.

Time to sign off and get on with the business of getting home.

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...

I have nothing but praise for Motel One.

From the moment I arrived at the front desk, albeit with half a dozen people ahead of me, including a man who had been on my flight from London Gatwick and who I thought looked a bit like Richard Roundtree, until I Googled the Shaft megastar and realised that my fellow traveller looked nothing like him. So who did he resemble? A Bond villain? Not sure, so let's just leave it there.

The view from my hotel room window...

Motel One. It's fantastic. No complaints whatsoever apart from stuff that was entirely my fault. Okay, I'll explain: it was late, almost 11pm when I was finally given my keycard and found myself in the lift en route to my room on the third floor. I reached the room (it's one where you put your keycard in a slot in the wall as you enter and the lights come on (and go off when you take it out). Not a problem. Now, here's the best bit: there's a flatscreen television on the wall and I could hear this weird ambient music coming out of somewhere. On the screen are fish. Tropical fish. They looked so real I thought I had a fish tank in the room. I'm told that keeping tropical fish is bad luck. Fortunately, I don't keep tropical fish, not in my underpants or in a tank. I just don't believe in keeping animals captive, not that I admonish those who do keep tropical fish. I simply hope that they're not visited by any bad luck, that's all.

I hired this bike and rode to the convention centre, cheaper than a taxi!

So, tropical fish. Well, they're not real, just CGI of some sort and combined with the ambient music it's, well, amazing. I was tired, I was emotional too, seriously emotional, and the fish calmed things down for me. I sat on the edge of the bed and indulged the ambient music and the fish swimming about – as they're doing right this minute, behind me, unless they're only there when I turn around, who knows? No, they're there alright and I love them. Last night, when I finally got to sleep – alright, I'll explain in a minute – I thought I'd keep the fish 'alive' so to speak. I didn't want to turn off the television, but in the end the bright, halogen glow kept me awake so I reached for the remote and the fish (and the ambient music) were gone.

And here I am somewhere in Vienna with the bike...

But anyway, my 'issue' was nothing to do with the fish, it was to do with two spotlights over the bed, beaming down on the pillows where I desperately wanted to rest my weary head. Except that I couldn't. Try as I might to find the switch to turn the two spotlights off, I couldn't. The only way to do it, I thought, was to pull the keycard out of the wall socket and plunge the room into powerless darkness. But that simply wouldn't do because it meant that should I wish to turn on the light in the dead of night, I'd have to get up, fumble around in the darkness looking for the keycard and then fumble further to find the slot in the wall. So I started to get annoyed and my annoyance turned to mild anger, which was aggravated by the fact that Motel One hotel rooms don't have phones – the management must assume that everybody has a mobile these days and, of course, most people do. So I searched high and low for some way of turning off these two lights and even considered dismantling them or taking out the bulbs using a towel from the bathroom, I was that desperate, but no, not a good idea. I was despairing and in the end resorted to calling the front desk. "Silly question, but how do I turn off the spotlights beaming on to my pillows?" I managed to conceal my frustration, but despite the fact that the woman told me there was a black button underneath the light, I still couldn't find it. "I'll come up," she said, so I felt it was important to put on some trousers. Within what seemed like a few seconds there was a knock on the door and I was fully dressed.

She pointed to the switches and I rather sheepishly switched them off, feeling, it must be said, a little foolish. I thanked her, bade her farewell and got a decent night's sleep, without the ambient music or the fish, sadly.

Vienna's famous fairground is next to Motel One so I rode round taking pix

There was more good news on the Motel One front: the bathroom! It was amazing. The shower was one of those rain shower affairs and there was no messing around trying to get the thing to work properly – it worked immediately and I was treated to a wonderful, exhilarating shower. It was like standing under a waterfall and I could have stayed there all day, but I had to go to the convention centre on the other side of the Danube so I dried and dressed and went down for breakfast and it was perfect: muesli, fresh fruit, a vanilla yoghurt and a custard Danish, not forgetting a cup of Darjeeling. It all takes place close to the front desk and there's a proper breakfast area too or I could have sat in the bar area on a trendy seat, but give me a proper table any time.

I know how he feels...

Motel One is roughly a 35-40-minute walk to the convention centre, where I was headed. It's an interesting walk that took me across the Danube on what can only be described as a reconnaissance mission. I returned around 1000hrs and discovered that the hotel rented out bikes. Perfect! So I hired one, for 12 Euros, and rode off. Later, when my work was done I rode back to the hotel, took an early evening shower (I wouldn't normally but it was hot and I had a rain shower in the room) and then I headed out on the bike again, turning left out of the hotel, passing the famous fairground and riding the length of Ausstellungs and then Prater Strasse where, after riding around on the other side of the Donaukanal, which filters in to the Danube, I rode back on to Prater Strasse and had dinner at Café Ansari (red lentil soup plus roasted chicken, two beers, a mineral water and a cappuccino).

It was dark when I unpadlocked the bike I had left across the street and retraced my route back to the hotel, lingering awhile at the fairground, watching people on scary-looking rides. I've never been one for fairgrounds.

I wasn't planning on spending any money at the fairground...

But what a great bike ride! And what freedom a bike offers! I love cycling and it's made all the better in a country that cares for its cyclists, not like in the UK where a cycle lane is a simple line drawing of a bike in the road – an afterthought, nothing more. Here in Vienna there are proper cycle lanes that are safe and not part of the road. I didn't want to hand the bike back. I could have cycled all night, but that would have been foolish. I'll probably take one out tomorrow and Wednesday and possibly even Thursday if there's time as it beats a taxi hands down.

What with ambient music, the tropical fish display – which I'm reliably informed is changed during the winter months to a roaring fire (keep the fish all year round, that's my view) – Motel One is arguably one of the best hotels I've experienced, and it's got a friendly vibe too. And what's more, they're everywhere, even in the UK. In fact, there's quite a few of them in the UK and they can also be found in France, Belgium and Germany. I cannot recommend Motel One highly enough if they're all of this high standard.

I regularly review the hotels I stay in on Trip Advisor. For more, click here.

A Viennese whirl...

Tea and a Bakewell tart, Costa Coffee, South Terminal...

The first problem was getting confirmation. I needed confirmation before I could open up the lap top and book my flight and hotel. A week prior to the trip – and only one day after returning from Vienna – I sat at home and I knew that in seven days I would be back in Austria. Or would I be? Biting the bullet and booking the trip would have been a mistake. What if the meeting was cancelled? So I left it and the lack of any real confirmation continued. As the uncertainty mounted, the flights got more expensive.

I wanted to fly BA, like last time, but as time moved on, the likelihood of those Island Bakery Lemon Melts and a small bottle of red wine – for no extra money – and not forgetting the dulcet tones of the Biggles-like BA pilot, were fading fast. There was, I knew, just one option: easyJet.

I nipped in here to buy a Skipper's Tablecloth

And sure enough, when the meeting was finally fixed and set in stone, the BA flight was far too expensive. so I was left with no other choice than easyJet. Look, I'm not anti-easyJet, it's just that they're not as good as BA. Full stop. But I found myself online, booking my flight and my hotel and quietly regretting the whole thing.

On the train towards Vienna Hbf from Vienna Airport...

It was going to be a rushed trip. Flying out on Sunday evening at 1735hrs, getting into Vienna at 2050 and then jumping on a train to a place called Linz. Last week, somebody in my hotel (the Austria Trend Europa in Vienna) said it was an hour, but the reality was one hour and 52 minutes and that wasn't including the train from the airport to Wien Hbf. But hey, if the flight had been on time, there might not have been a problem. But the flight wasn't on time. It was late. I arrived in Vienna later than scheduled and it had a knock-on effect. I took the train to Wien Hbf, that was fine, but the train to Linz wasn't until 2255hrs. Time for an ice-cold fish burger! I was starving and you might be wondering why. I'll tell you. Once airborne, the easyJet cabin crew calmly announced that they would not be accepting credit or debit cards and were unable to provide receipts. Well, sod that, I thought. I was starving – and while I had a tenner in my wallet, I wanted to use my credit card, because that's what I use when I'm on business and the ten pound note was for my own private use. Furthermore, I didn't want to give those capitalist scum my money, not after being so inconvenienced. So I sat there. I couldn't even stare out of the window because, by the time we'd reached 'our cruising altitude', it was dark. I didn't even read as there was no in-flight magazine for my seat, and even if there had been, I wouldn't have read it. It wouldn't have been anywhere near as good as BA's High Life and yes, I was yearning for John Simpson's monthly column.

Crap wine and the remains of a cold fishburger

When the plane eventually landed, I found a Spar store – another brand, like Lipton's, that you no longer see in the UK (another sign of our decline as a nation) – and bought a cheese and ham sandwich for the train ride to Vienna Hbf, but I was still hungry when I got there, and now I was tired too and the thought of two hours on a train to Linz made me seek solace in a Nordsee fish burger. It looked great in the photograph over the counter so I bought one and a bottle of cheap 'rot' wine (plus a plastic mug). I took the food and drink to a table and it was there, having taken a large bite out of the burger, that I discovered the awful truth: it was stone cold. With an unpleasant expression on my face as if I'd been sucking a Seven Seas Cod Liver Oil lolly, I approached the counter. "This is stone cold, can you heat it up?" The woman looked at me as if I'd stolen her last Rolo. "No, sorry, we don't have any ovens," she said. No ovens? You mean everything is sold stone cold? Well, I didn't ask that question, I simply skulked back to my table and finished the burger, having realised that the Austrians DO eat their fish burgers cold. How do I know? Because as I sat there, pulling a face with every bite, I watched as other people bought the same fish burger, although I did wonder whether they were planning on taking their burgers home to a microwave oven.

And then there was the train journey to Linz. Not one hour, but two, in a train that might well have been in the movie The Great Escape. It was mainly a sleeper train and oh how I would have loved a cabin to myself and a ticket all the way to Bregenz on the border with Switzerland, the train's ultimate destination. But I was alighting at Linz, the first big stop, and sitting in one of the two compartment carriages, like something out of a Harry Potter movie. I shared a compartment with two elderly people, a man and a woman, who got off a couple of stops along the line. Then there was a beefy-looking bloke in a tight tee-shirt, and a fat guy with smelly feet who later stretched out, taken off his shoes and tried to get some shut-eye. He, like me, was travelling to Linz and eventually it was just the two of us in the compartment: him snoring and me sitting there playing with my watch, unable to take in the view outside because it was so dark.

A cold fish burger? No ovens to heat it up? Get out of here!

So let's have a recap. First, no food on the delayed easyJet flight. Then a cold fish burger, courtesy of Nordsee – I won't be going back there in a hurry – and now something else to add to the party. I found my way to the taxi rank, told the driver my destination – the Austria Trend Schillerpark – and what did he say? "That's just five minutes away, you can walk!" So off I went, my suitcase rolling noisily behind me. It was almost 0100hrs when I reached the hotel and the fact that I found the hotel was only thanks to the fat guy from the train who I caught up with while walking. He pointed me in the right direction and soon I was in a lift, heading towards room 306 and a few hours of sleep.

Room 306 of the Austria Trend Schillerpark

The following day I had a hearty breakfast of cereal, a croissant, scrambled egg with two sausages, fresh fruit and a small pot of tea. Later on, after my meeting was over, I made the same journey but in reverse. I took a train from Linz to Vienna Hbf and then a train to the airport where I checked in and then sat in the restaurant next to the gate awaiting my flight. I had around two hours to kill and fortunately time flew by as I'd met Mark – on holiday alone in Vienna – and we passed the time of day (or night in this case) chatting about motorcycles and travelling before it was time for me to stand in the queue, go through security at the gate and then wait to board the plane. It was delayed again, this time for longer than before due to a mechanical issue with the landing gear, and while we were scheduled to depart at 2130hrs, it was nearer 2230hrs when we were finally airborne.

The flight was pleasant enough. The cabin crew accepted credit cards so I enjoyed tea, cookies and some fizzy lemon drink in a can, although somehow I managed to get chocolate over my suit trousers – odd when you consider that the cookies were on the tray and my lap was underneath tray. We landed at Gatwick at past 2300hrs and after queuing for the electronic passport control, my taxi driver failed to show. He eventually arrived having gone to the wrong terminal and soon I was on the last leg of my awful journey. By the time I got to bed it was 0130hrs. Needless to say I went in to work later the following day.

Coming home...

Vienna airport. It's one of those places where you don't go through 'security' until you reach the gate. Not ideal in my book as, while you will need a boarding pass and a passport to get this far (I'm at the gate now) there's no stopping anybody from getting this far with a bag of guns and a stash of bombs. Still, if all goes well it won't be long before the cabin crew is handing out those Island Bakery Lemon Melts biscuits with the white chocolate icing – not that I'll be hungry. Right this minute I'm tucking into a chicken with blue cheese panini (EUR6.60) with a little dish of ketchup that I simply don't need. I'm enjoying a beer too, make that two.

The waitress acts efficient, but the service is slow, not that it's her fault, the problem might be further up the line, like in the kitchen. To add insult to injury, a fly has arrived and he's sniffing round my panini. I bet he hasn't got a boarding pass or a passport.

From noon today I was a free man. Free to walk around the city. I headed for the Danube, only to discover that it wasn't blue, but roughly the same colour as the Thames. Who can you trust these days, eh?

I was on my feet for over an hour and somehow found myself on Taborstrasse, a road that deteriorated the further I walked along it; one minute all was fine, but soon there was graffiti, the odd beggar, odd shops – like one selling dentists' chairs – and cheap-looking pizza joints. Eventually it fell apart and was a jangling mess of tram lines so I turned back and walked towards the river, crossed it and found a quiet Italian restaurant, Cavalieri, where I enjoyed a glass of Chianti, a small bowl of pasta and a cappuccino.

Vienna's famous Ferris wheel

There was still time, I figured, to do something 'touristy' so I headed off towards the big Ferris wheel, as featured in the film of Graham Green's The Third Man. It seemed to be very slow so I didn't take a ride and simply stood there watching the roller coasters and wishing I had three Euros in cash to have a go on the Dodgems, my favourite fairground attraction. In the end I decided to head back to my hotel, pick up my bag and then head for the airport and my flight to London Gatwick.

And now here I am, about ten minutes or so away from finally going through security. I'm sitting in Café Bistro Johann Strauss, it sounds more glamorous than it is; the reality is a place selling paninis, Berner Würstel, Gebackenes Schnitzel, cheeseburgers and something called a Vegetarian Wok. Reasonably priced and Suzanne Vega is playing as I write this, or rather a CD of her song My Name is Luka ('I live on the second floor') is playing. It's one of those songs that's always good whenever I hear it, there are many songs like this, tinged as they are with a little sadness, but good nonetheless.

The 1840 Vienna to Seoul is 'now boarding' and I don't envy those travelling on that plane, the very thought makes me want to go to bed. Fortunately my flight is around two hours so I'm not complaining and I can't wait for those Island Bakery Lemon Melts and a cup of tea. There's another flight, the 1935 to Taipei, and the 1850 to Doha (I've been there), a flight to Sofia (in Bulgaria) and, of course, my flight to London Gatwick, which is not a million miles from where I live. There's a huge queue of people ready to board the Taipei flight.

I'd better get myself through security. See you on the other side, as they say.

The Austria Trend Europa Hotel – it's very good
I must give the thumbs up to the Austria Trend Europa hotel. It was very good, centrally located – I mean really centrally located – right next door (almost) to the Stephansplatz underground station, and a couple of stops from the airport express station, not to mention the shops (there's loads of good shops here) and not a million miles from anywhere if I'm honest.

Room 1411 on the fourth floor... very good

The room was good, everything worked, there was free WiFi, a decent television (that I didn't watch) a pleasant bathroom, coat hangers that behaved themselves and, best of all, a very decent breakfast offering, not forgetting an 'executive' lounge that I never used.

If you're coming to Vienna, it's a sure bet and so easy to reach from the airport: simply take the airport express train – the CAT – (16 minutes) to the centre of town then transfer to the underground, keep an eye out for Stephansplatz and it's a very short walk from there.

And if you're the sort of person that likes shopping, then this hotel is ideally placed for you, bang in the middle of all the shops you'll ever need. And that means all the big brand names too, like Zara and Mango and, well, you get the picture.

I'm now through security and it's 1900hrs, but there's no sign of the plane. Apparently it'll be slightly delayed, according to the man who checked me in earlier, so, like everybody else, I'm amusing myself with technology. Most people are playing with their iphones or tablets, but me and one other person (as far as I can see) have our laptops out – both Macs. Some people are reading books, others are distracted by babies and some are just checking through their bags.

Room 1411, Austria Trend Europa, Vienna

There's a coffee machine branded 'cafe + co' and a vending machine selling packaged sandwiches and chocolate bars, but I'm hanging on for those Island Bakery Lemon Melts and a nice cup of tea.

Biscuit of the Week!
The award for best biscuit of the week goes to the Island Bakery's Lemon Melts. Fantastic! A lemon biscuit dipped in rich white chocolate – to die for!

For further information, click here now!

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.