London at last.

Landing in Heathrow was a very smooth experience. As one of the first planes to arrive as the curfew lifted, it was a long and solitary walk to the immigration counters. With virtually no queue, I stepped through, waited a few minutes for my luggage on the conveyor belt, then searched for the BA Arrivals lounge to freshen up.

Still feeling a little seedy, I was hoping that the lounge would help make me feel better, as well as pass away some of the time given that I didn’t have an early check-in for the hotel. 10 minutes later, after walking the length and breadth of Heathrow airport, I finally arrived at the Lounge and booked myself into the Molton Brown Spa there.

The spa has a variety of complimentary treatments available, such as a massage or facial scrubs, and you are provided with an assortment of toiletries upon arrival. Needing to feel more awake, the only thing I wanted was to have a shower.

Without going into any of the gory details, the shower facilities there are rather interesting, with multiple water nozzles to get an all over body wash. What’s more interesting is that most of the nozzles are in a vertical strip facing you as you reach for the water switch.

Handy Travellers Tip for the Day: When using the Molton Brown showers, do not turn the water on standing in front of the nozzles. Unless you want a hot stream of water blasting at your nether regions.

Feeling much better, I made my way to the refreshments area for a drink. There was a nice selection of breakfast choices available, including a full traditional English breakfast (sausages, eggs, bacon, mushrooms, etc.) and a variety of juices and pastries. Right now, my stomach had this uneasy equilibrium where the food neither wanted to go up or down, and tempting as the choices looked, I thought best not to disturb this delicate balance.

Grabbing an orange and grapefruit juice, I headed to a computer terminal to catch up on news and emails for an hour. Feeling very sleepy, I made the call to head to the hotel on the off chance that my room was ready.

Going to the other end of the terminal, I decided on catching the Heathrow Express to London. This was a pricey 14.50 GPB, but still a much cheaper option than catching a taxi from Heathrow.

Cost aside, this was a painless option with a clean, modern train (though still not as cool as Hong Kong).

Pulling into Paddington Station about 20 minutes later, I transferred to a London cab and found to my pleasant surprise, that the hotel was less than 5 minutes away.

Through the recommendations on Trip Adviser, I had booked myself in the London Guards Hotel, a charming old hotel a stone’s throw from Hyde Park.

It was obviously in a nice part of London, given all the fancy cars (a few Porsches, a couple of Lotuses, a dozen Mercedes and BMWs…), and looked just like how I’d imagine London to be. Row upon row of white terrace houses.

Unfortunately, my room was not to be available for another 3 hours, so I made myself comfortable in the reception area, and promptly fell in and out of sleep. At around noon, I was woken up, and advised that my room was ready.

Whilst waiting for the lift, in what was one of those Being John Malkovich moments, my Polish porter informed me my room was on the second and a half floor. Still half-asleep and not quite comprehending, I blinked at him, wondering if we had to do an emergency stop between levels two and three and pry the doors open with a crowbar.

“We take the lift to third floor, then go up the stairs then down the stairs,” he added, helpfully. “I take staff lift, and meet at your room”. And with that, I was sent up to the third floor in a tiny lift, alone.

Arriving on the third floor, I was still completely lost as to where I was to go – it was a narrow corridor full of doors. Luckily, one of the maids spotted me and directed me to a door at the end, which led to a set of stairs. I swear that I’ve had this experience before in San Jose, California at the Winchester House.

Oliver Winchester, the inventor of “the gun that won the west”, died a very rich man. His widow Sarah Winchester though, was a very superstitious woman who was informed that the ghosts of all those ever slain by a Winchester Rifle would find and haunt her until they were avenged, with her death. Her only means of surviving this fate was to forever keep building her mansion, continually adding new rooms so that the restless spirits would never find her – if she stopped building, her death would come swiftly.

For 38 years, she turned a stately mansion into a sprawling mass of rooms and corridors, stairways that lead to nowhere, a labyrinth to confuse and torment. 24 hours a day, 365 days a year for 38 years, artisans and builders worked on the construction. According to legend, the day she finally relented, and gave the workers a day off, was the day she was later found dead in her room.

And her architect must have been employed to work at the London Guards Hotel straight afterwards.

Half-tempted to roll a ball of string from reception so I could find my way out again, like Perseus hunting the Minotaur, I finally made it to my room. To my pleasant surprise, I found it to be the largest hotel room I’ve seen for a very long time.

Obviously meant for three people with a double bed and a single, all this space was mine and mine alone. For the price, in a nice area in Central London, this was an absolute bargain.

The facilities were nothing spectacular – comfortable, clean and quiet – but I crashed on the bed anyway and slept soundly until 5am the next morning. Feeling much better, I was ready to start my holiday at last!