Low life | 3 January 2019

The Airbnb accommodation at Paddington, chez Mohammed, was a fourth-floor room measuring about nine feet by five. As well as having a single bed, this small space was extraordinarily well equipped, with a wardrobe, huge fridge, sink, draining board, ironing board, microwave oven, kettle, two electric hobs, a set of saucepans and enough cutlery and crockery for a select dinner party, and a television set. The room’s heat, which came from an unidentifiable source, was tropical. The mattress had a couple of broken springs and was horribly filthy, but the sheet covering it smelt freshly laundered and for just £22 a night I was well pleased. When I switched on the television to see whether it worked, it showed a photograph of me wearing a dinner jacket and bow tie sitting next to Baroness Trumpington at a Cigar Smoker of the Year awards dinner. Apparently, one of us had recently died and BBC news was showing the photograph to illustrate a jauntily affectionate obituary.