
It struck me when I took my girlfriend on a trip to Kingston. Sound romantic? You may be imagining a plush hotel in Kingston, Jamaica. Imagine a Travelodge in Kingston upon Thames instead.
So there we were, and it was my fault. As I sat on the bed, eating a brioche in the 6am dark of a very rainy Sunday (my girlfriend had wisely gone straight back to sleep after the hideously early alarm), I thought about out what was to blame.