The faxes continue for some time. I start tipping the bellboy heavily on each visit, as I am accused, variously, of being a spy, a hitman, a convict and a ghost. By the time the last one's in, my floor is covered with more than fifty faxes.

I read the small print in my hotel manual underneath 'Fax Service'. They charge $2 for each incoming fax.

I think about going out to get some food, but realise that would mean walking through reception.

I stay in, and open my variety pack of cornflakes.

CHAMPAGNE

Two days later, I am still in LA, thrilled that my work is done for the day and the city is all mine.

I am alone in this vast and glorious place. My foot is loose. I'm free of fancies.

I can do anything I like!

I could empty the mini-bar! I think, and I open it, wildly, and take out a bottle of champagne. I could drink it dry!

I study the price list and put the champagne back.

Or I could go out! I think. Head for a museum! Or the shops! I could swagger about in LA shops, trying on inappropriate jeans or buying videogames!

I feel the guilty pleasure of the man on a business trip in an exciting city, with time to kill. A man staring out at whole hours free of responsibility. Is there anything better than having nothing to do?

Of course, when my wife phones up, I'll have to complain about how boring it all is, how the room's too small and the bed's too lumpy, how busy I am, how busy I'll be, how much she'd hate it if she was here. But that is to protect her. To make sure she thinks she's not missing out.

She is, though.

But on what?

I grab a copy of a listings magazine the hotel has put in my room.

Mexican jazz! I think. There's a Mexican jazz gig in town tonight! I could go and watch Mexican jazz!

I start to wonder if I've got time to grow a moustache. I decide I haven't, and that even with nothing to do Mexican jazz might be a step too far, and so I turn the page.

I could go to Universal Studios! I think. Or to the Magic Castle! I could eat at In-N-Out, or maybe I could visit a vineyard and show off that I'm able to tell the difference between red and white wine!

The thought of wine makes me thirsty and I open the minibar again. I take out a tiny bottle of wine. I can tell just by looking at it it's white.