Ludbrooke

His Travels - I

He books into a half-a-star hotel
In a non-cathedral city. Her mobile is off.
Whose mobile? He goes to their once-favourite
Restaurant where he half-expected to dine her.
She does not show up. And this place only serves wine
By the bottle. So, never mind, he'll take 
What he doesn't manage back to his hotel room
-Except he won't, the waitress has binned the cork
And pours constant fill-ups, soon he's drunk the lot.
The evening, like many others, away or home,
Is a stuporous failure, it founders in a mire
Of unworthy effort. But can he say, Serve me right?
No, he can't. (Whose mobile? His latest-before-last's.)

His Travels-II

When he checks out, the man who takes his laundry
Is at Reception sorting out bills and receipts.
He is man of cultural refinement
Who can summon up a disarming turn of phrase:
"I see we're still washing your Oxfam shirt, sir.
It has seen better days-few of them with you."
It occurs to Ludbrooke that if, like any other
Civilised man, he keeps a graded list
Of his larger garments (stopping short of what 
The hotel calls "private items") and changes one when
It falls below C+, he should listen
To this man regarding this shirt, which he now wears 
To go home in, having awarded it a B.