PART 2 : The Big Sneak Post Incognito Day

We are now on the second floor and find a secret room which houses a lift shaft and explore. Two old-fashioned suitcases sit precariously on top of hotel detritus. 

Tiara inquisitive and hungry moves quickly to satisfy her curiosity. 

It is awkward, heavy and difficult to manoeuvre. Time to find out is gone in a flash, we realise the lift mechanism is whirring and turning, somebody is on their way to discover our dastardly 'sneaky' deeds. 

We retreat and hurry off down the corridor and hoping we have not been sussed. There is a very large table and look busy searching through hundreds of wedding leaflets for the 'right' information. My 'business' disguise takes a back seat for a moment as I become a potential bride or groom and get swept away down an imaginary aisle. It becomes difficult to decide just which 'Happy' day I wish to purchase, what package will be suitable? The Monte Carlo Spider or the Rolls, Dark Chocolate Ganache or Steam Vanilla sponge Pudding?

A door clatters shut and behind us are footsteps.

I think it to obvious to turn around and look at who exactly it is, instead questions fire through my brain.  
"Are they hotel guests, a worker, chamber maid giant rabbit or miniature policeman? I feel myself praying as Tiara, true to form and disguise, calmly bursts into business jargon and I know we are safe because we are professional women on a mission to get to our meeting, via wedding package number 3, where the fax machine and Mr A. Sugar will be waiting.

Ornate large mirrors hang everywhere and I'm curious. 
"Are we being observed somehow from behind where the men sit in secret rooms, smoking and tired knowing we are guilty and waiting for us to crack under cross examination? 
I confront the potential gaze and think of good cops and bad cops.


In the corner of a darkened corridor a natural light beam, streams through a large peep hole in a locked door and Tiara wants to squeeze through like Alice.

We find our way back into the booty box case lift shaft. I look out for danger as Tiarra rummages. 

She extracts from inside a secret frame and a triumvirate of excitement and fear fill the space.

It no longer wishes to be a secret hidden away in a secret room, in a secret suitcase. It has never been handled before by this species and it feels uneasy under these manicured red fingertips and realises that it's closed existence is about to change and that a new world is waiting.

The Great Escape plan is being formulated, freedom will prevail and disguises are needed for this new being. It is too big to be hidden under our clothes. We find a wedding brochure to cover its naked back and head towards the revolving doors 
and pray...

(13m26s)

Is there anyone following us?

No, I  think it's okay.

That's amazing.

It's Masonic

How creepy is that.

They probably have meetings, secret meetings

and they have to hide it away.

We are going to need a drink.

I'm not sure I think so.

It's to do with....Men

Are we going to get into trouble?

No nobody saw us.

My microphone has slipped further even further down into my clothing and speech is recorded in snippets. We make our way to the safety of the car and again hide the acquisition in an enclosed space, protecting us from its hidden secret supposed power.
Moments pass and we discuss cult like behaviours explored in cinema and folk lore Morris men with sticks and bells who dance. I think of David Bowies's crotch and the surreal world of May poles and Flamenco.

We make our way back into the warmth of the hotel, Tiara holds the empty picture frame under her arm and as we enter bravely we whisper.. the dictaphone can no longer hear these hushed conversations but is able to pick up the sounds of sneaking; slamming doors, breathing, giggling, footsteps, voices, whispers and fear.

We are back to the room of Secrets to replace the picture powerless frame and are disturbed yet again by the elevator, steel wires whirring and pulling and Tiara is unable to finish the job. I hear the frame slide to the floor and see it in my minds eye, lying and exposed in the middle of the walkway. A walkway between elevator and exit door, a rhizome channel that connects the automaton workers who reside in the blank colourless dirty reality with this same wallpaper covered blank artificial colourless reality. 

Alarm bells ring silently in my head and I realise that they now have indisputable proof, proof that somebody somewhere has been sneaking.

That the outsiders must be found, hidden and sacrificed in one the hundreds of secret rooms, both above and below ground that lie behind the ornate mirrors.

Our hurried steps falter and slow as we look over our shoulders and see a large man appearing from the secret room. We swear and whisper and know that our time is up. We pretend that all is well and that we have time to make the meeting in the conference room. He is behind us and stealthily follows, we make it to the lift and head to the ground floor. As we reach the reception area he to arrives and we expect the worst. Our time is up and we will be arrested. Flight or fight responses express themselves in jerky body movements and unfinished sentences. We are unsure which way to turn so we just stand there and await the in inevitable. As he arrives at the desk he states clearly;

" There is a problem with my key, it won't open my door!"

Physical jerks and the air of uncertainty is replaced with sighs and relief, we head to the bar to recover from the shock and the pleasure of realising that it had been a case of mistaken identity on our part, not theirs.
How could that be? This place has a sense of humour and is playing with us. How could that man NOT have come out of the room in search for the picture frame culprits. Could he really have a room right next to the lift shaft? 
Luck is on our side today, no arrests and no sacrifices, just yet!

We immediately head back to secure our yet unexposed existence within these corridors by replacing and hiding the proof that we have been bad. The job is executed with precision and ease because we are getting good at this. It was a very close call and we still need time to recover so find sanctuary where we can rest and plan our next sneaky adventure. We are becoming braver and starting to push the limits of our exploration into visiting the lower ground floor where we REALLY should not be. 

Tiara searches through her tool kit and finds the notebook with prepared, "don't get kicked out, made up in advance lies," list and we select the best sentences.

1. I'm looking for the lounge, bar, toilets?

2. I've lost my room.

3. What floor am I on?

Number three is the best option as we can arrive 'accidentally' in the lift and look lost when we are approached. It is a great plan and will work if put to the test, there is an air of confidence around us as we head towards the ...................................................

Until that is we see the staring glass cleaning woman's husband with the waving hand staring and walking past at us in the corridor. 

The hubby man who knows, that we know, that he knows us .....

Tiara struggles with elevator door, it seems to be stuck and won't let us enter, the doors rattles


We panic a little! 


Is the Duke helping us or hindering us, does this place want us to stay or go?


We cannot escape, the lift door is.....!
Tiara catches him not waving this time but pointing and talking in hushed tones to another.
We have been sussed!

We turn away from the jammed door and forget the elevator and the

  "What floor is this?" 

line and scarper down the corridor toward freedom and the great outdoors.

and we do not look back..........

(55m03s)