On the good side, the hotel did, eventually, find my laundry. (Which came back -- clean -- five days after my first attempt to give it to them.)
Many, many letters like this one awaited me when I got on line...
Mr. Gaiman,
Were you being subtle or did you not notice that the picture of James Blunt shown at the link is actually a photo of you? Although the two of you look a bit alike, that picture is exactly the same as one of you that pops up when you refresh the page on your journal. The wisps of hair are the same, the highlights on the leather are the same, etc. I guess you realized, and I'm just stating the obvious, but I wanted to be sure.Yup. I'm pretty good at spotting pictures of me, so I knew it was me all along. I thought it was a bit funny that, somewhere out in the world, a newspaper picture editor had picked up a picture of me and put it into his newspaper as a photo of James Blunt, who isn't me. I sort of figured that I could simply put up the message I received and the link to the picture, and people would go "Ah, a James Blunt article run with a picture of Neil instead of James Blunt. How mildly amusing."
Instead, people wrote helpfully to let me know that it was a picture of me. Which means, I think, I should probably have included an explanation.
....
After a night's sleep, I feel sunny and bright and no longer desire to burn down the hotel and dance in the ashes. It's WOLVES IN THE WALLS today! And how could anyone feel grumpy on a day like that?
Here's a picture of me a couple of days ago, in front of the very small merchandise area.
Yes, I know I need a haircut.