There might as well have been a ladder to get me to my room. Badly signposted, no lighting on the main stairs, more stairs to go up, to go down, to go up again. Got to the end of a musty, dated ‘antique cream’ coloured corridor to find the rooms ended in 31. I was in 32. I realised there was yet another door (that looked like a cupboard door) - I went through that, expecting to find some kind of edible delight with ‘eat me’ written on it, as the walls and ceiling performed a masterpiece of collapsing perspective.
The room was basic. No bedside lamps, a rotting window; a barely warm radiator. An awkwardly long ‘bathroom’ with an anti-tardis shower; I have seen babies dribble with more pressure. Dated wired telephones (telephones???) that had been unplugged by previous guests (who might no longer be with us) due to their audible affliction to ‘ping’.
Single use plastic bathroom cups completed the utopian experience.
Upon checkout, I was greeted with the ‘How was your stay?’ gambit, just to finish me off. Wow, that was a unique experience. I was not inclined to say “ Well….” - this chain is not, and will not do anything to make this a better place to stay. The incredible edifice they have acquired has a huge appetite for improvement to achieve a decent standard, but profit outranks any call to arms.